Chasing You Back

Chapter 004 - Blueprints and Banter

Joyce Bowen had a rule: never let a client see her sweat. Not the aura-obsessed weirdo with the pink table, not the waterfall lunatic, and definitely not Xander Wyatt. So when she walked into Wyatt Innovations at ten a.m. sharp, her revised gunmetal mock-up loaded on her tablet and a fresh coffee in hand, she was ready to own this meeting. She'd spent the night perfecting the design—gunmetal gray with a metallic sheen that screamed futuristic without veering into disco territory, paired with those LED panels and modular chairs. If Xander wanted bold, he'd get it, and she'd make damn sure he had nothing left to nitpick.

The tenth-floor break room was buzzing when she arrived. A couple of coders in hoodies hunched over laptops at a table, arguing about something called "API latency," while Noah Parker fiddled with the coffee machine, a donut dangling from his mouth. He spotted her and waved, crumbs flying. "Hey, Joyce! You're back for round two?"

"Round two of what? Proving I'm right?" she quipped, setting her bag on the counter. "Where's the boss?"

Noah jerked a thumb toward the hallway. "Corner office, yelling at someone about a server crash. He'll be here. Want a donut? They're fresh—well, fresh-ish."

"Tempting, but I'll stick to coffee," she said, eyeing the machine. It looked like a spaceship dashboard, all buttons and blinking lights. "How do you even work this thing?"

"Easy." Noah punched a sequence, and the machine whirred, dispensing a stream of espresso into a cup. He handed it to her with a grin. "Pro tip: don't press the red button unless you want a foam explosion. Learned that the hard way."

"Noted," Joyce said, taking a sip. It was smooth, rich—way better than her usual bodega brew. "You're a lifesaver, Noah."

"Tell that to Xander when he tries to fire me again," he said, chuckling as he grabbed another donut and shuffled off.

She was still savoring the espresso when Xander strode in, tie slightly askew and phone in hand, mid-text. He glanced up, that smirk flickering to life. "Bowen. You're early again. Starting to think you like me."

"Starting to think you're delusional," she shot back, leaning against the counter. "I'm here for the coffee setup, per your weirdly specific request. Let's see it."

He pocketed the phone and gestured to the machine. "This is it. Our pride and joy. Keeps the team caffeinated and semi-human. What do you think—design-wise?"

Joyce set her cup down and circled the counter, inspecting the setup. The machine sat on a sleek black slab, flanked by a tray of mugs and a jar of sugar packets that looked like it hadn't been refilled since 2023. "It's functional," she said, tapping the counter. "But it's a mess. The mugs are chipped, the sugar's half-spilled, and this—" she pointed to a tangle of cords snaking out the back—"is a safety hazard. You need a proper station."

"A station?" Xander raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "It's a coffee maker, not NASA."

"It's the heart of your break room," she corrected, pulling out her tablet to sketch a quick concept. "Picture this: a built-in shelf with a cable management slot, a matte black finish to match the machine, and a rack for mugs—maybe steel, to tie in with the gunmetal vibe. Clean, bold, organized. Your team deserves better than this chaos."

He watched her sketch, leaning closer than necessary, his shoulder brushing hers. "Huh. Not bad. Throw in a spot for snacks—donuts are non-negotiable."

"Done," she said, adding a shallow tray to the drawing. "Anything else, Mr. Coffee Connoisseur?"

"Yeah," he said, tapping the screen where she'd drawn the mug rack. "Make it modular. Some days we're a tea crowd."

"Tea?" She smirked, glancing up at him. "Didn't peg you for a chamomile guy."

"Green tea, smartass," he said, nudging her elbow. "Keeps me sharp when I'm pulling all-nighters."

Their eyes locked for a beat too long, and Joyce felt that stupid stomach flip again. She cleared her throat, stepping back to break the spell. "Fine. Modular it is. Now, about that gunmetal mock-up you demanded—"

"Right." He straightened, motioning her toward his office. "Let's see if you've redeemed yourself."

Back in the corner office, Joyce projected her revised slides onto the wall. "Gunmetal gray with a metallic sheen—subtle but loud, like you wanted. LED panels still sync with workflow, desks are modular, chairs are sleek. It's your 'tech empire' vibe without turning into a nightclub."

Xander leaned back in his chair, studying the images with a critical eye. "Okay, I'll give you this—the sheen works. Gives it a kick without being over-the-top. And the chairs? Solid. My team'll love those."

She blinked, caught off guard by the lack of pushback. "Wait. No notes? No 'it's not bold enough'?"

"Not this time," he said, smirking. "You're learning, Bowen. I might actually keep you around."

"Gee, thanks," she said, sarcasm dripping. "I'll try not to faint from the praise."

He chuckled, standing to grab a blueprint from a shelf—a detailed layout of the office space. "Since you're on a roll, let's talk specifics. I want the accent wall here—" he pointed to the east side—"and the lounge by the windows, like we agreed."

Joyce peered at the blueprint, then shook her head. "No way. The accent wall's better on the north side—more visibility when you walk in. And the lounge by the windows still bugs me. Desks need that light."

"Desks can handle fluorescent," he argued, tapping the window spot. "Lounge here. It's settled."

"Settled?" She snatched a pen from his desk and circled the north wall. "Accent here. It's the focal point. Lounge can go back there—" she pointed to a corner—"with some ambient lighting to compensate."

He grabbed his own pen, crossing out her circle and redrawing his east wall. "Nope. East. It's closer to the break room—ties the space together."

She glared, scribbling over his mark. "North. It's the first thing clients see."

"East," he said, scribbling back. "Flow matters."

Their pens clashed, leaving a mess of ink streaks across the blueprint. Joyce stepped back, hands on her hips. "You're impossible."

"And you're relentless," he said, tossing the pen down with a grin. "Fine, north wall it is. But the lounge stays by the windows."

"Deal," she said, exhaling sharply. "You're lucky I don't charge extra for putting up with you."

"Putting up with me?" He leaned against the desk, arms crossed. "You're the one turning this into a pen war. Admit it—you're having fun."

"Fun?" She snorted, but the laugh escaped before she could stop it. "You're a headache, Wyatt."

"A headache you keep coming back for," he said, his voice dipping just enough to make her pause. That smirk was back, and it was doing things to her resolve she didn't want to unpack.

She rolled her eyes, packing up her tablet. "Keep dreaming. I'll have the coffee station sketch by tomorrow. Try not to ruin it with more 'bold' ideas."

"No promises," he called as she headed for the door. "See you at ten, Bowen."

Out in the hallway, Joyce caught her breath, shaking her head. Noah poked his head out from a cubicle, donut still in hand. "How's the boss today?"

"Infuriating," she said, grinning despite herself. "But I'm winning."

"Keep it up," Noah said, saluting with the donut. "You're the first one who's lasted this long without crying."

Joyce laughed, stepping into the elevator. Winning wasn't the word she'd use—not yet. But as the doors slid shut, she couldn't shake the feeling that Xander Wyatt was more than just a challenge. He was a puzzle, and she was starting to enjoy figuring him out. Just a little.