I don’t have my notes.” Crap. She’d walked right into that one. One corner of his mouth tilted up. “Can’t remember the overall idea?” “Yes, I can remember.” Wait. She’d just lost her one justification for not staying. “Fine. Do you want to talk here?” Brett hopped down, walked to the island and pulled out a stool. “Have a seat.” As she did, he pulled another one, sat across from her and draped his arms across the granite. “All right, lay it on me.” Deep breath in and out. “First and foremost, uniforms. The ones in storage at the high school look like something the managers have been using to wipe down the football pads.” “Can’t have that, can we?” He winked and started to roll his water bottle between his hands. Little drops of condensation sprinkled the countertop. She watched the water bottle roll. He might as well have been a hypnotist with a swinging pocket watch. Her eyes roamed up to his hands, his wrists. They were thick with tendons, and she doubted she could wrap her hand around one wrist completely.
