Page 25 of Biker Orc Baby Daddy
He slides a folder across the table. "Poplar Springs Plaza. Final tenant roster. Some tenants are already in there, so treat them with extra kindness. I need you to coordinate move-ins, make sure renovations stay on schedule, and generally be the boring adult who keeps this project from exploding. "
"Flattering."
"It's a compliment. You're good at boring." He grins. "Also, I'm putting you in charge of the welcome event. Something tasteful. Ribbon cutting. Maybe balloons."
"I hate balloons."
"Everyone loves balloons."
"They're unpredictable. They pop."
"Gunther. You're overthinking balloons."
I flip open the folder. Twelve storefronts, all leased. A bakery. A bookstore. A yoga studio that promises "mindful movement for modern bodies." And?—
"Sparkle Beauty?"
"Pop-up vendor gone permanent. Makeup, skincare, that kind of thing." Colum taps the page. "Owner's name is Cecie Newman. Leased here months ago. References check out. She's got a solid customer base from the market circuit.I want to keep her happy."
The name means nothing.
I turn the page, scanning the application. No photo. Just a business plan that's surprisingly thorough for someone who used to sell lipstick out of a folding table.
"When does she move in?"
"Next week. She's got the unit next to the yoga place. Good foot traffic." Colum leans back, lacing his fingers behind his head. "You should meet her. Get a feel for what she needs. Make sure the buildout goes smoothly."
"That's not my job."
"It is now."
I X off the folder. "Why?"
"Because you're good with people."
"I'm really not."
"Fine. You'repatientwith people. And this plaza is my baby. I need someone who won't screw it up." He points at me. "That's you."
"Flattery and coercion. Your management style needs work."
"My management style got you promoted twice."
He's not wrong.
I take the folder.
The plaza restson the edge of Poplar Springs' downtown district, close enough to foot traffic but far enough from the main strip to feel like a hidden gem. Fishborn Financials occupies the first storefront, and I normally park in the back.
Colum bought it two years ago when it was still a half-abandoned strip mall with a failed pizza chain, the occasional pop-up shop, and a shuttered hardware store. Now it's all fresh paint and wide windows, bright awnings and planters that will probably hold flowers once someone remembers to plant them.
I step to the new addition, marble with bronze accents that Colum insisted wouldgive the space gravitas, and walk the perimeter with a clipboard.
Routine. Methodical. Exactly how I like it.
The bakery's already open, windows fogged with warmth. I can smell bread from here.
The bookstore has boxes stacked inside, visible through the glass. Someone's arranged them in neat rows. Alphabetical, probably.
