“These two need to be as far apart from each other as you can get them.”
I glance at the names written there. I was already informed that it may be a problem for them to be at the same table but decided to do it anyway. I mean, any luncheon where the topic is “Introduction to Art Collecting 101” could stand a little extra excitement.
“Duly noted,” I answer.
He drops the cards back on the table and says, “I’m surprised you didn’t call after.”
I swivel in my chair so I’m facing him. “It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”
“But you shouldn’t have to handle that.” His hand reaches for mine, then he’s pulling me into his lap. I glance at the open door, hoping no one catches us like this. I’ve only had this job a couple of weeks, and everyone knows I only got it as a favor to Ryan and nothing more.
“This isn’t helping my credibility here,” I say, even as I snuggle in closer to him.
Ryan wraps an arm around me, anchoring me to him. His finger traces the top edge of my thin tee. “This is killing me right now, just so you know.”
I lean into his hand, and he glances at the empty hallway to make sure we’re still alone down here, but before he gets any ideas of being naughty at work, I say, “I know you’re too busy to come running down here to check on me.” I link my fingers with his to stop his exploration. “Which one called you?”
My money’s on Sara.
“Sara. She’s worried you hate them now.” He lets out a quiet laugh, then his expression changes. Gets serious. “Want to talk about it?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No. I’m not worried about what they think.” I twist around so I can look at him. “But I am worried about what you think.”
Ryan runs a hand through my hair, wrapping the ends around his fist. Holding my face inches from his. “I think you’re wonderful.”
“Well, I think you’re pretty wonderful too.” And for the first time, these words aren’t spoken only to further my cause. For the first time, I mean what I’m saying.
In moments like this I wish things were different. That this was real life and that my biggest concern was the petty drama between me and his childhood friends. When I wish I was the girl who got a flat tire and he was the guy who just happened to be there to help me. That there was a real future ahead of us.
There’s so much he doesn’t know. So much I can’t tell him. And so much I never will.
Ryan takes in the mess on the table next to us. “I guess there’s no way for you to cut out early.”
“No. I have to finish these for tomorrow and then make sure all the tables have linens before I leave.” I pry myself off his lap and scoot back into my chair.
He leans forward, as if he won’t allow too much space between us. “Come work for me. Then we can take off early as often as we wanted.”
Ryan has offered this before, but it’s the first time it sounds like he really means it.
I get busy stacking the place cards into groups. “Working together would be too big a distraction. For both of us,” I say with a quiet laugh, my eyes deliberately on the task in front of me.
His foot tangles with mine. “You’re right. I’d never get anything done. I’d follow you around all day, neglecting everything else,” he says.
The muffled sound of his phone vibrating has him checking his watch to see who’s calling. Ryan groans as he stands up from his chair and digs his device out of his back pocket. “Give me a second,” he says as he steps into the hall to answer the call.
It’s quiet enough down here that I don’t have to try too hard to listen in on his end of the conversation.
“Confirmation?” he asks. A moment later, he says, “One day should be plenty. Send estimated cost and set up arrival for eleven a.m. this Thursday.”
Thursday.
“Anything else come up?” he asks. His shoulders stiffen while he listens to whoever is on the other line. I’m prepared for the glance Ryan gives me over his shoulder and all he sees is my attention firmly on the seating chart in front of me. Then he takes one step farther away from me. The pitch of his voice drops lower. I can’t make out the words, but he’s clearly unhappy and letting it be known. He’s all but growling into the phone. This is not a side of him I have seen before.
“Find it,” he says loudly, before ending the call.
And now I want to know what he lost.
“All good?” I ask as he pockets his phone and makes his way back to me.