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I’m all thumbs again. I can barely open my menu.
Ryan runs his fingers over the hem of my dress. “You all right?”
I nod.
“You really get your first three clients last week?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s amazing, Leigh.”
“Thanks.”
“You start work on them?”
I nod.
“Can I see?”
“Of course.” I pull up my cloud storage app and find the designs. The first—a historical romance with a woman in a glorious dress—is done. The second two, both smutty covers with shirtless models showing off their six-packs, are works in progress.
I hand the phone to Ryan.
He studies each image like it’s something going on his body.
The waitress stops by. We order. He continues staring.
She drops off our coffees.
He continues staring.
I down my entire mug in three long sips.
He continues staring.
Finally, he hands my cell back. His knee brushes mine as he turns toward me.
He stares into my eyes. “Fucking amazing.”
My blush spreads to my chest. There’s so much earnestness in his voice, his eyes, his smile. Praise from Ryan is rare. And it’s always earned. “Thank you.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.” I want to believe it, that I’m good enough to do this on my own. That I’m skilled enough to deserve Ryan’s praise. “You’re my biggest fan.”
“I am.” He runs his fingertips over my chin. “We didn’t celebrate your class finishing.”
“We weren’t talking.”
“You weren’t talking to me.”
“You apologized for kissing me.”
“I thought you were in love with Dean.”
“I know.” I lean into his touch as he runs his fingertips down my neck.
“If I’d know it was me—” He traces the neckline of my dress. “Fuck. I don’t know what I would have done. I can barely comprehend it now.”
