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“Oh, she thought it would be like a regular grilled cheese,” my father says. “But she didn’t care for it.”
“Oh,” Ryker says. “I’m sorry to hear that. It’s one of my favorites here. I get it all the time. In fact,” he says, looking at Oswald, “I’m gonna order it tonight.”
“Maybe I should just take it home—“
“No, no, no,” Ryker says. “Stay. Don’t let us interrupt your dinner.”
“No,” I say, motioning to our waiter. “Excuse me, can I get a take-home bag for this, please?”
“Sure,” he says, smiling as he grabs my plate and bustles off to pack it up.
“Are you sure, Aria?” my dad says. “We don’t mind you hanging around.”
“No, I’m fine, Dad. I’m sure you have a lot of boring grown-up things to discuss. I’ll just be the fourth wheel.” I pull out my phone and start tapping. “I’ll just order a car home.”
“We can take you home,” Oswald says, pulling out his phone too. “Our company driver just left. He’s probably only a block or two away.” He smiles at my dad, who smiles back like this is the perfect solution. His precious daughter being treated preciously by his clients.
I want to gag. And open my mouth to protest but Oswald is already talking to the driver. He ends the call and says, “He’s still out front. Ryker, show Miss Amherst where the car is while I go over some things with Mr. Amherst, will you?”
Ryker says, “Sure.”
Just as I say, “That’s not necessary.”
And my dad says, “Thank you, Mr. North.”
And the waiter plops my takeaway bag down in front of me and says, “There you go, sweetie, all set now.”
I just sit there for a moment, unsure what to do, just very, very sure that I should not be alone with Ryker North while my father is in the same room.
But Ryker stands, buttoning his suit coat, and says, “Right this way, Miss Amherst,” as he comes over to pull out my chair.
This little display of chivalry makes my father absolutely beam.
I get up, walk over to my dad, kiss him on the cheek, and say, “Thank you, Daddy. See you on Monday.”
“Have a nice weekend, sweetheart!” he calls. But then he waggles his finger at me and says, “Just don’t have too much fun!”
And Ryker North pans his hand towards the front of the restaurant and says, “This way.”
I walk in front of him and he makes no move to catch up to me or talk until we enter the main lobby of the hotel, at which point he says, “So the truffle grilled cheese was a bad decision all the way around, huh?”
“I don’t think we should talk.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, ignoring my statement. “I shouldn’t have… well, any of it. So I’m sorry.”
“Hmm,” I say, as we near the lobby doors.
“What’s that mean?”
“Any of it?” I ask.
“Look, Aria,” he says, waving me forward into the revolving door. He steps in with me and in those two seconds of absolute privacy he says, “I like you. But you deserve better.”
And then we’re outside walking towards a black car, and a driver is pulling the rear door open for me, and I don’t even get a moment to say anything, because I just scoot inside and the door closes behind me.
I look over at Ryker, trying to get one last look, but he’s already turned back to his business meeting.
CHAPTER TWLEVE – RYKER
I take deep, deep breaths on my way back to the table. Ozzy cannot know how close we came to blowing up this deal. We need this. Our whole plan depends on this one last loan to get us through the project so it actually pays off.
But Aria. Jesus. Why is the universe fucking with me? It’s bad enough that I can’t get that girl off my mind, even worse that I took her virginity and then fingered her in this very restaurant, and now I find out her father holds our future in his hands.
“There he is!” Ozzy says. “Did you make sure Mr. Amherst’s daughter got in the car safely?”
I smile at her father. “She’s well taken care of, sir. No issues, I promise.”
He beams at me, then looks at Ozzy. “Well, I’m very impressed with your thoughtful plan for the Gingerbread neighborhood, Mr. Herrington. As I’m sure you’re aware, this neighborhood is dear to my heart. My older daughter lives there and we started the Creative Co-Op to support the local artists.”
“We know,” Ozzy says. “Ryker here is a drummer from way back. We actually just purchased a space over there this week. Ryker’s getting back to his bad-boy roots!”
“No,” I say. “No bad-boy roots.”
“Ah, come on,” Ozzy says. “He’s being modest. This guy grew up with Kenner McConnell. They taught each other drums back in high school.”
“Who?” Mr. Amherst asks.
