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“Miss Fields, is everything okay?” he said again, and this time, Farren forced herself to respond.
“I… yes, I’m okay,” she managed, though her blank expression remained on her face as her body remained unmoving.
Mr. Rayner turned to his date, apologizing and whispering for her to meet him inside, assuring her that he would be right there. He held the restaurant door open for her and waited until she was inside before guiding the door closed once more and turning to face Farren.
He walked over to where she stood, also seemingly unaffected by the rain that persisted as Farren stood frozen in place, frozen in time. She didn’t know what to say to him. Not now, with her heart laid bare and ravaged raw. And in no small part thanks to him, no less, even if Paul had been the one to deliver the final blow.
Her eyes finally caught his as he moved closer, within just a few feet from where she stood beneath the awning. Her arms were now folded across her stomach, as if trying to hold herself together. She knew she was vulnerable and defeated beneath his neutral gaze.
“Miss Fields, is there someone I can call for you?” His voice was soothing and sympathetic.
She shook her head. “No, my friend is inside,” she choked out, and the tears spilled down her cheeks again.
It would have been so much easier on her had he not sounded so sympathetic in a moment when all she wanted and needed was to be comforted. Where was the insensitive ass-hole she had encountered earlier?
“Farren, not getting the job is not the end of the world. You are a bright, capable, young woman. I have no doubt you’ll find a job much more suited for you than mine.” The soothing tones of his voice continued, but his patronizing words and his egocentric assumptions sparked a flash of ange
r inside her.
“Seriously? Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Rayner.” She spat his name out like bile on her tongue. “I’m not upset because I didn’t get your job.”
Well, she wasn’t completely upset for that reason, but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of giving him full credit for her current misery.
Surprise flashed across his face momentarily, but he quickly composed himself.
“I see,” he said. “Well, then, what is bothering you to the point of tears?”
She wanted to lash out at him, tell him it was none of his business, and what did he care, anyway. She wanted to push him away from her, or slap the concerned look right off his face. But when she looked past the flecks of water that clung to the lenses of his glasses, to a scar that divided his eyebrow, her venom was replaced with an endearing curiosity.
Her eyes moved from the scar on his brow to another, barely noticeable, just beneath his lower lip. That’s when her own sympathy got the better of her, and she could feel the anger seeping out of her like a deflating balloon.
She hung her head and lowered her eyes to the ground. “My boyfriend. He just told me he wanted a break.”
Even as the words left her lips, she realized how silly she must look to a mature man like Rogan Rayner. She felt about six inches small in that moment and wished she could crawl beneath a rock or just cease to exist.
“I know, it sounds stupid,” she added.
Rogan gave a knowing nod of his head, and the corners of his eyes crinkled in thought for a moment. “The only one who sounds stupid in this situation is the dolt who let you go. That says to me that you can do better.”
When Farren looked back up at Mr. Rayner, she could still see the crinkles in the corners of his eyes that were now cast by his muted smile. She said nothing, but gave a nod in acknowledgement. She couldn’t help but think of the irony that Mr. Rayner was calling Paul a dolt for letting her go when he himself had done just that only hours ago.
“I’d better get inside. Shea is probably wondering where I am, if she hasn’t drank herself into a stupor by now. And you should probably get back to your date. I’m sorry I held you up.” Farren imagined that women like the beauty inside the restaurant waiting for Mr. Rayner did not like to be kept waiting.
At that, Rogan gave Farren a nod and headed back in the direction of the restaurant. When he got just outside the door, Farren called to him.
“Mr. Rayner?”
He paused and turned around to face her.
“You’re right, by the way,” she continued. “I will find something I’m better suited for. I always land on my feet.”
At that, she smiled, turned, and disappeared into Charlie’s.
FOUR
When Farren got home that evening, she tiptoed into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, maneuvering her way around in the dim stove light. She planned to scour the internet for more job openings, which she knew would take hours, and she would need the boost.
She was surprised when the light was flicked on in the kitchen, illuminating her movements, along with her mascara-streaked face.
