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Do I look fearsome today or what? Must be my new power suit. Black pencil skirt, black blazer, pale pink shirt and the cutest high heels.
Lifting my chin up, I carry my folder back to my office and sit down, frowning.
That was really strange. I mean, the fact that Ryan had been staring at Jamie the other day and today they’re both bruised. As if they fought.
Which is nonsense. Why would they? As if Ryan…
Nah. Never. Whatever for?
I should just stop paying attention to Ryan, let him be. Leave him in peace, which is what he obviously wants.
Stop thinking of him, Brylee!
Well, that’s easier said than done, as it turns out… because for some reason he’s always around. What’s up with that, huh?
How’s a girl supposed to stop obsessing when the man of her dreams keeps turning up wherever she goes?
And speaking of the man of her dreams… Why does Riddick keep turning up in my thoughts, too, and why oh why, Good Lord, do I keep dreaming of them together?
It’s so hot. So shockingly exciting I can’t even. Since when am I obsessed with two guys together? Together, and with me, all three of us kissing and touching and…you know. In my dream, it’s so much better than anything I’ve ever tried.
For the first time ever, I’m not sure this is something I can discuss with my mom.
***
Speaking of the devil.
Ryan ambushes me by the reception desk as I wait to talk to our secretary about my vacation time.
Okay, “ambush” may be excessive and sound deliberate, whereas truth be told, I’m not sure what’s going on. The thing is, he’s suddenly there as I wait for Caitlyn, our receptionist, to check on her computer how many vacation days I have left for this year, tapping on his phone and looking preoccupied.
Or angry. I’m not sure which. His brows are drawn over his eyes, and his jaw is clenched. Maybe he’s losing in Candy Crush. Maybe his schedule was disturbed, God forbid.
Or his date for the evening canceled. Just because he won’t go out with me doesn’t mean he won’t see another woman. God knows he left a trail of broken hearts here at the office with his one-night stands.
Funny how I only just realized the meaning of this information that I’ve been gathering for a while. Ryan just doesn’t do relationships. How did I miss it?
And also funny how it bothers me to think of him with another woman. Or man? Anyone. It’s a sting to my heart, imagining him kissing another, touching another. Giving another his undivided attention, the heat of his brilliant gaze, that wry, sexy grin.
On cue, he punches a number into his phone, lifts it to his ear and turns slightly away from me. “Hello, Mabel? It’s Ryan. Ryan Dawson. How are you?”
Heat shoots through my chest. I knew it. I knew he was arranging to meet another.
“When can you come over? Yeah, today is fine. Tonight.”
Shit. I toss my hair over my shoulder, my ears burning with a mixture of humiliation and fury. How dare he do this right beside me? Is he doing it on purpose, to put me down?
Well, it’s working. I never thought I was the prettiest of girls, never thought I was perfect, but now I feel…like trash.
I’ve been so stupid to lay my hopes on him. Riddick was right. When a guy acts like an asshole, then he is an asshole.
“No, you don’t have to call. Just ring the doorbell. Thanks for coming over.”
And with other girls he’s apparently nice and polite. Which makes me feel even worse. I baked for him, for crying out loud, and brought him my creations in cute boxes with bows, and he all but threw me out of his office.
Worse part is that my eyes burn, and my lips tremble.
What is this? Now, Bry. You’re not a little girl anymore. You’ve fought worse disappointments. You can’t let something like this break you.
