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“I don’t eat that much ketchup.” It was more ketchup with a side of potatoes than the other way around.
“Try it,” she insisted.
I stared at it dubiously before forking up some. It wasn’t the best thing I’d ever tasted but it was an improvement over the bland potatoes.
“Well?”
“Better.” I kept eating them.
“Why don’t you like your brother?”
I immediately started to correct her then went with the truth. “It’s not that I don’t like him. I don’t like that he doesn’t understand his obligations.”
“Why should he? You understand enough for both of you.”
“Do you make a habit of being unnaturally perceptive or do I bring out something unusual in you?”
She forked up her potatoes with gusto and smiled after she chewed and swallowed. “Little of both.”
“Did you go to college?”
“Did you see one on my resumé?”
“No. But maybe you didn’t graduate. Or didn’t have a good experience.”
“I didn’t go. I barely got out of high school.” She rested her chin on her palm. “I’m not qualified to work for you.”
“Says who?”
“You before you wanted in my panties.” She sounded teas
ing, but she looked down at her plate quickly.
Too quickly.
“That’s not true.”
“You don’t want in my panties?”
“I wish you never wore panties, ever.”
“Hmm, sounds like a lawyerly deflection.”
“Ryan.” I reached for her hand and circled my thumb over the center of her palm. She watched me touch her, saying nothing. “You were so good with Mrs. Franklin. You helped her in a way I couldn’t. I wouldn’t have had any clue how.”
“I just reacted. It’s not like—”
“And the records room. Already it’s so much better than it was before. Because of you. You have talents you don’t give yourself credit for.”
She sniffed. “Hardly. I know exactly what I’m worth.”
“You don’t know what you’re worth to me.” I pressed my thumb harder into her soft flesh, and she gasped before her fingers wrapped tight around my finger.
Neither of us spoke for a moment before I shifted my hold and laced our fingers together on the table. We were in Syracuse, not near Kensington Square, but I wouldn’t have cared if we were. I wanted to hold on to her.
Had to. And I wanted her to hold on to me.
“You mentioned art,” I said suddenly.
