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Whatever this is. What is this? Ox said Connor liked me, and I’ll admit, I like him, too. We’ve spent the past four days together. I’d like there to be more days if I’m honest. I feel like Connor understands me. He doesn’t tease me about my incessant need to talk or ask me hundreds of questions about Juilliard or my few years as a professional. And he feeds me. He’s always feeding me. I know I’ve lost a few pounds with the stress over the decision to quit my job, but I still don’t look as dangerously thin as I did in my Philharmonic days.
I follow the aroma of coffee and what I think are muffins baking and go down the stairs and into a huge gourmet kitchen. There’s a massive island of white marble and dark blue cabinetry. The walls of the kitchen are clad in white cabinetry accented with beadboard inserts. A honed stone countertop snakes around the whole of the kitchen. It’s an unusual stone with some sort of swirl of blue and grays. Connor must hire a decorator.
“Feel better?”
I nod. “You cook, too?”
“I dabble. I do own six restaurants, after all.”
“Only six?”
Conner grins. “Well, Ox and I own them together. He’s mostly the silent partner who puts up a lot of money and complains. I manage and run them and all of that.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“It is, actually. Which is what I want to talk to you about.” Connor fills a mug with steaming hot coffee and drops two huge blueberry muffins onto a plate. Both are carried to me by the lion. At least, he has that predatory look about him just now that makes me think of the lion tattoo on his back.
I stare down at the muffins. They look amazing. The berries are huge, plump and look as though they’re about to erupt with sweet juice the minute I bite into them. They’re smeared with melted butter and I find my mouth watering for what is honestly the second time this morning. The first — being pinned under Connor’s body in bed.Down girl,Inner Foodie scolds the Goddess.Eat first. Flirt later.
“What do you want to talk about?” I ask as I pinch off a piece of my muffin. Curls of steam drift upward out of the fluffy pastry.
“I was thinking I’d take some time off — a vacation. It’s summer, after all. Everyone needs some downtime. I want to head up to one of my favorite places by the beach and just veg out, you know?”
“Sounds like a plan.” I hope my tone doesn’t reflect my disappointment. We just met, and he wants to go out of town for what sounds like an indeterminate about of time. Inner Sex Goddess starts pouting, and I’m right there with her.
“I’d like you to come with me,” he proposes. His tone is so nonchalant you’d think he’d just asked me if I wanted more coffee, not if I’d go on a trip with him. Vacation? With Connor? Foodie and Sex Goddess already have their suitcases down and are starting to pack, but Miss Insecurity is not so sure. I stare mutely considering my options.
Connor gives me that amused little smile again and almost laughs.
For someone who talks non-stop, I literally have nothing to say. I totally did not see this coming. But I have to say something. He’s expecting an answer of some kind.
“Really?” And that’s what I come up with. Oh yeah, I’m a regular wordsmith. I stuff a huge bite of muffin into my mouth to stall. It’s rude to speak with a mouth full of food, after all. Maybe that’s why he’s always feeding me.
“Yeah, I know we’re just getting to know one another, but I’d like you to come along. I think it would be fun. We could get to know one another better. And, well, you were unhappy the other night about the fact you haven’t been on a vacation in a while. I think you could use some time away, too.”
“Connor, I’m unemployed. I can’t just drop everything and go on a trip.”
“What’s your situation? Financially, I mean.”
I blanch. That’s a very personal question! I mean, yes, I was just upstairs in his bed, where I slept all night in his T-shirt and we kissed this morning and I felt his arousal pressed against me. And why is it that that feels exciting and this feels like an invasion into my privacy? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?
“I know it’s none of my business. But you don’t strike me as the irresponsible type. You drive a hybrid for crying out loud. You’ve got to have a little put back, right? If you can float your expenses for the next few weeks, I’ll pick up the trip. Everything. It’ll be my treat. Transportation, hotels, tickets, food, everything.”
“Connor, I can’t do that. I mean, I could, but I shouldn’t. That’s too much.”
“So, you could swing your bills for a while?” He swallows half of a muffin in one bite.
“Sure, six months or so,” I confess.
“Whoa! Really?”
I sigh and give him a half-hearted shrug before pushing the second half of my first muffin into my mouth. I use the time it takes me to chew and swallow to think of what to say. My mother has drilled financial independence into me since I was five years old and started my first savings account. Well, it was a piggy bank, but I was required to save. Every birthday and Christmas, a portion of any money I’d been gifted was put back for “a rainy day.” Funny, but when the rain finally came, it wasn’t money I needed to clear away the gray clouds.
“I pay cash for everything. Even my car is paid for. All I have is my rent, utilities and living expenses. I canceled all non-essentials the day I quit my job. Besides, people with boring lives have nothing to spend their money on anyway, remember?”
“Lainey Bird, you are far from boring. So, it’s all settled. We leave tomorrow. Meet me at the bar at six. You need someone to come by and feed a cat or water plants or something? I can get the kid who housesits for me to do it.”
“Connor, I can’t go on vacation with you. I have to find a job.” Seriously? Problems of the spoiled little rich man.
“You have to clear your head. You have to put some space between whatever it is you’re moving away from before you can move on to the next thing.”
I’m shaken at how close to mark that comment is. I’ve known for a while I was running. Running from my parents, running from Juilliard, then fromthe one who shall not be named, then from the grab-ass at Pittman & Wright. Running is exhausting. It is completely irresponsible, but a break from my life sounds like heaven.
“You may be right.” He gives me a hard stare at my comment. “OK, you are right. How much did I tell you that night I got so drunk, anyway?”
“You said enough. Please, Raven, I want to do this with you. I want to do itforyou. For reasons I hope one day I’ll be able to fully explain.”
He calls me Raven. I haven’t had anyone other than my parents and sister call me by that name in such a long time. And the tone of it on his lips sounds like a song, not a curse. Not the way I was so used to hearing before I became Elaine. Oh my goodness, I think I just fell a little in love with Connor Rose.
