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She focused on cutting her French toast. “Yes,” she said.
Lukas grinned. “Good. Right, then. Althea’s wedding. When is it?”
“End of July. Right before I leave.” She told him the date.
“Same day as the reception,” he said. “For the grant winners. It’s going to be a big deal at the Plaza. The mayor and all that.” He grimaced.
“Well, you probably won’t have to wear pastel,” Holly told him philosophically.
Lukas blanched. “Pastel?”
Holly smiled. “Never mind.”
“Want a bite of my omelet?” He held out his fork to her.
She nibbled off it, then licked her lips. “Very tasty.”
Lukas groaned. “Now can we talk about going back to bed?”
“No. We need to go back to the gallery so you can get me up to speed on this new job I’ve agreed to do.”
So after one last cup of coffee, they headed back to the gallery where Lukas spent the rest of the afternoon on the gallery floor and then in the manager’s office showing Holly the ropes, and periodically suggesting they go back upstairs as he had plenty of things he could show her there.
Holly just smiled and shook her head. She took her new job seriously, it seemed, peppering him with questions, half of which he didn’t know the answers to. But he gave her the basics, explained the books, and gave her information about the opening coming up, and realized he should not have been so confident as to leave it all in Jenn’s hands.
“She put some of it in place from Sydney.” He knew that much. He said so as they walked back to her condo late that afternoon. They’d spent hours that could have been more interestingly occupied getting up to speed on work. “You can call her. You should call her. And I’ll help as much as I can.” He felt guilty handing the mess off to her. It had been a spur-of-the-moment suggestion, and he’d been amazed she had agreed. “Sera can help, too.”
“It’ll be a challenge.” Holly unlocked her door and opened it. “But I’ll do my best.”
“Of course you will. And it’ll be fine.” He started to follow her in, but she turned to face him instead.
“So let me get going on it.”
“What?”
“Go away. I have work to do.”
“It’s Sunday!” he protested.
“Which means I have one day to get my head around everything. I repeat, go away.”
“But—”
“And don’t pull out the ‘I’m your boss’ card,” Holly said unrepentantly. “It’s what you wanted—a trade-off, remember? I work for you, I get the apartment until I leave. We agreed,” she reminded him. “And I mean what I say. I do what I say.”
Holly kept her promises. She always had. It was why she’d been so angry with him the night of her prom: because she was engaged, she had made a promise to Matt and felt she had broken it with him. He raked a hand through his hair. “Fine. Go for it. If you have questions, follow the noise. I’m going to go find a wall to knock down.”
* * *
She spent the rest of Sunday afternoon going over the artists’ material, getting a feel for what they did, and then went back downstairs to see how it was displayed. She carried a notebook and made copious notes. And all the while she did so, she was aware of the sounds of destruction coming from upstairs. Lukas at work.
The thought made her smile. She could imagine him shirtless, working with a crowbar, muscles flexing and bunching. She wondered if he was wearing a tool belt. She was almost tempted to go up and see. But she didn’t.
She was living in the moment—and the moment was here in the gallery, getting a grip on what she needed to do.
There would be time for Lukas later, she was sure of it.
And she was right. He banged on her door at seven and said, “Enough work,” in an authoritative tone. “Come and eat.”
“I have to change. Where are we going?”
“To my place,” he said. “And as far as I’m concerned, you don’t have to wear anything at all.”
She took a shower and put on clean clothes and went upstairs, reining in her skepticism about Lukas’s ability to cook. But he really had made dinner—spaghetti and meat sauce, a fresh green salad and crusty hot garlic bread.
She was amazed. Matt couldn’t boil water. She’d given up trying to teach him how to do anything in the kitchen. It was easier to do it herself. But it was wonderful to actually have a man cook for her—even one who had her out of her clothes and back in his bed before she could offer to wash the dishes.
