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“What? Why?” She looks at me with those big eyes of hers, and it’s all I can do to keep from pulling her into my chest. To comfort her and keep her safe.
“Because I’m going to get that meeting with Mrs. Witmore. I’m flying out to California, and I won’t stop until I track her down and get her to take a meeting with me.” It’ll have to be on my own dime. There’s no way Pat Dorchester and Thomas Bunker are paying for it. Not with the fate of the company up in the air and one of them eager to sell.
“Are you sure?” Elana’s voice is hesitant, but I see that glimmer of hope back in her eyes.
“I’m positive. I can leave from here. There’s a shuttle to the airport. You good driving back by yourself?” It’s a long drive from Atlanta to Wilmington.
“Of course.”
I get up and hold my hand out for her. Pulling her into a hug, I hold on a little longer than necessary. It’s more for my benefit than for hers.
“Be safe,” I say when she pulls away.
“Good luck.”
I watch her walk out of the hotel and into the parking structure across the street before heading to the airport shuttle.
With nothing by the small messenger bag I’d packed before we left, ticketing and security are a breeze. I make it with close to two hours to kill before the plane leaves.
Heading to the bar, I see a familiar face. “Mrs. Witmore?” I ask, taking a seat next to a woman in her mid to late fifties wearing a designer suit, hair and makeup perfect. I can’t believe my luck. This has to be some sort of cosmic sign, running into her here.
She extends a slim hand with brightly painted red nails. “Who’s asking?” A smile spreads across her lips as she looks me up and down.
The examination makes me feel like I need a shower. And not a cold one. The lady has a bit of a reputation on the west coast and seems to live up to it.
“I’m Ryan Matthews, and I’m wondering if you could help me out of a bit of a pickle.”
Chapter Seven
Elana
“Hi, Dad. I’m on my way back to Wilmington.” Thirty miles outside of Atlanta, the traffic is finally calming down.
“How did it go, honey? Did you track that lady down?” he asks.
“We didn’t. We were too late.” I’m still processing the implications of that fact. No matter how much Ryan is trying to hold on to hope, we’re doomed.
“I’m sorry.” He becomes quiet for a moment, and I’m not sure what to say either. “You know you’ll always have a place here, right?”
“Thanks, Dad.” I swallow and force my eyes to stay focused on the road ahead of me. Bright white lines on black tarmac stretch ahead of me as I drive mile after mile.
“Your mother and I built a nice life for ourselves here. You can do the same. Settle down, teach at the school…”
“I know.” It’s not what I want, and I’m pretty sure Dad knows that. Having me move back is Mom’s dream. And maybe his as well.
“Is Ryan driving?” he asks.
“No. I’m by myself. Ryan is flying to Hollywood.” To chase a lead we don’t have. There’s a reason the owners brought him in in the first place. It’s because no one could nail down the contracts and get enough commitments for shows to keep us profitable. What makes Ryan think he can change all that with one chance meeting?
“Hmm…” My father’s tone is pensive.
I realize that this entire trip was nothing but a setup for a chance meeting. And it had been my idea. I sigh. When did my life become such a hot mess?
“How well do you know this Ryan guy?” Dad asks. There’s something in his tone that tells me this is something he’s been thinking about quite a bit since we left him in the kitchen this morning.
“I don’t know. He’s been my boss for a few weeks, and we work closely together.” We’ve talked. Shared plenty of meals and a few stolen kisses. But at the end of the day, I didn’t know a lot about the man.
“I get a feeling he’s hiding something. Do you think there’s a chance he’s heading back to California, leaving the rest of you out to dry?” Dad asks.
