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“That’s sweet.”
“Since he’s agreed to film pre-wedding festivities, he’s been around a lot. He continues to surprise me with brunch or snacks or offering to pick up a delivery. I didn’t expect him to be this helpful. On his channel, he seemed, I don’t know.Different.”
“He’s an entertainer. Not unlike Ari when she’s in actress-mode. Or Xavier when he’s touring for his latest book. Trust me, I understand what it’s like to expect someone to be a certain way and having them surprise you.”
Dee’s smile warmed when she met eyes with Tripp across the room. “At first, I thought Tripp wasn’t taking our assigned task as seriously as he should, but then I learned that he approaches problems from a different vantage point then me.”
Rylee thought of Patrick mentioning his ADHD, and considered her own assumptions. He gleefully followed his impulses whereas she tended to plan everything out before attempting.
“Opposites attract,” Dee said with a twinkle in her eye. “Don’t underestimate how hot it can be between the sheets.” Dee whispered that last part at the same time a glass of white wine was placed in front of Rylee.
Busted, she straightened her spine as Trick sat next to her with a beer. He started talking to Tripp about the ranch, and soon enough Dee was pulled into the conversation as well.
Rylee admired Patrick’s ability to win over everyone he met. Even her, and she would have thought herself immune to a guy like him. In the end, it hadn’t taken much for him to win her over to his side.
She thought about their explosive kiss and considered what Dee had said about how good their differences might play out in the bedroom. For the first time, Rylee considered taking a page from Trick’s playbook and not planning ahead for a change. She sipped her wine and watched him through her lashes.
Tonight, she’d see where the evening took her. Or, more aptly, where it tookthem.
Eight
Rylee waved goodbye to Tripp and Dee as they made their way to the exit. She was feeling more relaxed than she had earlier, which was typically a warning sign. Staying vigilant was the only way to keep from overlooking pertinent details.
A quick glance at her watch showed that it was after six o’clock, well past quitting time for the average nine-to-five American, but for a wedding planner of a famous couple whose wedding was three days away...
“Whoa, whoa.” Patrick gripped her shoulder. “You were loose and happy a second ago, but now you look as if a ghost walked over your grave.”
“One very well might have. I never take this much time off so close to the wedding day.” She looked around the bar, as nervous as if Ari and Ex were standing in the corner, ready to scold her. “It’s criminal.”
“Stealing light bulbs from the Cattleman’s Club is criminal,” Trick corrected. “Having a drink after a long day is merely human.”
“You’re in your own world. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Almost everyone has told me that.” His easy smile suggested he’d taken criticism lightly in the past. Not that she’d meant it that way. His lifestyle was enviable at times. “Lucky for you, you’re in my world now.”
“I thought you were in mine.”
“Oh, I am. But afterhours? That’s squarely in my realm.” He lifted her wineglass by the stem. A scant amount of warm liquid sat in the bottom of the glass. “You’ve been nursing this for an hour. Let me freshen it up for you. One more?”
She opened her mouth to say she couldn’t. That she had to go back to the TCC office and gather her laptop, and then go up to her room and work in bed until two in the morning. She wasn’t sure what changed her mind, but thought it might have something to do with the eager anticipation in Trick’s eyes. She wanted to tell him yes, as she’d told him yes several times before.
“I’m concerned by how easily you talk me into things,” she said.
“Happens to the best of them, Rylee. No sense fighting enjoying yourself.” His grabbed his empty mug as well. “Enjoyment is what life’s about.”
He was back from the bar in a blink with a fresh, chilled glass of chardonnay for her and another beer for him. She held the wine in her mouth for a second, savoring its oaky, buttery flavor.
“I do need to collect my things from the office tonight,” she said, unable to let go of the idea completely.
“Why?” He appeared sincerely perplexed, which made her laugh out loud.
“Because the wedding—”
“Is Saturday. I know. For argument’s sake, let’s say none of those feathery pens work.”
Her blood went as cold as her wine.
“Yep, you heard me. The guests show up, pluck the pens out and set them to the guest book to write their autographs.” His eyes widened in faux horror. “And thennothingcomes out. Not a single drop of ink. Now what?”
