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He ran a hand through his hair, blew out a breath and looked at the ground. Then he met her eyes and said, “How the hell did someone find out about that?”
Rylee wasn’t quite fuming, but he had a feeling she would be if they’d been in the privacy of her office. Outside of the TCC, she maintained her composure. Barely.
“You let me believe that you won over the people you met at the weddings you crashed. Now you’re telling me it’s prearranged? You’ve been lying to me.”
“I’ve never lied to you.” To himself, sure. Like last night when he freaked the fuck out and left her alone in her hotel room bed. This morning he woke up feeling like a horse’s ass.
He wasn’t accustomed to planning for the future. His superpower was living in the moment. He’d intended to apologize to Rylee for leaving the moment he saw her. The truth was, he should have stayed and woken up with her this morning. When it came to her, he wanted to stay in the moment with her rather than panic over an unforeseen future.
But this morning he’d suffered his own bout of “cold feet” when he stepped into the elevator. Rather than go up to her floor, he pressed the button for the lobby. He’d been killing time since, shooting B footage and gathering his thoughts. It seemed he’d finally run out of time.
Her arms were folded over her breasts, one fair eyebrow raised while she waited for him to explain himself.
“The bride and groom don’t know about the money.” He kept his voice low. “No one does. I leave the cash anonymously, sliding it in with the other cards and gifts. I’m a wedding guest. I should bring something, right?” He offered a sheepish smile as he palmed the back of his neck, unsure how to take her blank expression.
“You’re not a guest, technically.”
He dropped his hand. “This isn’t what you’re really upset about, is it?”
Her mouth tightened. She turned on her heel and strode away from him. He followed her inside, catching the door before it shut in his face.
“Rylee. Wait. Last night—”
She spun on him, her eyes flashing a warning. “Keep your voice down.”
“You’re not escaping me this easily.”
“Why not? I let you escape easily.”
He sighed. That was fair. He gestured to her closed office door. “Please?”
She watched him for a truncated moment and then huffed her acquiescence. “Fine.”
He pulled the door shut once they were inside. He wanted to kiss her, give her the apology she deserved... make love to her on the desk. Unfortunately she looked as if she might take his head off, so he decided to explain himself first.
“Last night, I left.”
“No kidding.”
“I shouldn’t have.”
Her features softened slightly. “Then why did you?”
“Because I—”
A knock at the door drew her attention.
“Don’t answer that.”
“I have to. This might be a fun little adventure for you to check off your bucket list, but this is my career.” She pushed past him to open the door. One of the catering staff stood in the threshold saying something about a flatware shortage.
“At least nine place settings.” The kid appeared to be around seventeen years old and looked like he might puke on his shoes. Probably because Rylee was shooting laser beams out of her eyeballs at him. Not the kid’s fault. Trick was mostly to blame for her foul mood.
“I wonder—” she snatched a single gold fork from the kid’s hand and tapped it against his nametag “—Rodney, if there is anything left that could go wrong at the last minute.”
“Peaches,” Trick started. It was the wrong thing to say. She aimed those laser beams at him next. He didn’t flinch. “We’ll fix it.”
“Weare not going to do anything.Weare not a ‘we.’” to Rodney, she said, “Is there someone else I can talk to? Someone who might have a contact at the vendor who supplies the flatware?”
