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“Thank you, River,” Sebastian says.
“I just have to say,” she says to me, reaching out a hand to finger my long, billowy sleeve. “I love this blouse. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen in my life!”
“Thanks. It’s vintage ‘90s.” I tell her, glancing down at the cacophony of metallic gold, bright purple, and fuchsia on a white background. It’s got a high collar and white, pearly buttons.
When she leaves the room, Sebastian is frowning in her direction.
He turns to me. “So, you’re Elianna York.” He looks down at the laptop he’s set on the coffee table. It’s not a question. More like a concession. A dirty word.
I raise my chin. “I am. And I didn’t know that was you buying pumpkins at the Farmer’s Market. I would have been more professional and—”
He cuts me off. “It’s fine. I do feel the need to say that now that you’re working for Tate International, it might be best to be careful about how you behave in public.”
“Behave in public?” A short laugh boils over. “I did nothing wrong.”
“You practically threw yourself at me.”
An alarm has gone off in my head. A warning for all to back away.
Buh! Buh! Buh!
“I didnotthrow myself at you. Don’t flatter yourself.” I wave him away and press my mostly tame hair down over my shoulder. Can you believe this guy? I was nervous and went typical Elianna weird. There’s a big difference between that and throwing myself at him.
“So what would you call it then? With the whole, ‘we can’t tell each other our names’ thing?” His expression is serious, but I get the sense he’s mocking me.
I adjust my burgundy corduroy skirt to cross my legs and lean back onto the stiff sofa. “I’d call it having an enjoyable conversation with a stranger. Ethan didn’t prepare me for the reality that you’re no fun. I should have known though. Ethan’s no fun, either.” I offer this with a smile.
His glower is one for the books. “Why would I have to be fun? We’re here to do a job.”
I shake my head back and forth, part shiver, part exorcising the bad thoughts. “So, at ten a.m. on a Saturday, at the city park, I have to be doing my job still, huh?”
“Well, you represent the company, so in a way, yes.” He holds up his hands. “Legally, I can’t tell you what to do on your free time, but there is a clause about codes of conduct to protect the company’s reputation.”
I swallow down the sour taste in my mouth. “Understood. I can be professional, Mr. Tate.”
He flexes his jaw, making the muscles dart around. A few minutes ago, I would have found that sexy. Now, it’s just like he’s trying too hard.
“You don’t have to call me Mr. Tate when we’re not out in public.”
What would I call him? Lord Death?
“Understood.” I nod my head, and then add, “Sebastian.”
He scratches that place on his chin where there’s the tiniest sound of his fingertips moving against barely-there whiskers. A part of me responds to that sound, and now my body has betrayed me.
Don’t you know he’s a jerk?I ask my body. Like an obedient child, she calms down.
“First, I need to ask . . .” His gaze bores into me. “Why are you here? Why do you want to work for me?”
“You said to come to Longdale. So, I came to Longdale!” Now I’m laughing. And I don’t know why. All I know is he’s shooting daggers out of his eyes. I don’t want to dwell on this awkwardness, so I have my go-to—laughter and incessant talking—at the ready. “Well, technically, Ethan was the one who said, ‘Go to Longdale,’ but whatever. I was excited to get the call. And just so you know, this has never happened before. I’ve always gotten my own jobs myself, thank you very much. But this time feels serendipitous because you were dying for a new assistant and I was dying for a job, so here we are.” I tug on the hem of my burgundy corduroy skirt, wishing I’d worn something longer.
Sebastian hesitates and I brace myself for a bomb. He looks like he’s trying to figure out a way to let me down easy.
Again, I open my mouth to speak, realizing it’s a nervous habit and I really need to shut it, but I simply cannot.
“Ethan’s told me so much about you. He doesn’t have very many friends because he works too much. Anyway, he also told me something about consulting for your company, so that’s cool that you had him come out here for a couple of days. I appreciate you being his friend.” I fuss with a lock of my hair.
“He’s been a good friend to me,” Sebastian says. He clears his throat, clamps his mouth shut, then opens it again. “Let’s get started,” he says, with an air of agitation and a glance at the doorway, like he’s wishing he could be anywhere but here—with me.
