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Writing a story about the ranch and featuring Adrian doesn’t have to be an expose. Not if I don’t use anything personal.
A part of me can imagine my words already, the painstaking detail I’ll use to describe the ranch, and all of its wonder.
The other part of me shirks away from the idea, knowing full well how Adrian is going to take it.
If his reaction is anything to go by, Adrian isn’t going to accept anything I write about him, flattering or otherwise.
With a slight shake of my head, I move to step away from Adrian, but his hand darts out to close around my wrist. He says something else to Maureen then his eyes settle on my face.
“Ms. Clark, can you step into my office? I’d like to discuss this issue further, so we can come up with a solution.”
I stare between his hand on my wrist and his face.
Finally, Adrian releases me, and I take an uncertain step back. Slowly, I nod and unfold my arms. Adrian spins on his heels and leads the way down a series of twists and turns.
My feet are light and soundless against the carpeted floor, and I try not to gawk at the paintings hung up on either side of me.
Many of them are done with broad brush strokes and bright colors.
At the end of one hallway, Adrian stops and takes a key out of his pocket. He swipes, and the door clicks open. Then he glances over at me and pushes it open all the way.
I duck underneath his arm on the way past, the scent of pinewood hitting me first.
Inside, there is a small rectangular-shaped desk, with rows of bookshelves, and a small window partially overlooking the riding arena.
An AC whirs in the background, and the smell of lavender and pinewood lingers in the air. The door clicks shut behind me, and Adrian brushes past.
He steps behind his desk and rummages through his drawers till he pulls out a decanter of whiskey. After pouring a generous amount into two glasses, he circles back to me.
Adrian leans his hip against the desk and continues to stare at me.
There is a low buzzing in the back of my head. I take the glass from him and swallow the whole drink in one gulp.
Then I exhale and place the glass on the desk. “I don’t appreciate you treating me like I’ve done something wrong. It’s not like you found out that I’m writing a story about you.”
“Would you have told me if I hadn’t overheard you?”
“Considering I have no intention of writing it, what good would it have done?”
Adrian frowns. “Because a story like this could get you the promotion you’ve been wanting. Your boss already brought that up, didn’t she?”
I let my hands curl into fists at my side. “Even if she did, you should know me well enough by now to know that I wouldn’t take a story like that.”
“I think I know you. But you keep insisting that you don’t know me,” Adrian protests, his eyes blazing with emotion. “This is never going to work if you keep doubting me, Danielle.”
“I wouldn’t have to if you were honest with me.”
Adrian’s expression darkens. “I already told you that I don’t like to talk about my relatives, not yet. There are still issues to work on. I’ve had too many people try and cozy up to me for a story. I’m not going to let it happen again.”
I throw my hands up in the air. “Oh, is that where we are now? You actually think I’ve been lying to you this whole time?”
Adrian pushes himself off the desk. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“I don’t, but you’re the one who’s acting like I’ve committed some sort of crime. I pitched an idea to my boss, and she had suggestions. Of course she would suggest that I include you in the piece. She’d be crazy not to!”
Adrian holds himself very still. “So, you are going to write the piece?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Adrian. I’m not the problem here. You are. You’re the one who’s been playing games for the past couple of weeks. You tell me that you’re falling in love and that you want future. But then you act like I don’t exist and are embarrassed to be seen with me.”
