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“You party pooper,” she said, then huffed. “Okay, call me later.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I opened the door, and Ryan’s grin awaited me on the other side. “Hello, Ms. Hannam.”
My cheeks burned at the formality, stealing the smile from my face.
He must have noticed it threw me off and stepped in while dangling a paper bag in front of me. “I just meant—because of your job. You’re a professional now.”
“Oh.” I accepted the bag and inhaled a long breath. “Mmm. Breakfast tacos.”
“These are from Tacodeli. That’s why it took a while, but they’re good! Not sure how Houston tacos are.”
“My mouth is watering just thinking about it. I actually don’t eat breakfast tacos very much.”
He looked genuinely surprised. “Really?”
I shrugged a shoulder. “My mom doesn’t like eggs. Or bacon. Or tortillas.”
Ryan sat in my chair and leaned back with his hands behind his head. “Sounds boring.”
I laughed. “A little.”
I tossed him a taco and unwrapped mine after settling on the edge of the bed. These tacos were pretty good, but I had to admit, I remembered some pretty amazing ones in Houston, too.
“When’s your meeting again?” he asked through a mouthful of egg and potato.
I chose to swallow mine before answering and took a drink of the water I’d left on my bedside table. “Well, actually, I don’t think I’m going.”
“Why?”
“I think I’m going to quit.”
“Are you sure? It’s not because of what I said, right?”
I shook my head. “You helped me think more about it, but no. I’ll find another job where I’m not under this kind of pressure. I don’t need to wonder if someone will hold their power over my head.”
He nodded slowly and chose this time to swallow his bite first. I appreciated that he didn’t gloat about being right or anything like that. It was comforting to know he wanted to be there for me, but then I felt a little sad knowing that, by quitting, I’d have to move back home before I even got started living here.
“Well,” Ryan said, seeming to choose his words carefully. “Does that mean you wouldn’t consider working for someone like me?”
The question took me by surprise. For a moment, I was sure that my mom had texted or called Ryan to suggest it, but she sucked at hiding things, and even though she brought it up only minutes before, she would have left behind more than a clear hint that she’d said something. My mother could meddle, but I knew her well enough to know when she did, so this idea had to be Ryan’s own.
“Do you actually want me to?” I asked, still trying to weigh my options. I faced him directly and met his gaze. “Or are you just trying to help?”
“I’ve thought about it a bit. You know I’m trying to iron things out here and in Waco and Houston and the other places I want to open up. I’m not good at this, Christie. I need help. That’s something you can do, right?”
He was asking me. He almost looked embarrassed, and that alone made me feel more secure about it. Ryan really wanted me to work with him. The prospect didn’t bother me as much as it did when my mom brought it up, but I still wasn’t sure whether it was what I should do.
“I don’t know.”
Ryan rose from the chair, and it spun behind him. He stepped closer to me and reached out for my hands. We stood there for a moment, our fingers swaying like a small swing, and with every passing second, the proposition felt more real.
“I know it’s not the perfect situation, especially now that we have some kind of history.” He smiled but stared at our hands. “But I really want you here, Christie.”
“So that’s why you’re offering me a job?”
