Ryan leans against the open door of the small workroom in the basement of the gallery. Lunch ended less than two hours ago, so I’m impressed with how fast word got to him.

“I heard lunch was awesome,” he says with a grin I recognize but a look in his eyes I don’t. He’s dressed casually today, wearing jeans that he’s probably had since college and an untucked button-down that I know is soft to the touch. It’s a good look on him, making him seem carefree and younger than he is.

I didn’t ask why there was no suit, no tie, no perfectly styled hair this morning while we were getting dressed, and he didn’t offer.

“So much awesome,” I answer back, matching his smile.

I’ve got seventy-five place cards scattered on the table in front of me, all needing to be color coded to match the lunch choice selected by the attendees of tomorrow’s luncheon. He drops down in the chair next to me, his foot sliding against mine while he picks up two of the closest place cards.

“These two need to be as far apart from each other as you can get them.”

I glance at the names written there. I was already informed that it may be a problem for them to be at the same table but decided to do it anyway. I mean, any luncheon where the topic is “Introduction to Art Collecting 101” could stand a little extra excitement.

“Duly noted,” I answer.

He drops the cards back on the table and says, “I’m surprised you didn’t call after.” I swivel in my chair so I’m facing him. “It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”

“But you shouldn’t have to handle that.” His hand reaches for mine, then he’s pulling me into his lap. I glance at the open door, hoping no one catches us like this. I’ve only had this job a couple of weeks, and everyone knows I only got it as a favor to Ryan and nothing more.

“This isn’t helping my credibility here,” I say, even as I snuggle in closer to him.

Ryan wraps an arm around me, anchoring me to him. His finger traces the top edge of my thin tee. “This is killing me right now, just so you know.”

I lean into his hand, and he glances at the empty hallway to make sure we’re still alone down here, but before he gets any ideas of being naughty at work, I say, “I know you’re too busy to come running down here to check on me.” I link my fingers with his to stop his exploration. “Which one called you?”

My money’s on Sara.

“Sara. She’s worried you hate them now.” He lets out a quiet laugh, then his expression changes. Gets serious. “Want to talk about it?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No. I’m not worried about what they think.” I twist around so I can look at him. “But I am worried about what you think.”

Ryan runs a hand through my hair, wrapping the ends around his fist. Holding my face inches from his. “I think you’re wonderful.”

“Well, I think you’re pretty wonderful too.” And for the first time, these words aren’t spoken only to further my cause. For the first time, I mean what I’m saying.

In moments like this I wish things were different. That this was real life and that my biggest concern was the petty drama between me and his childhood friends. When I wish I was the girl who got a flat tire and he was the guy who just happened to be there to help me. That there was a real future ahead of us.

There’s so much he doesn’t know. So much I can’t tell him. And so much I never will.

Ryan takes in the mess on the table next to us. “I guess there’s no way for you to cut out early.”

“No. I have to finish these for tomorrow and then make sure all the tables have linens before I leave.” I pry myself off his lap and scoot back into my chair.

He leans forward, as if he won’t allow too much space between us. “Come work for me. Then we can take off early as often as we wanted.”

Ryan has offered this before, but it’s the first time it sounds like he really means it.

I get busy stacking the place cards into groups. “Working together would be too big a distraction. For both of us,” I say with a quiet laugh, my eyes deliberately on the task in front of me.

His foot tangles with mine. “You’re right. I’d never get anything done. I’d follow you around all day, neglecting everything else,” he says.

The muffled sound of his phone vibrating has him checking his watch to see who’s calling. Ryan groans as he stands up from his chair and digs his device out of his back pocket. “Give me a second,” he says as he steps into the hall to answer the call.

It’s quiet enough down here that I don’t have to try too hard to listen in on his end of the conversation. “Confirmation?” he asks. A moment later, he says, “One day should be plenty. Send estimated cost

and set up arrival for eleven a.m. this Thursday.” Thursday.

“Anything else come up?” he asks. His shoulders stiffen while he listens to whoever is on the other line. I’m prepared for the glance Ryan gives me over his shoulder and all he sees is my attention firmly on the seating chart in front of me. Then he takes one step farther away from me. The pitch of his voice drops lower. I can’t make out the words, but he’s clearly unhappy and letting it be known. He’s all but growling into the phone. This is not a side of him I have seen before.

“Find it,” he says loudly, before ending the call. And now I want to know what he lost.

“All good?” I ask as he pockets his phone and makes his way back to me.

He shakes it off and even gives me that grin that shows his dimple. “Yeah, just a little problem at work.” He drops back down in the chair next to me.

I swivel my chair to face his. “I guess if I worked for you, I could help sort through those problems.” The work problem he’s dealing with is not one I’d be aware of if I took the job he was offering me.

He’s tense but still manages to lean closer, sliding his hand into mine. “But you turned me down, so I guess I’m on my own.”

We’re both dancing around things we can’t say.

These feelings for him are leading me down a path I cannot take, so this little reminder of all he’s hiding from me and all I’m hiding from him is welcome.

“When do you think you’ll be done here?” he whispers, before kissing me gently on the lips. I pull back just enough to answer him. “Maybe an hour? What time are you off the clock?”

“About the same.” Ryan gives me one last kiss then gets up. He’s almost to the door when he adds, “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

I nod and fidget in my seat. “I know.”

He stares at me for a few seconds, long enough that an irrational part of me thinks he can see past this glossy outer layer I’ve created. Then he adds, “Even when my friends act like assholes.”

Smiling, I say, “Even then. Don’t worry, I don’t scare easy. I’ll see you at home soon.” Another glance at his phone, then his eyes are back on me. “I like the sound of that.”

I watch until he disappears down the hall and around the corner.

The place cards are done. Mrs. Roberts and Mrs. Sullivan will be staring at each other across table 1 while I’m sure everyone else will be staring at them. All of my other to-do items have been checked off, but before I clock out for the day, there’s a call I need to make.

She answers on the second ring.

“Hey, Rachel,” I say. “It’s Evie. Do you have a minute?” Silence. And then, “Sure, what do you need?”

I lean back in my chair and glance down the hall to make sure no one is around. “We got off on the wrong foot and I hate it.” I let that hang a few seconds then add, “I’d love it if we could try again.”

She’s quiet, and then I hear a soft laugh. “I have to admit, after all the calls I’ve gotten about our lunch today, this is one I wasn’t expecting.”

Ryan must have called her, but she wasn’t surprised he did. And now I’m curious what he said to her.

“I’m as much to blame with how things went down,” I say. “It’s really hard for me to talk about my past.”

“No, I shouldn’t have pushed so hard. It was very insensitive.” She says “insensitive” as if that was the main criticism lodged against her in her earlier conversations.

“Truce?” I ask.

“Sure, truce,” she answers, her words clipped.

I let out a relieved sigh that I make sure she can hear. “Great! Well, I guess we’ll see you Saturday at the Derby party.”

“Can’t wait,” Rachel says, then ends the call. I smile when I drop the phone in my bag.

Rachel is probably leaning back in her chair, our conversation replaying in her head while staring out the window of her small office, three doors down from the coveted corner one I’m sure she eyed the first day she walked the halls of the most prestigious law firm in town—the office reserved for partners. It’s the same firm where on breaks from law school she interned during the week and screwed a junior partner on the weekends. The same law firm that handles anything Ryan needs.

She’s picking apart my story, looking for the truth behind my words. And from my research, she’s good at what she does. Something isn’t sitting right with her, and she’s trying to decide if digging into my background is worth the possibility of losing Ryan’s friendship.

Rachel is one I’ll need to watch a little closer.