“You work too much, remember? Plus, if you had a woman in your life, she’d be your fake wife now, not me.”
“Right.”
She took another sip of wine, but her gray eyes studied me and I knew she had a question for me.
“Do you think you’ll ever really get married?” she finally asked.
“No.”
Her eyes widened. “Really? Just like that. No.”
I shrugged, feeling a little uncomfortable with the conversation, though I wasn’t sure why. “I know people think I work too much, but I like my work. A family requires time that I don’t have to give right now.”
She nodded seemingly to accept my explanation. “So, you think you’ll work like that forever?”
I watched her, all of a sudden wondering if she was angling for something. Maybe she wanted to be the real Mrs. Ryan Strong.
“Sorry,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I’m prying. I just think you’re young and maybe someday your priorities will change. Unless there’s another reason.”
“What other reason?” I asked, wondering how often she spent time pondering my love life.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re afraid of gold diggers. Maybe you’re afraid of love. Maybe you can’t see yourself settling for one woman.”
Yes, yes and no, I thought. I’d never given much thought to my aversion to love and marriage, but there was a part of me that worried women were more interested in my money than me. Afterall, I was a workaholic. I didn’t have a personality that attracted women.
And love, well that was an emotion that eluded me. I loved my family, no doubt, but I couldn’t say I’d ever been in love, real love, with a woman. I saw what losing love did to my father when my mother died, and that seemed like something to avoid. In fact, I could say the same about my grandmother. They both lost the love of their lives, and while they chose to deal with it differently, my father focusing on his sons while my grandmother focused on business, they both immersed themselves in something to help distract them from their losses. A better option, to my mind, was to not love and los
e.
“Or maybe a woman broke your heart and you’ve vowed to never fall in love again,” Kellie finished.
“Not that.”
“Yes, I doubt you’ve had your heart broken.”
I frowned. “Why would you say that?”
“Who’d break it? You’re smart, successful, handsome…”
“Rich?” I prodded when she hesitated.
“I was going to say a good kisser, but okay, rich.”
My dick perked up. She thought I was a good kisser.
“The point is, you’re a good catch. Who’d toss you back?” she asked.
I finished my wine and reached for the bottle I’d set on the little coffee table. “Someone who thinks I work too much?”
“So, someone did break your heart?” she asked.
“No. But if someone did, that would probably be the reason.” I poured another glass of wine and offered some to Kellie.
She shook her head holding her half-full glass against her chest to avoid my pouring her more wine. “So if you loved someone, you wouldn’t work less to be with them more?”
I sat back wondering how we’d gotten back on me. “Let’s just say I’ve never met anyone that made me change my priorities.”
She looked at me biting her lip like she had a question, but didn’t want to ask it.