“Fine,” I say before starting to type. “I don’t want you giving me any more puppy dog eyes.”
She chuckles.
At first, I type sure. Too eager. I change that to OK. Too nonchalant. I scrap that and type a new message.
We could. Pick me up at 2?
Then I send that before I have time to second-guess it.
He replies almost immediately.
“Two it is,” Christy reads the message out loud. Then she gives me a hug. “I’m so happy for you.”
And I realize I’m happy, too. Maybe this is a fresh start.
I pick up my glass of champagne and raise it. “Cheers!”
“Cheers!” Christy echoes as she raises her own glass.
After our glasses clink in the air, I lift mine to my lips. I intend to gulp down every drop, but after my first sip, Christy takes the glass away from me.
“No more drinking,” she says as she sets the glass down and waves a finger at me. “You have a date later, remember?”
~
A date. With Ryker.
Even now that I’m on it, it still seems so unreal.
As I run around the warehouse dressed like a surgeon with a paint gun in hand, everything seems in slow motion and yet a blur at the same time. I can’t wipe the smile off my face, not even when a big blob of lime green paint hits the side of my neck and splatters up to my chin. Adrenaline buzzes through my veins, not just from the game but from the very thought of being all alone with Ryker in a big warehouse.
So this is what a real date with Ryker is like. Unbelievable.
He’s unbelievable. He’s fast. He’s agile. He shoots so well. If I didn’t know he was a corporate executive, I would have thought he was a Marine.
And he looks damn attractive. Even now, with his hair all ruffled from being imprisoned underneath a helmet and with blobs of paint all over his silly gown, I still want to kiss him.
Maybe I will after I give him a piece of my mind.
“Liar,” I tell him as I take off my helmet. “You said you were going to let me win.”
Ryker walks towards me. “I said I was going to let you hit me a few times at the start, which I did. I never said anything about letting you win.”
“And you couldn’t have toned your skills down a little?”
He chuckles. “I guess I was showing off.”
Charming. But I’m not going to let him off easy.
“Well, you were supposed to be making things up to me,” I tell him.
“Oh.” Ryker’s grin vanishes. “I was supposed to lose so you’d forgive me?”
I shake my head. “Never mind.”
I sit on the floor, put my gun down beside me and rest my head on a bean bag that looks like a barrel. Now that the game is over and some of the adrenaline is starting to fade, I realize I’m tired. My arms are sore from carrying the gun. My feet hurt from running around, my legs ache from all the crouching. Add to all that the fact that I only got a few hours of sleep this morning—I tried to sleep longer but I was too excited—and I can safely say I’m exhausted.
Ryker sits beside me. “We can play another game, you know. I promise I’ll let you win this time.”
“No, thanks.” I shake my head. “I don’t think I can move for a while.”
He sinks his head into the bean bag. “Does that mean I’m forgiven, then?”
Is he?
I touch my chin. “Hmm. Let me think.”
Ryker draws a breath. “I really am sorry, you know. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that and stormed out.”
I look at him. “Why did you?”
He touches his forehead and sighs. “I guess I was angry. But not at you. At myself. Listening to you talk about all the places you’ve been, all the experiences you’ve had, and then having you ask me questions about where I am and where I’m going, I just suddenly felt like… like a failure.”
So that’s why he snapped.
“Trust me,” I tell him. “I had no intention of making you feel that way.”
“I know. None of it was your fault. All you did was tell me about the life you lived these past several years, which I asked you to. And believe me, I am so proud of all you’ve accomplished, of what you’ve become. I was in awe of everything you’ve done. I still am. But then I got envious.”
My eyebrows furrow. “Envious?”
“You followed your dreams. You went places. You went on adventures. You… flew. And the whole time you were flying, I’ve been stuck here in Chicago behind a desk.”
“I thought you went to Switzerland,” I tell him. “I saw a picture of you there.”
“Yeah, I’ve traveled,” Ryker says. “But mostly for business. Most of the time, even when I’m in another country, I’m still behind a desk or at a conference table.”