by Robyn Neeley
“What about wishing me luck with Logan?” Sarah asked, slightly perturbed. This was a big weekend for her and her plan. She needed her closest gal pal in the city to support her on this.
Chloe stood in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear. “Have a good weekend with Mr. Right.”
“Way to be neutral.” Sarah scoffed and shook her head, realizing Chloe was playing with words, given Ryan’s last name.
Her phone buzzed. Speaking of Mr. Wright, she smiled down at Ryan’s text. He was outside. Prompt as always. He’d suggested they leave early to avoid weekend traffic out of the city. She liked that he was in charge today, and she could sit back in his passenger seat and enjoy the trip. No meetings to schedule, no emails to answer, no office parties to plan.
As she carried her suitcase down the building’s stairs and exited her building, Chloe’s words rang in her head. Who was the right man for her?
“It’s Logan,” she answered her question out loud. “Stick to your plan.”
Her heart sped up as she caught sight of Ryan giving her a short wave inside his BMW. He hopped out of the driver’s seat and flashed a crooked smile that easily doubled the speed of her beating heart.
Oh, boy. She was in trouble.
…
“Mornin’.” Ryan met Sarah behind his car and popped the trunk, taking her suitcase. The damn thing weighed a ton. “Did you pack your entire closet?”
She laughed. “Mainly heels and, okay, maybe half of my closet. I couldn’t decide what to wear tonight, so I packed a few options. I’ve never been to a gala.”
He set the suitcase next to his, pausing long enough to enjoy the sight of their things side by side, then gave himself a mental swat. The only reason Sarah had agreed to the trip was to learn more about Logan—information she planned to use to her advantage. Not only was she eager to learn more about their boss, she was probably doing cartwheels inside at the thought of going to Logan’s hometown.
Did she realize it was Ryan’s, too?
He took a deep breath before sliding back into the car. Maybe inviting her to the gala hadn’t been a good idea. What if Logan showed interest in her? His boss was just as much a red-blooded American male as the next guy. Logan could potentially see his assistant in a totally different light outside the office wearing a hot dress and laughing at all his corny jokes.
“Is that for me?” Sarah pointed to the iced mocha in the console next to the black coffee he’d gotten for himself.
“Yep. I picked up your usual.”
She picked up the coffee and took a sip. “Delicious. Thanks.”
He reached behind his seat, grabbing the plastic grocery bag he’d set on the floor. “And these are for you, too.” His sister had made some cinnamon rolls for the trip, serving him up a wicked smirk this morning when she’d handed him the container. “Bridget made them just for you,” he said, leaving out the part where his sister had all but guaranteed Sarah would want to jump him after one bite. She’d been wrong every other time, so he hadn’t gotten his hopes up.
Ryan pulled out onto the street, but Sarah seemed oblivious to anything but the cinnamon roll in her hands. Her first bite was accompanied by a moan that nearly had him driving off the road. “Oh my God, these are amazing. If your sister were a six-foot-one man, I’d marry her.”
One point to the Wright family. Too bad it went to the wrong sibling.
“Here, have one.” She grabbed another roll, placed it on a napkin, and handed it to him.
“Thank you.” He could easily imagine them spending their weekends like this, maybe taking off on a getaway up the coast, enjoying coffee and whatever pastries he could con Bridget into baking. The idea felt a little too close to a relationship, though, so he shook off the thought. “Thanks again for coming with me.”
“My pleasure. Thank you for giving me something to do this weekend. You’ve rescued me from another Saturday night of organizing all of my heels by color and then height.” She laughed. “Although, I did enjoy doing it last weekend. It saves me time when I’m getting ready in the morning if I don’t have to search for the shoes I want to wear.”
“Efficient. I like it.” He’d also like to witness her slipping into a skirt and sliding on her black stilettos as she dressed for work, but he’d keep that fantasy to himself. “Can I hire you to organize my closet?”
She clapped her hands. “Oh, please, let me. I would have so much fun organizing all your bright polos.”
“Hey.” He laughed. “I don’t have that many.”
“You have one in every color imaginable. The bright-turquoise polo you sported at last summer’s company picnic was a stunner.”
“My sister bought it for me,” he protested. “I love that shirt.”
“I’m not saying it doesn’t look good. It shows off your blue eyes.” She grinned. “All the girls in the office commented when I brought it up.”
He liked the thought of her talking about him. “Who did you talk about me to?”
“Oh, you know…Nancy and Hillary.”
“Did anyone under fifty notice?”
She laughed. “I did.”
“Mmm. I’ll be sure to keep that shirt, then.”
Her cheeks went pink and she looked away. Interesting…
She finished her cinnamon roll and reached for her coffee. “Anyway, are you ready to see your ex?”
Way to redirect the conversation. He shrugged. “Does anyone ever want to see an ex?”
“Probably not. How long has it been?”
“I haven’t seen or spoken to her since we broke up.”
“You never tried once to get in touch?”
“Nope.”
She gave him a dubious look.
“No. Seriously. That ship sailed a long time ago. Although, I admit it—it’ll be fun to have you on my arm and let the gossip spin. The people in Westbrook love to talk.”
“Oh, right. The mysterious redhead.” She pursed her lips and tossed her long hair. “I promise to be the perfect ‘are they or aren’t they’ foil.”
He laughed. “You packed a slinky black dress along with those heels, right?”
She nodded. “Yes. In fact, I’ve got two. Maybe you should choose which one I wear to be your hot friend from the office?”
The thought of her spinning around in front of him in a sexy black dress sent a signal to his lower region. That, and the image of peeling said dress off of her while running his mouth down her neck. What he wouldn’t give to get the chance.
Now wasn’t the time to get a hard-on, so he steered the conversation back to the topic of his ex. “Truth be told, Melanie did me a favor calling off the wedding. Jeff’s a better match. She likes money, and he makes a lot of it. He’s in finance, not to mention came to their marriage with a big trust fund like most of my former classmates.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “She also wouldn’t have been happy in a big city, and there was no way I was going to stay in Westbrook.”
“I can appreciate that. I felt the same way about Montana. I needed to experience a vibrant, urban surrounding, and there’s no place on earth like New York City to live and work.”
She opened the Tupperware container and took another cinnamon roll, pulling it apart and offering him half. “God, these are amazing. I’m so glad I didn’t whip up my special Saturday breakfast this morning. I’d have been too full and missed out.”
“What’s your special Saturday breakfast?”
She grinned. “Pancakes coated with peanut butter and drizzled with syrup.”
He scrunched his nose. “Peanut butter? Really?”
“Don’t knock it until you try it. I’ve been eating them that way for most of my life.” She bit into the cinnamon roll, and moaned again. “Bridget really should consider opening her own bakery.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her you said that.”
“I’ll be her first customer.” She took another bite. “So, tell me about Logan.”
He glanced over, his g
aze landing on her pretty lips that he was 100 percent sure were sugary sweet from the cinnamon roll. He’d love to pull off the road and kiss her to confirm it. He snapped his head straight, focusing on the Ford Escape in front of him. “Um…he’s… Okay, yeah. He’s a hoarder.” There. Totally true and should throw one insanely organized Sarah for a loop.
She blinked, the cinnamon roll halted halfway to her lips. “Seriously?”
“Yep, big time.” He grabbed his coffee cup and took a sip, bracing for her next few questions. After having lunch with her all year, he knew Sarah well enough to know she wouldn’t let that one go without explanation. Or anything that interested her.
It was one of the things he liked most about her.
“What does he hoard?” she asked, her voice full of skepticism.
“Electronics, books, magazines…you name it. His condo has pile after pile of stuff he’s refused to get rid of strewn all over the place. I bet he has socks older than you.” He glanced at her. “How old are you again?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“Yep. He definitely has socks older than you.”
Sarah bit her lip. “Well, there’s something to say about holding on to things…”
Ryan resisted a smile. Mission accomplished. His meticulously organized companion seemed to be struggling with that one. And why wouldn’t she? She’d spent last weekend organizing her heels, for God’s sake.
“So what else?” Sarah asked. “What does he do on the weekends?”
“Not as much as you’d think. Take this morning for instance.”
She brightened. “Is he playing racquet ball with Neil Patrick Harris and then driving up to the gala?”
Ryan scoffed. “Unlikely. He’s probably on the treadmill listening to some business podcast. When he’s done, he’ll probably grab coffee and get in a couple hours of work.”
“Wait. He’s flying back home from Florida today with his mom. I remember seeing that trip on his calendar.”
“Yeah, he’s helping her sell her beach house. But it doesn’t matter where he is. The guy never breaks his routine.”
“I like a guy who can appreciate a schedule.”
He rolled his eyes and spelled out, “B-o-r-i-n-g.”
She laughed. “Sounds like he needs someone to spice up his life. Maybe I could suggest he try something fun. Maybe he’d like to check out some amusement parks this spring. I love rollercoasters.”
“Really? I do, too,” Ryan said, then nearly kicked himself for sounding too eager. He cleared his throat and went for nonchalant. “I spent half my summers as a kid riding them, and still go whenever I get a chance.”
She twisted in her seat and gasped. “Oh my God. Have you been on the Green Lantern at Six Flags Great Adventure?”
“Have I been on it? They had to pry me off the front seat when it opened.”
“That drop is insane.”
He turned and smiled. “You’ve probably been on the Cyclone on Coney Island.”
She nodded. “It was one of the first things I did when I moved here. I love wooden rollercoasters.”
“Me, too.” He reached over and tapped her arm. “You’d love the Boulder Dash in Bristol. It’s wooden and moves through natural terrain. We should plan to check it out. Make a day of it.”
“I’d love that.”
Ryan settled into his seat, feeling warm inside.
“Oh, hey,” she said suddenly. “We should invite Logan. Maybe he’ll be more interested in doing something exciting if you’re there.”
Dammit. So much for progress. He shook his head and said what he should have instead of jumping on yet another similarity they shared. “No. The guy gets queasy on any ride that spins. Or goes fast, for that matter. Our high school had a carnival set up on the football field senior year, and he lost his lunch after riding the Tilt-a-Whirl.”
“Yikes.” Sarah frowned. “Well, maybe there are other rides he could handle.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he’d be fine on the Merry-Go-Round with all the other five-year-olds.”
She gave him a playful swat. “You’re bad. What else can you tell me?”
“He’s pretty set in his ways—oh, and if you start dating, you can forget those.” He pointed to the cinnamon roll container now on Sarah’s lap. “You may have seen him indulge every once in a while at the office, but at home, you’re not going to find anything with sugar in it. Want to split another roll?”
“Oh. Um, no.” Sarah closed the Tupperware container. “What about his Cocoa Puffs?”
Crap. He’d forgotten that he’d scribbled down Logan’s favorite cereal on the note he gave her. “His one vice. He’s been eating them ever since he was a kid.”
“Hmm. Well, I’ve always said I wanted to cut back on sugar. There’s no time like the present to start.” She reached for the grocery bag below her feet and placed the last of the cinnamon rolls in it.
“I don’t think you need to change your ways, but you do need to know what you’re getting yourself into with Logan. Pack rat, predictable, sugar-free…”
She reached over and poked him in the arm. “Coach Wright. I call foul.”
“Foul?” He scrunched his face. “For what?”
“You’re supposed to be helping me find stuff Logan and I have in common, but you’re not giving me anything useful. I don’t care that he holds on to things way past their prime, or that his go-to equipment at the gym is the treadmill. Give me some real stuff.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Something that means something to him. Tell me how you guys met. I want to hear how the infamous friendship between you two began. Everyone in the office knows you grew up together, but that’s it.”
“It’s hardly infamous. We met when we were six, and have pretty much been inseparable ever since.”
“Wow. Were you neighbors?”
That question caught him off guard. He’d never told anyone, especially not Sarah, about how he grew up, but it might come up this weekend. Would she judge him? He focused his attention on the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel. “You could say that. My mother was a maid for the Scotts. We lived in a small two-bedroom cottage on their mansion property.”
“Really?”
He glanced over, not surprised at all by the astonished look on her face. “Yep. My dad left when I was six. Decided he’d have enough of being a husband and father and hit the road. Left my mom broke with two kids and no family in the area.”
“Wow… I’m so sorry.”
Pity instead of disgust. He wasn’t sure which was worse. This was why he didn’t talk about it, but he was in too deep now. “We were better off without him,” he said firmly. “My mom met Mrs. Scott at the homeless shelter where we were staying. Mrs. Scott was volunteering there or something. She offered my mom a live-in housekeeping job. That’s how I met Logan.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not something I talk about.” He hadn’t meant the words to come out as sharp as they did, but there it was. He pressed his lips together. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay.” She fiddled with the lid of her coffee cup. “Is your mom still a maid for Mrs. Scott?”
“No. She retired three years ago. She actually lives in North Carolina now with my aunt Frankie.” He smiled at the thought of the two women together. “They’re like two peas in a pod and spend most of their time together getting into trouble. She’s enjoying retirement, though I could go for less late-night calls asking to bail them out of whatever mess they’ve gotten themselves into.”
She laughed. “Good for her. I’m sure being a maid was hard work, and she deserves to have fun.”
“It was, but she never showed it once to Bridget and me. She sacrificed a lot to take care of us and keep a roof over our heads.” He smirked. “It just happened to be on the grounds of a much nicer and much larger roof.”
“Did you and Logan play together?”
“All the time.” He had so man
y memories of Logan and him riding their bikes all over the grounds. “Logan never looked down on me and Bridget. Not once. Even when my sister and I showed up to play in our secondhand sweaters and faded jeans. He was kind to us. I respect him for that.”
When Ryan looked over at her, he expected to see more of that pity in Sarah’s eyes, but all he found was warmth and understanding. “I bet you and Bridget were good for him, too. Was it hard growing up in Westbrook without…” She paused.
“Money?”
“Yeah. I mean, from what I read on the internet, it’s a pretty affluent town.”
“It is, but you know, it didn’t really phase me at first—probably because I was only six when my mom took the job as their maid. She would bring us up to the main house, and Bridget and I would run around the kitchen, pretending like we lived there. We had dinner there almost every night, so in some ways it was home.”
That memory produced a genuine grin. It was in the Scott’s massive kitchen after school that Bridget learned to bake, while he sat on a barstool with his colored pencils, designing buildings on sketch paper.
“I think that sounds like a lot of fun,” Sarah said. “I’d love to pretend I lived in a mansion.” She chuckled. “Even now.”
“It was fun. Mr. Scott gave me my first pencil set and sketch pad for my seventh birthday. He’d invite me into his office where Logan and I would sit at a small conference table and draw for hours. It became our routine, even when we were in high school, to sketch with Mr. Scott.”
“No sports?”
“Not really. Sometimes Logan and I would throw a baseball around the backyard. In tenth grade, I got into football.”
“Did Logan play, too?” Sarah asked, her eyes widening.
He laughed, but nodded. “Yeah. He tried. He wasn’t very coordinated. Mr. Hotshot CEO spent most of his time on the bench, flirting with the cheerleading squad.”
“I can see that.” She returned his laugh, but then narrowed her eyes. “He doesn’t have an ex who I’ll be meeting along with yours, does he?”
“Nah. I mean, he dated a few girls throughout high school, but there isn’t anyone that he’s stayed in touch with—at least not to my knowledge.”