Love Me Love Me Knot

by Deb Lee

  A sudden heat crept across Sophie’s cheeks.

  The blowhole! Did he know?

  “Your shoe is in my way,” Sophie said from behind gritted teeth. Would she be quarantined for killing a passenger?

  “Did you seriously fall out of a kayak into the ocean? I mean, no offense, but it’s seriously hard to fall out. It looks like you’re okay and all. But wow, that takes talent. I’m impressed!”

  “Move your foot.”

  “Ah, come on, Sophie.” Asher smirked. “It’s all in good fun.”

  “Well, have fun with this!” She pulled the door all the way open and slammed it against his foot.

  He cussed, yanking his foot free.

  Sophie stifled a laugh then gently shut the door, locking the latch with a resounding click.

  Chapter 18

  The cruise director had set the cocktail party in a cozy, jazz-inspired lounge. It served as the perfect location to stage a company dinner. Appetizers and drinks didn’t actually constitute as dinner, but the drinks were courtesy of Over the Top, Inc., so Ryan was sure the employees could care less if there was a three-course meal or not. Fried food and bottomless liquor would suffice.

  Dressed casually in a sports coat, button-down shirt, loosely done tie, and blue jeans, Ryan moved into the sports bar, which was adjacent to the lounge.

  “Rum and Coke,” he ordered from the bartender. He leaned against the back of the bar and scanned the room. Not that he was looking for Sophie, per se, but he was concerned.

  The bar tender slid him his drink and Ryan signed the slip. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  Several people in the bar section were cheering at the game. Three of the TVs broadcasted the championship game he was supposed to be covering right now. Ryan homed in on one. Game four was in full swing. Bottom of the fifth. Giants up by three. He wondered if his replacement, Johnson was on the field or in the locker room. He hated to miss this game. He hated more that Johnson was bootlegging his pennant interviews with rookie closing pitcher Doug Murphy. He’d have to settle for catching the highlights later when he updated his blog.

  Ryan downed his drink and ordered another. For the next forty-five minutes, he did his best to put on a smile and concentrate on the task at hand, which included vetting the current talent from Up Front. He scanned the room a few times making pleasantries along the way, but really, he was watching for her.

  “Hey, Ryan, there you are.” Lori from the gossip column approached. “Can I get you another drink?”

  After returning to the ship, Ryan had spent the later part of the afternoon on the Lido Deck getting to know some of the team. Lori and her coworker Terri seemed to hang on his every word, and had followed him around like a puppy. He had to literally spell out he was using the restroom when he excused himself so they wouldn’t follow him there too. It was no surprise that though they had a lot to talk about, very little of it had to do with the magazine. “No thanks,” Ryan declined.

  “So, Ryan.” Terri popped up from behind Lori. “I meant to ask you, what’s this we’ve heard about you transferring to our little neck of the woods?”

  Ryan held his poker face. “Not sure what you’ve heard, but that’s not the case.”

  “Are you sure?” Lori said, brushing a strand of red hair off her face. “Because, um, our sources say it’s true. And since you’ve never come to a retreat before, it looks a little suspicious.”

  Ryan flinched at her forwardness. He could smell alcohol on her breath and detected a bit of accusation in her tone. “What sources?”

  “Ah, so it is true?” she said with a flirty tone. “Sorry, I don’t kiss and tell my sources.”

  Ryan stepped back before he got a contact high from her breath. “Sorry, ladies, don’t mean to disappoint, but check your facts.”

  “Oh, come on, handsome.” Lori circled around and brushed invisible lint from his coat. “You can be honest with us. Did they really fire Red?”

  Fire Red? Ryan’s eyes stared at her hand resting on his shoulder until she moved it. “I’m sorry for any misunderstandings, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Come on, Ryan.” Terri batted her eyelashes. “We had a good time this afternoon getting to know each other. You can be honest. We just want you to know when you come on board with us, we’ll help you get adjusted.”

  Her expression implied the innuendo.

  Ryan cleared his throat and stepped back. “You’re right. It was nice chatting with you today, and I’m sure you have a lot more to offer the magazine, but I was asked to head the training and that’s it. Nothing more.”

  “Thelma, Louise.” Donovan swooped in and hung his arms over the girls’ shoulders. “Stop suffocating the poor guy.”

  “Oh, Donnie.” Lori grinned and kissed his cheek. “You know we like to be in the know.”

  “Well, I happen to know those two gentlemen are over there are crashing our party and vying for your attention.”

  Terri and Lori both craned their necks simultaneously as if they were trained Siamese cats.

  “Really?” Terri said.

  “Most definitely,” Donovan said, winking at Ryan. “I already checked them out. You should go say hi.”

  “We’ll see you around, Ryan.” Lori waved her fingers like a 1920’s flapper. “Do tell us if anything new surfaces.” She batted her lashes. “See ya.”

  “Well, Ryan, my friend.” Donovan turned to watch the girls shimmy across the room. Their matching sequined cocktail dresses sparkled against the dim, florescent lighting. “I see you got the full dose of our resident, uh, welcoming committee.”

  Ryan blew out a sigh of relief. “I guess so.” Usher blared from the speakers, but Ryan could still hear the sports announcer in the bar section behind him. He veered his attention in that direction. Top of the seventh. Tied score. His insides churned at the thought of what he was missing. Ryan threw his drink back, expecting to take a huge gulp only to realize his glass was empty.

  Donovan slapped Ryan’s back. “What are you drinking, my man?”

  “Rum and Coke.”

  They moved into the bar. Donovan raised his free hand to beckon the bartender. “Rum and Coke for the gentleman please. I’ll have a piña colada on the rocks.”

  Donovan’s slick bowtie and oversized fuchsia eyeglasses fit the man’s smooth appearance. His position with Over the Top, Inc., was more than secure. According to the file Phil sent over, he pulled in over twenty-five percent of the readership on his own. In fact, they may have to offer him a bonus to keep him if the merge was executed. Ryan would be lucky if Donovan chose to sign on with Jazz.

  And Ryan flat out liked the guy. “Are you enjoying the cruise?” he asked as they both took a seat at the bar.

  “I could ask you that very same question.” Donovan sipped on his fruity cocktail-concoction, heavy on the coconut with a huge umbrella. “I was on the Lido Deck today observing while you spoke to some of our team.”

  So, Donovan was analyzing him while he was vetting the group? Yep, Ryan knew he liked the guy. “Why didn’t you join us? You could have added input on the analysis.”

  “Well, you are the guest of honor and since you were rather elusive at the office last week, I figured I’d let the others talk to you while I hung back and waited for an opportunity to meet with you. So, to what do we owe your company visit? The rumor mill is hinting at a promotion, but I’d rather hear any such news from the source.”

  Promotion? “I hate to burst any bubbles, but I really am here for industry training.” Ryan absently turned his new glass in circles. It was the truth. Not the whole truth, but semi-truthful anyway. “How are things in the fashion world?”

  Donovan eyed him for a moment before answering with a genial smile. “Fabulous as always
.” Donovan flicked his hair off his shoulder and adjusted his glasses. “I scored a spot on the Red Carpet for the Red Glam awards and an interview with the six-foot-two Russian twins who have taken the modeling world by storm.”

  “The twins, huh?”

  Donovan nodded. “Indeed.” He jutted his chin toward one of the televisions on the wall not broadcasting the game. It showed football highlights from years past. “How are things in the wild, wild world of sports and athletes? Better yet, tell me what’s up with all the uniform design changes with the NFL?” Donovan rolled his eyes as if the monochrome jerseys offended the fashion world.

  Ryan smiled, swirling the liquid around his glass. “I don’t know but they are different.”

  Donovan offered a canned laugh.

  Ryan scanned the jazz room again. “So tell me about your job at Up Front—”

  And there she was. Across the room, wearing a floral sundress under a light sweater, her hair pulled to one side. She walked across the room like a woman on a mission and sat at a corner booth just below a life-sized framed picture of Dizzy Gillespie. Alone.

  Donovan’s fingers snapped in front of his face.

  Ryan flinched. “Did you just snap at me?”

  “Did you hear a word I just said?”

  Touché. “Sorry, I got sidetracked.”

  Donovan turned to see what—or who, rather—he was looking at. “Ah, I pegged that one on your first day.”

  Ryan cocked an eyebrow. “You did what?”

  “You best just leave that little hummingbird alone while her heart heals.”

  “I wasn’t looking at anything.”

  “Sure, and I just happened to have been born yesterday. Gay and Jewish, if you can believe that, so I’m intuitive and honest. I read faces and emotions like I read the front page of a newspaper.”

  Ryan cocked his other brow and took another pull of his drink. This time he drank a little longer just to watch her again.

  “That little girl was done fifty shades of wrong, if you know what I mean.”

  “Not exactly.” Ryan straightened. Who better to fill him in with whatever that story was than one of Sophie’s best friends?

  “Oh, brother, sit back and listen. You may need another drink for this one.”

  “No, I’m fine. Three’s my limit when I’m working.” Though tonight may call for more.

  “Oh.” Donovan let out a deep, flirty grin. “A man who knows his hard limits. I like that.”

  Ryan frowned. “You were saying?”

  “It was a pretty nasty thing for Asher to do. Almost the entire office saw it at our soirée. Which I coordinated.” He, straightened his bowtie. “Sophie wasn’t planning on attending, as she was tied up at the café. But then she did show up. Just in time to see Asher openly kissed our own little Trixie-Done-Her-Wrong-Bell.” Donovan clucked his tongue mid-sentence. “I don’t know what angered me more. That Asher did that right then, or after all the work I put into making that party top notch. We had a nothing budget, but I worked my magic and it was flawless, right down to the tiny Golden Gate Bridges as the centerpiece for each table. All the effort I had in the place settings—”

  “You’re getting off track.” Ryan’s gaze darted to Sophie, who seemed to be staring at nothing, but concentrating hard.

  “Anyway, she was seriously caught off guard and walked right up to Trixie. You could hear a mouse peeing on a cotton ball, it was so quiet in there.”

  “And?”

  “And she snapped. Oh, the poor butterfly.”

  “Snapped?”

  “Tell me you’re the one percent who hasn’t seen the YouTube video?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, well, let me fill you in. Sophie walked right up to Trixie, grabbed her by the hair, and the two of them dropped to the floor, flopping around like delicate angelfish out of water. Sophie, that is. Trixie was more like a piranha or a cougar fish.”

  “That sounds . . .” Ryan searched for the word. “Dauntless. Bold, maybe.”

  Donovan pressed his straw to his mouth and gave Ryan a wry look. “Well, Ryan, we can hardly blame her after what happened in college. Perhaps she had a bout of PTSD.”

  Ryan cringed. Of course Donovan would know about their college days. At least her side of it. “Where’s Trixie Bell now? I was under the impression this was a mandatory event.”

  “From what I hear she’s on assignment shooting rare pictures of some endangered wolf in the foothills or something.” Donovan paused and sipped his umbrella straw. “Mmm, that’s the best rum I’ve ever had! Anyway, Sophie didn’t even shed a tear. She just moved on, and did what she does. She’s a fighter, that one. So”—Donovan’s head tilted—“when I say leave that little butterfly to heal, I mean it. I don’t want to question your intentions, but she’s fighting a bigger battle than you and I. Especially with that café. And I won’t have you causing any undue pain.”

  Ryan sipped his drink, his focus fixed on Sophie.

  “All I’m saying is she doesn’t need any more boys complicating her life. Not with what’s going down with her café and all.”

  That piqued Ryan’s attention. Aside from the rent hike and wanting to sock Asher in the gut right now, he was curious. “I’m a little foggy on the details. It’s just the company outreach, right?”

  “Don’t you say that to Sophie. Not if you want to live another day. She lives and breathes for that place. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love those girls like my very own nieces, but Sophie would jump in front of a bullet for them.” Donovan looked at Ryan skeptically. “You’ve never heard the story how the café was born?”

  “Can’t say I have.”

  “The idea for the café fell into Sophie’s lap, really. Or rather, Amy fell into her lap four years ago at the office when she caught Sophie with her ass in the air, deliberately puking her tuna on rye.”

  “Really? She was vomiting on purpose?”

  “She was. Amy called her on it.”

  A knot in Ryan’s chest made him uneasy. He knew she had body image issues, and that ten years later she’d dropped a few dress sizes, but Sophie was bulimic? Was she still bulimic? He replayed the day in his head and couldn’t help but think how sullen she was when he put her in the cab. Was she still vulnerable?

  “Amy took Sophie to a recovery group for bulimia.”

  Donovan stirred his drink and continued. “Imagine a group of nine ladies, all in their late forties, exploring why they felt the need to regurgitate all their stomach contents.”

  “I’d rather not. But I’m not following,” Ryan muttered, his level of discomfort peaking at DEFCON three.

  “They weren’t teen friendly. I mean, discussing Mother Nature’s natural, southward progression on their once youthful bodies is not teen appropriate.”

  “Teen girls needed a place to go,” Ryan affirmed what Donovan was alluding to.

  Donavan nodded. “And that’s when Sophie came up with the idea to run the company’s community project for bulimic girls. She started a crafting club and it morphed into a café that focused on healthy choices. But really it’s about the camaraderie.”

  Ryan narrowed his eyes. No wonder Sophie’s fixation on the café trumped everything, even her job.

  Donovan placed his drink on the napkin in front of him. “I like you. I think you’re good people. And you could be good for her. But for now, you may want to steer clear. However, if being with her is what you truly want”—Donovan gestured toward the TV where the announcer was screaming over a double play—“then you better treat her right. And if you will, you have my blessing.”

  Donovan stood, dropping his gaze at a guy at the end of the bar who was eyeing him. “I, on the other hand, have nothing to lose, and us talking right now is giving off the wrong impression to my futur
e evening plans. I will catch you later.”

  Ryan nodded. Then he looked over at Sophie. The call today was from someone at the café. No wonder she’d lost it over some food poisoning. Had that been an emergency, she would have had every right to want to leave. Ryan felt for her. The pressure to keep it all together while running a pretty significant outreach, which was likely on the chopping block, would keep anyone on edge.

  Ryan frowned. He really should heed Donovan’s advice. But he couldn’t. He was drawn to her. He closed his eyes. What would it matter in a few days? When he was back in San Antonio, and she was, well, what were her plans? Only one way to find out.

  He retrieved his phone and checked his app’s live-streaming of the game. Bottom of the ninth. Tied game. Bases loaded. He could count on one hand how many times he’d seen a walk-off home run in a championship game.

  This would not be one of those times. He’d have to chime in at some point, but not now. He also needed to touch base with Phil again and prepare his notes for tomorrow. That could wait as well. He clicked his phone off and shoved it into his pocket. Johnson could cover this one.

  As Ryan approached Sophie, she scanned the room before slipping a set of salt and pepper shakers in her purse.

  Odd. He ran a hand through his hair and straightened his sports coat. As if on cue, Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World” hummed through the speakers.

  Ryan gently tapped her shoulder. “Care to dance?”

  Chapter 19

  The touch on her shoulder startled Sophie. When she glanced up, Ryan’s gorgeous eyes stared back at her. That crooked smile was growing on her.

  Even still, her mind remained clouded. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” First of all, she didn’t trust her emotions around him. Second, she still needed to gather a few items on her scavenger hunt list before it was time to turn in today’s loot. Third, why was Ryan asking her to dance anyway?