It took me forever to get ready and out the door this morning. After my conversation with Rowan last night I spent hours going over it in my head. It wasn’t a particularly long conversation, but somehow still had my head spinning. I only slept a few hours between Rhett’s nightmares and my need to over analyze the entire call. After dragging a very grumpy Rhett out of bed, getting him dressed, teeth brushed, and hair combed. I was able to drop him off and get to work just on time.
Finding an outfit that’s work appropriate and ‘having lunch with the man that can singe the edges of the earth purely with the heat his eyes hold’ appropriate is not as easy as one would think. Just like I told Rowan yesterday, I don’t have time for anything besides lunch today. I can’t afford to make a misstepand end up in the same situation as we were in six months ago. After much internal debate I settled on a simple black dress. It’s slimming, stops right above my knees, and the neckline is modest enough for work but still shows just a hint of cleavage. Just to be on the safe side I’ve thrown a cream cardigan over it for work, but fully intend to remove that before going into the break room to eat with Rowan.
The day drags by, partially because I’m anxious about lunch, but mostly because Kellum O’Brien is the most unorganized man to work for. He’s anti-schedule, but has no option but to keep himself on a schedule here. My head’s buried in sorting out Mr. O’Brien’s appointments for the week when I faintly register the elevator ding. I’m so engrossed in what I’m doing I don’t even check up. They can wait until I’m done with this email to some big client he’s trying to land.
Whoever walked through the elevator has made their way to my desk, I can feel them watching me. It’s usually an unsettling feeling but right now, all I feel is a warm sense of safety. Safety? That pulls me out of my thoughts as my eyes dart up to see who’s standing there, colliding with the most mesmerizing green eyes. Straightening in my chair, because of course I was leaning over my desk in the most unladylike way.
Rowan looks impeccable in his navy suit with a light blue button up shirt underneath. His hair looks perfectly messy. Like he wants to give the illusion of casualness, but actually spent time making sure every piece was where he wanted it. His smile is bright and amusement shines in his eyes, “Pretty Girl.”
My cheeks heat at having all his attention on me, “Mr. Byrne. It’s nice to see you today.”
He’s biting back a smile as he replies, “You as well, Ms.Sanders. I brought sandwiches from Gloria’s down the street. Would you like to join me for lunch?”
Biting my bottom lip to keep my face impassive, I press send on the email, and lock my computer, “Sure, does the break room work for you? Unfortunately it’s either that or my desk.”
“Either is fine, you call the shots.”
He seems so sure of himself. I’m so nervous my hands are sweating and he looks as cool as a cucumber. Get it together, Clara. Standing up and moving around my desk I lead him into the break room. It’s empty, that’s weird. Normally people are mulling around. Shaking the thought out of my head we move to the back corner table. It’s my favorite, especially when I’m reading. It gives enough privacy that people leave me alone, but not enough so people think I’m a bitch who’s unsocial.
Rowan sets down the take out containers before moving behind me and pulling the chair out. Realizing I chose the seat he wanted, I quickly move to the seat across from it. My instincts have me looking down at the ground. I’m keenly aware of him moving towards me and without the continuous decision to, I flinch back from him.
“Clara.” That’s it, just my name, but his voice sounds soft, and disarming, it causes me to look up at him. I can see the questions swirling in his eyes, every bit of me sending prayers into the universe that he doesn’t ask.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you wanted to sit there. I just moved out of your way.”
Confusion takes over his facial expression, “I didn’t, I was pulling your chair out for you.”
My cheeks heat with embarrassment, “Oh. Oh! I’m so sorry. I must have misread the situation.Um, Thank you.”
Rowan uses his hand to cup the side of my face, his thumb gently caressing my cheek. “You don’t have to thank me, Pretty Girl. Come on, let’s have lunch. Our time is limited.”
This time I sit in the chair he’s pulled out for me while watching him sit directly beside me in the chair that backs up to the wall. His eyes flint across the room twice before bringing his attention back to me. An easy smile taking over his face, “So, Clara. Tell me about yourself.”
Unable to help it I smirk at him. “You mean besides what you know from me spilling my life story while your friend pointed a gun at me.”
Rowan lets out a low chuckle, “Yeah, besides that. You said you have a son? Tell me about him.”
We spend the next thirty or so minutes talking about Rhett, and Rowan’s brothers. I didn’t ask him, but he seems almost like a father figure to them. Or at the very least that he takes on that roll beside his dad. We didn’t have time to dive into anything revolutionary, but he’s kind, and easy to talk to. The love for the people closest to him shines through along with pride as he speaks about them. The alarm on my phone goes off indicating that our time is up.
“Well, that was the fastest thirty minutes I’ve ever experienced.” Rowan’s staring intensely at me. I’ve noticed him doing that in the few interactions we’ve had together. Like I’m a puzzle for him to work out.
“Thank you for having lunch with me, Pretty Girl. I think this was the best first date I’ve been on.”
I cut my eyes at him, “This was not a date, Mr. Byrne. This was two acquaintances having lunch together.”
Rowan’s hands shoot up in a placating manner, “Not a date, got it. I enjoyed it all the same. Can we do it again?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Rowan. I’ve got so much going on, I can’t possibly fit anything else in it. I’m sorry.”
Rowan takes a second, thinking it over. “Okay, I understand. But, Clara if you ever change your mind, or need anything, and I do mean anything at all. I want you to use my number. Text me, call me, hell, face time me. I’ll answer. I know you said you’re alone here, but you don’t have to be. Just make sure you keep it and use it at your own discretion. Okay?”
Relenting, even though I know I won’t dare use it, “Okay, if I need something, I’ll use it.”
He smiles at me while he cleans up our trash. After he’s done he helps me out of my chair and escorts me back to my desk. Before I can turn to make my way back to my desk, Rowan ever so gently takes my face in his big hands and presses a kiss to the center of my forehead. I allow myself to close my eyes and soak in the warmth that is Rowan Byrne for just a second before pulling away.
“Goodbye, Rowan.”
“Have a good evening, Pretty Girl.”
