“And my family loves you.”
My heart skips a beat.
Ryan nuzzles my nose. “So what areyourdreams, my beautiful Argentinian whale?”
“You didnotjust call me awhale.”
He laughs. “It’s a reference toMoby Dick.I’m Captain Ahab and you’re my whale. Never mind. Sorry. I’ll never do it again. Tell me about your dreams, sweetheart.”
I press my soft breasts into his hard chest and sigh contentedly. “I don’t know, to be honest,” I say. “Lately, I’ve been thinking I might like to spread my wings a little bit. Now that Josh and Jonas have launched Climb & Conquer and they’re planning to expand aggressively, I was kind of thinking I’d maybe ask them for an official role in their new organization—you know, to help them grow it? I’m genuinely inspired by their mission statement. Did you know they donate to a whole bunch of charities as part of their business model?”
“Yeah, I know—I went to their grand opening party in Seattle and heard Jonas’ speech.”
I snicker. “I was at that party.”
“No way!”
“Yep. I saw you there—from the back. I saw the back of your head and I thought, ‘Wow, the back of that guy’s head reminds me of Ryan from The Pine Box!’”
“Oh my fucking God!”
“When the speeches were over, I did a little loop around the place, looking for the guy—just out of curiosity, you know—but he was nowhere to be found. I guess you’d left by then.”
Ryan looks thoughtful for a long moment. “Do you remember what song was playing when you looked around for me?”
“I sure do. My favorite: ‘Bailando.’”
Ryan shakes his head and chuckles. “Oh my God.”
“What?”
He rubs his face. “Nothing. It’s just funny we were in the same room and never ran into each other. So back to this idea of yours—spreading your wings. Does that mean you wanna stop being Josh’s personal assistant?”
“Ooph. Just hearing you say that out loud makes my stomach hurt. Ilovebeing Josh’s personal assistant. But, if I’m being totally honest, a part of me feels like I’ve been slowly outgrowing the job. And now that he’s marrying Kat... I dunno. I just feel like it’s maybe time for me to... I just don’t know.”
“You ever thought about starting your own business?” Ryan asks.
“I’ve thought about it. I’ve been saving well over half my income every year for the past six years, in case I maybe wanna start something one day—but then I just never know what that ‘something’ would be.”
“You’ve saved overhalfyour income for six years? Damn. You either make a shit-ton of money or you live like a mouse.”
“Both,” I reply. “I work my ass off for Josh, don’t get me wrong, but, even so, he vastly over-pays me. I make probably thirty percent more than any other high-end personal assistant. The irony, of course, is that I don’t give a shit about money and never have, other than when it comes to feeding my shoe addiction.”
“So why does Josh pay you so much?”
“Because I gouge him mercilessly once a year for a massive raise.”
Ryan laughs. “But why? You just said you don’t care about money.”
“I don’t. Not at all. I gouge Josh for one simple reason: job security.” I stroke Ryan’s hair as I speak and he closes his eyes at my touch. “It didn’t take long for me to realize this simple truth: when your boss has a closet full of two-thousand-dollar shoes and custom-made suits and a garage filled with vintage sports cars and he’s never flown coach in his entire life, the man probably values things more when he pays exorbitantly for them. Hence, early on, the minute he hired me full-time, I started making him pay through the nose for my services, and it seemed like he continuously valued me more and more, so I just kept doing it. At some point, it got ridiculous, but I just figured, ‘Why fix it if it ain’t broke?’”
“You’re a fucking genius, T-Rod,” Ryan says, laughing.
“Oh, surely, Josh has figured me out by now, but he’s just playing along.”
Ryan flashes me a smile that warms my entire body. “I love the way your mind works,” he says softly. “You’re smart. Scrappy. Pragmatic. You see the finish line and you get there. I really love that about you.”
My heart soars. I wrap my arms around him and kiss him, stifling my sudden urge to blurt something completely insane to him in reply—something only someone in a committed relationship would ever say—and, luckily, our kiss soon becomes heated, and, before I know it, we’re in the throes of heated sex, yet again, an activity that makes me forget, at least temporarily, every single one of the ridiculous, fairytale-inspired thoughts threatening to fill my silly head.
