“I like you, Evie,” I say, and even as the wrong words come out, I urge myself forward.Just say it.
“I like you too,” she says, slipping off the counter and pressing a kiss to my cheek. She runs her thumb along my jaw, staring right up into my eyes, andthis is the time, Ryder. Spit it out!
“You look good in your little work suits,” she says, her eyes dipping momentarily. I see the playfulness in her eyes and want to match her, but more than that, I just want to solidify this thing we have. To stop obsessing and wondering what she’s thinking and justhaveher.
“You look like my favorite shade of midnight.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Well, okay. Show up my compliment, why don’t you?”
“You do. You are. This dress. You in it, you out of it. The middle of the night when I wake up and you stir and you just kind of curl into me. After the sun sets and you power down like a robot with your book and eventually I have to come in and switch the light on for you and you crinkle your nose because your eyes were adjusted to the darkness but there’sno waythat was comfortable. When you were sick and I could tell you were struggling but didn’t want to wake me and as soon as I fed you medicine you just kind of crumpled back into bed and let me hold you. This midnight, eating pizza in your fancy dress after you schmoozed every corporate guy I’ve ever met into donating to the sunflower preserve.”
She stares at me, her eyes wide and beautiful.
“Ryder,” she says, her voice soft.
Say it, you pansy.
I test out the words in my head. Imagine how they’d feel on my tongue. But as soon as I try to imagine her expression, hearing them for the first time, I see her face falling in my mind. Her gentle reminder that we haven’t known each other all that long.
Before I can force the words out, she kisses me, one hand on my chest. My hand falls to her hip, tugging her in close because if I can’t get the goddamn words out, I can at least hug her. Squeeze her. Pretend like holding her physically close is good enough.
When I wakeup with her head on my shoulder the next day, it pains me to drag myself out of bed and into work. She never made it back into her clothes, and having to tuck the sheets in around her while she eyes me sleepily is a sort of torture I wouldn’t wish on anyone. When I’m dressed and come in to give her a quick kiss before I leave, she sits up, holding the sheets haphazardly over her naked body as we say goodbye.
I briefly consider extending our trip so I can skip my meetings this morning.
But more than anything, I want to be back in Sunflower Hill, puttering around on the farm with her and tossing around idea after idea for the property next door that will inevitably be turned down by either her or Reed.
And maybe that’s exactly the sort of limbo I want. As long as no plan gets approved, this glorious thing that Eveand I started never has to end. I’ll be close enough that I can take my grandmother to the park—even though it pisses me off that she can’t just get there whenever she wants—and I can spend the rest of my time with Evie.
When I get into the office, Sana is waiting for me, a fresh cup of coffee on my desk.
“Good morning, Sana.”
She gives me a quick grin. “From now on I’m only answering to Chief Operating Officer Sana Basu.”
I snort. “Good morning, Chief Operating Officer Sana Basu.”
“Good morning.” She drops a manilla folder on my desk. “The information you asked for.”
That I had almost completely forgotten about. “Reed?”
“And his shill company.”
I blink, opening the folder. “His what?”
She takes a sip of her coffee. “I don’t know anything for sure, but once I gathered everything I could find on Reed, his family, and his work as mayor, there does seem to be some sort ofpicturethere. I talked to a woman named Margie, who didn’t want to give meanythinguntil I mentioned I was asking on behalf of Eve Harper—so you’re going to want to let her know I used her name—but she begrudgingly let me know that it’s not that Reedusuallyapproves historic restoration from one company. It’s that heonlyapproves historic restoration from one company.”
“So the guy’s in his pocket?”
She shrugs. “You could say that. I couldn’t find anything that connects the two of them. But Ididfind a lumber company started by his ex-wife’s brother. I don’t know for sure, but if I had to guess, I’d say Reed is a lot more involved in that company than anyone knows, and the materialsbeing used for all those historic renovations are coming straight from him.”
I lean back in my chair. “So Reed is bullying townspeople into getting their property designated historical, refusing funding to help them, and then only approving one guy who happens to source his materials from Reed, sending that money directly into his pocket.”
Sana nods noncommittally. “Again, I have no solid proof. I called the restoration company and they wouldn’t tell me where they source from despite coming up with a pretty intricate backstory about inheriting my childhood home and wanting to fully restore it to its original glory. Like, if some rando called me up with the story I spit out, I would have taken that job without question and I don’t know the first thing about restoration.”
“Well, we already knew he was a bit of an asshole so that’s not new information.”
She cocks her head to the side. “You’re welcome for the incredible amount of time and work I put into getting these answers for you.”
