She meets my eyes. “Not in my daily life,” she says, and I hear a distinction. Perhaps she likes it at nighttime.Maybe.“So I’m just struggling.”
Before I can think the better of it, I say, “That makes two of us.”
Her brow knits, like she’s replaying the words I just said, till she finds the meaning—it’s a struggle for me to work with you when I want you.But maybe that’s expecting her to read too much into something.
With a heavy sigh, she says, “I just feel I need to take care of everyone and everything. The farm, my employees, Grandma, my sister, and her dreams… I want to be able to still do that while you’re…”
“By your side every day?”
“More like every second,” she says.
“I don’t want to get in the way. And I noticed you like that—taking care of everything,” I say, but I do wonder…who takes care of her?
“I do,” she says with a crisp nod, then takes a long swallow of her coffee. “I like to.” There’s a pause. “Maybe I need to. And I want the freedom to keep doing that.”
“I hear you. I want you to have that freedom too, but I also want you to understand that your life is going to be a little more complicated for the next few weeks,” I say, leaning forward. “Your photo did show up this morning.”
Nerves flash in her eyes. “It did?”
I take my phone from my pocket to show her. There’s the shot of her on the street, and a caption that says, “Haven Addison’s in town early just like Chris Carlisle. Is there a secret meet-up in the script in Darling Springs? We’ll make sure you’re the first to know.”
Ripley winces. Then shudders. “That’s…kind of gross. They don’t care if they took my pic or Haven’s.”
“Exactly. They just wanted the clicks. They’ll get in your facefor them. Possibly they’ll figure out you’re Ripley and your sister’s Haven, but from a distance, when they’re chasing that supposed first-kiss shot of Carlisle and his alleged new girlfriend, they won’t care. They’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”
Her gaze is serious as she nods in understanding. “I get it.”
“But I heard you yesterday. You want to run your business and go about your life as best you can,” I add, speaking with total sincerity. She asked me to give her space, but we were both still worked up during that conversation. I want her to know I listened to her then, and I’m definitely listening to her now. And I want to prove myself to her. “Let me show you today that you can still do that with me around.”
She lifts a doubtful brow. “Yeah?”
“Yes. I promise.”
“Okay then.” She extends a hand across the table to shake. I take it, and when I let go, she reaches a hand behind her neck and rubs. “My neck is both stiffer and looser at the same time. How is that possible after yoga?”
“Yoga makes us move our bodies in different ways than we’re used to,” I say, then try to focus on the positive. “You seemed like you enjoyed the end of the class though?”
“Yes. Can I just do the slowing down part?” she asks with a spark in her voice, and there’s that flirty, fun side from the night I met her. “I’d like to go to a class where someone tells me to lie down on a mat, and close my eyes, and then bam, I’m asleep.”
That sounds awful to me, but I do like that she’s talking to me rather than running from me. “So basically, nap time?”
“Yes. I would like a nap class.”
“Do they have those, too, at the community center? Pole dancing and nap classes?”
“A girl can dream,” she says.
I shudder.
She points at me like she’s caught me on a technicality. “Ah, so you don’t like pole dancing.”
“Actually, you have me there. I probably suck at pole dancing. Never done it before, but I’m pretty sure I cannotrock a pole,” I say.
She thrusts her arms in the air. “And he is human after all.” After she takes a victorious sip of her coffee, her brow furrows, like she’s clearly rewinding something in her head. “Wait. You shuddered when I mentioned naps and pole dancing, but you never did pole dancing. Banks,” she says, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, “do you hate naps?”
“With a deep and ferocious passion.”
She looks at me like I’m nuts. “Who are you? A robot? Wait. I might believe that.”
