Page 35 of Resist

“Drinks?” Ryker asks with a lift of his eyebrows, irritated impatience in his voice despite the curiosity owning his eyes. So . . . he’s not going to out me? Is this really just a coincidence? “Another round perhaps? Or are you just going to stand there and stare all night?”

I ignore the chuckles of the women around us, whose only thoughts likely center around how I’m one less woman in their line of competition to bed him.

“Yes, of course. I didn’t want to interrupt your meeting. Sorry.” Clearing my throat, I take a step forward and offer a tight smile. “What can I get you, gentlemen?”

Each man places an order. A double scotch on the rocks for the dark-haired gentleman of Asian descent named Ken on Ryker’s right. An old-fashioned for Gene, the gray-haired gentleman on his left. And a gin and tonic for Ryker, even though I notice the one in front of him still sits barely touched.

Feeling like I’ve been dismissed, I lean forward to pick up their empties to give them more room on the table and notice the scribbles in red ink on what certainly looks to be legal documents.

“We’re celebrating,” Ken says.

“Is that so?” I ask with a soft smile. “What are we celebrating tonight, gentlemen?”

“How much of my money my wife isn’t going to get when this shark of a lawyer here is done with her.” He reaches his glass out and clinks it with Ryker’s still sitting on the table.

My immediate reaction is disgust, as my need to side with another woman when it comes to a man and relationships is inherent.

Don’t judge, Vaughn. You don’t know the whole story.

But I avoid looking toward Ryker. Instead I smile. “Sounds like a good enough reason. I’ll get fresh drinks out to you in a few minutes. My name is Vaughn . . .” My words drift off as I realize that my canned response to customers just became so much more personal tonight.

“Vaughn?” Ryker asks as my own thoughts stumble over one another.

I straighten my spine and keep the smile plastered. “Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

The minute I exit the doorway and am out of sight, I sag against the wall of the darkened hallway, lean my head back, and close my eyes.

Ryker is here. At my work. Holy shit.

Every part of me wants to bolt. Head down the stairs and walk out of this job—a job I have simply to prove that I’m a responsible adult—and never look back . . . because he’s too close. Way too close. And no matter how many ways I try to dice it, this spells disaster.

Huge freaking disaster.

“You okay, sweetie?” a woman asks as she walks by.

“Yes. Thanks,” I say softly, suddenly embarrassed that I’m acting this way when I don’t let men affect me like this. Ever.

But at the same time, this man in particular knows too much about me. He sees me too well. He makes me feel when I don’t feel.

I push away the crushing pressure in my chest. A reminder of the other things Ryker Lockhart has triggered in my life. The memories I can’t escape but can’t exactly remember.

Get to work, Vaughn. This isn’t a big deal. He isn’t a big deal.

But deep down I know it is. I know that there’s something about Ryker that affects me in ways no one has before.

I’m on autopilot, my mind reeling in ways I don’t want to comprehend, as I head to the bar, their drink requests on repeat as a way to calm my nerves. No sooner do I type their orders into the computer than the bartender, Ahmed, presses a kiss to my temple as he scoots around me to his perch behind the bar. “Hi, love. You doing okay?”

“That’s debatable.” I lean my hips against the counter and look his way. As always, he’s dressed sharply: dress shirt, tie, black slacks. The women who come here love him, and he has no problem charming the pants off them more often than not—literally.

“Nine Pod is asking for drinks,” he says as he shakes a martini canister.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m getting there.”

“Just letting you know.”

But I don’t move. My feet refuse to trudge back to my pods because all I keep thinking about is how to avoid going back to the Eight Pod where I have to face Ryker.

“You have to switch back with me,” I say to Melissa the minute she walks behind the bar to the computer.