Ryker frowned. “Wait a minute. You have a degree and you’re just—” He caught himself and stopped.
“I’m just a secretary, right?” I finished for him. I shrugged. “I had a hard time finding a job when I got out of school and didn’t want to leave the area. There was a job opening, I needed to pay the bills, so I took it. Turns out I like doing what I do, so I stayed.”
“What’s your degree in?”
“Art History.”
Ryker snorted a laugh just as Christy dropped off our drinks.
“What are you having tonight?” she asked, taking a pad and pen from the apron tied around her waist.
I glanced down at my menu again. “Um, I’ll have the house salad with chicken and the low-fat Italian dressing on the side, please,” I said. Christy wrote that down and turned expectantly to Ryker. “Wait,” I said, and she turned back to me. “Are your tomatoes room temperature or refrigerated?”
She blinked once. “Um, I don’t know. Room temperature, I guess?”
“Oh. Well, that’s all right then. If it comes with croutons, could you leave those off, please? And no onions.” Definitely didn’t want garlic and onion breath tonight.
Christy wrote that down, too, repeating to herself, “No onions…”
I handed her my menu and glanced at Ryker, who was silently observing me again.
“What?” I asked, but he just shook his head.
“You want your usual, Ryker?” Christy asked.
“Yeah, thanks.” He handed her his menu and she left.
“So what does an Art History major do, exactly?” he asked. “I can’t imagine you got that degree just for kicks.”
“No, I didn’t. Ideally, I’d love to work in an art museum, which is why I like Chicago.” And because it was near home. “But it’s really hard to get a job like that. Openings don’t come up very often.”
Ryker considered this. “So a wannabe museum curator, but instead you’re the executive administrative assistant to the great and powerful Parker Anderson.”
“It’s a living,” I said, taking a tentative sip of my wine. It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t great either, but it wasn’t bad. “What about you? Why were you at the office today? Did something happen?” I’d been worrying in the back of my mind all day and knew I’d rest a lot easier if I had some idea of what Ryker and Parker had talked about.
“Just a case I’m working on,” Ryker said. “I thought maybe Parker might be able to…shed some light on it.”
I noticed his entire demeanor changed when he spoke of Parker. His body grew tense and his jaw tightened, the lines of humor around his mouth and eyes fading.
“So you two know each other,” I prompted when he didn’t say anything more.
Ryker’s smile was tight and didn’t touch his eyes. “You could say that.”
I was going to ask more questions, but he spoke again. “Since you’re here with me, I’m assuming you’re not seeing anyone.”
Okay, I confess, my heart sped up a little at that. I felt like I was in high school again. Was the hot, popular guy in the cool crowd interested in me? I fought to keep my voice nonchalant when I replied. “No. Not at the moment. You?”
Ryker leaned forward, folding his arms on the table. “I wasn’t, but I think I am now.”
His eyes were fringed in dark lashes, the blue more intense with him this close, and for a moment I forgot how to breathe. Then I processed his words.
Had he just said what I thought he said? My eyes widened as a grin spread slowly on Ryker’s face. My inner cynic was scoffing at how well he’d delivered that line, but my inner princess was preening at the compliment.
“Here you go,” Christy said, setting two plates on the table and interrupting the moment.
I sucked in a breath, my lungs reminding me that air is generally required. I barely noticed my food as I automatically picked up my fork and took a bite of salad.
It turned out Ryker’s “usual” was a double bacon cheeseburger with a side of fries. It smelled divine and I eyed the fries while I chewed a slice of cold cucumber.
“So tell me where you’re from, Sage,” Ryker said. “The life story. The works.”
I liked hearing him say my name. “My life story won’t get us to dessert,” I replied dryly. Ryker laughed, which made me smile, too. “It sounds like your life would be way more interesting,” I said. “How long have you been a cop?”