later than this most Fridays.”
“Why?”
Ryder frowned. “Why what?”
“Why do you work such long hours? You don’t have to. I know you’ve got plenty of people working for you who would take on more duties if you’d let them.”
“I like to work,” Ryder said, but given the way he didn’t quite look her in the eye, she realized he was lying.
Darcy rested her head back against the wall as she considered that. She’d met Ryder shortly after his wife died, and the first word that popped into her mind whenever she considered how to describe Ryder—after sex-on-a-stick—was workaholic.
Ryder picked up the bottle of vodka and took another drink before offering it to her. She smiled her thanks and drank. Maybe if she was lucky, the alcohol would work its way through her system and help her find a way to relax. As it was, she was very close to having a full-blown panic attack, complete with hyperventilating.
It was bad enough Ryder didn’t see her as anything more than Yvonne’s younger cousin, the babysitter. The last thing she wanted to do was make an ass of herself by coming completely unhinged in the elevator.
She’d like to capture his attention. But not that way.
As it was, this was the longest the two of them had ever been alone together, if she didn’t count the night he’d come home drunk. Which she didn’t, because it had been obvious the next time she’d seen him that he didn’t remember that conversation at all.
No, their “alone time” was the few minutes when he got home from work when she was watching the boys, and they’d say a couple awkward words, he’d pay her, and she’d drive home.
After putting the boys to bed, she’d always wait with anticipation, hoping Ryder would get home before Leo, then feeling like shit the whole way home, hating that she was so young…and invisible…to the only man who’d ever made her heart race.
“Maybe,” she started, trying to figure out some way to distract herself from the fact the walls appeared to be closing in on them. “Maybe we could play a game or something.”
Ryder glanced at her. “Like twenty questions?”
She shrugged. “I hate twenty questions. Spin the bottle?” she joked. Well, half-joked. She’d dreamed of kissing Ryder so many times, there was a part of her that now believed they actually had.
God. Pathetic much, Darcy?
“Not much suspense in that. Besides, I’d hate to spill any of the vodka. It sounds like we’re going to be in here for a while.”
She wished he wouldn’t remind her about that. “I’d suggest Truth or Dare, but there aren’t a lot of dare options.”
“Not appropriate ones.”
Darcy quietly drew in a surprised—okay, aroused—breath as she looked in his direction, letting her mind fill in all the inappropriate—alright, kinky—dares she’d like to try with him.
Ryder, as always, was clueless to her reaction. Instead, he glanced at his phone. She suspected if she wasn’t here, he’d simply continue to work, answering emails on his phone until the battery died or the power returned.
“What about just the truth part?” she asked.
“Is that a game?” Ryder looked up, and then—she was pleased to notice—he slipped his phone back into his jacket pocket.
“We’ll call it a get-to-know-you game.”
“We’ve known each other for four years. You’ve been in my house about a hundred times.”
“And yet, I don’t feel like I know you as well as I should.”
Ryder studied her face for a moment, and it seemed to Darcy like he was actually just now realizing she was there and might want to talk. She swallowed down the hurt of always being invisible to this man. “I suppose you’re right. Okay. How do we start?”
“We can just take turns asking whatever we want to know.” Darcy slipped off her shoes, tucking one foot underneath her other leg as she turned toward him. “For example, what do you think is the best movie ever made?”
Ryder didn’t even hesitate to respond. “That’s easy. Blade Runner.”
Darcy wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”
He quickly added, “The old one with Harrison Ford. Not the new one.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Ryder scowled. “Of course it does. So what’s your answer to that question?”
“The Princess Bride.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Darcy. That is not the best movie ever made.”
“You must be crazy. It has everything you could ever want in a movie. Pirates, sword fights, humor, kidnapping, true love, scary creatures, Billy freaking Crystal. Have you ever seen it?”
“You exposed my son to that movie when he was eight years old.