The Mix-Up (Southern Hearts Club #3) - Melanie Munton Page 0,17
job at the time.”
“Do you want to take over the business some day?”
He cringes. “God, no. I don’t even really like the job. But the money is good and what I’d really like to do doesn’t come with health insurance and full benefits.”
“Pottery,” I supply.
His eyes coyly meet mine. “Perceptive little thing, aren’t you?”
“I just pay attention.”
He sighs. “I’ve recently started sculpting, too. I’d like to have my own gallery someday. A place where I can feature and sell my work. But I’ve never been able to make everything come together at the same time.”
My heart is melting for this man. I don’t know if he normally keeps his guard up around people he doesn’t know well, but he’s quickly dropped it toward me. In doing so, he’s allowed me to see a side of him I doubt many others ever get to.
“Have you told Ryder any of this?”
He tosses the straw wrapper back on the table with a heavy exhale. “Nah. I doubt he’d take me seriously. He just sees me as a kiss-ass and a sellout.”
I frown. “I’m sure that’s not true. You know, he invests in local businesses. He even helped my friend’s helicopter charter business get off the ground. I’m sure if you talked to him, he could help—”
Myles bursts with laughter. “I appreciate the thought, Gretchen. But my brother wouldn’t give me money if I was begging for it on the street and living out of a shopping cart.”
I can’t bring myself to believe that. Ryder might drive me up the wall and back, but he’s not a bad person. I think these two brothers are just long overdue for a healthy coming-to-Jesus talk.
Pot, allow me to introduce you to kettle.
I mentally flip the old hag the bird.
“Well, what do you know,” Myles mutters sardonically.
My head lifts. “What?”
He nods at something over my shoulder. “What a coincidence.”
I turn around in my seat and spot Ryder following the hostess to a table. But oh, he’s not alone. Escorting a tall, blonde woman with his hand on her lower back, they wind their way around tables and chairs while she shoots him flirtatious grins over her slim shoulder.
I recognize the slut.
Since when are we catty?
Okay, I don’t know where slut came from. She probably isn’t one. It was just some on-the-spot word association. I took one look at her, at Ryder’s hand on her back, at her curve-hugging Donna Karen dress, and shazam! Slut. First word that popped in there.
She is, however, a client. Owns a string of hair salons in the area and hired The Colson Group a few months ago to put together an ad campaign for her growing franchise.
Doesn’t get involved with anyone he works with, huh?
My Greek ass.
After pulling out her chair for her, Ryder takes his own seat across the table, which happens to face our direction. When he raises his head, his gaze immediately locks onto us. As if he knew we were here the whole time and knew we were watching. He meets my stare head-on, his face stoic, his eyes challenging.
His eyebrow climbs up his forehead. As if to say you got a problem with something, duchess?
Ooooh, that motherfu—
“Okay, my turn,” Myles interrupts my homicidal thoughts.
I turn back to him apologetically, aware that steam is probably shooting out of my ears.
His expression is thoughtful. “What’s the deal with you and my brother?”
“There is no deal,” I answer Myles haughtily, tossing my cloth napkin onto the table in annoyance. “I work for him and our personalities tend to clash.”
“Right. Because the look on your face is clearly one of professional indifference.”
I bite the inside of my cheek before parroting his words back to him. “Perceptive little thing, aren’t you?”
He snorts. “I’d have to be blind not to have seen that. What’s the story there? No filter, remember?”
Am I really going to blab to Ryder’s own brother about this? A guy I just met? The concept seems strange, but I guess Myles did spill some personal details about his life. It’s only fair that I reciprocate.
“I don’t know,” I confess with undiluted frustration. “I’ve always had attitude with him because I was under the impression that he didn’t remember the two of us having sex. It rubbed me the wrong way when he acted like he’d never met me before on my first day of work.”
“Okay, fair enough. But now you know it wasn’t him you slept with.”
I blanch. “Please, the humiliation was bad enough the first time around.”