I feel the remnants of it when I’m near Myles? Wouldn’t I sense it? I must have built up the whole thing in my head because the only warmth I felt with him was that of a blooming friendship. I could see myself caring for the man, though never romantically. I could see us getting close in the future, but never intimately.
The way I feel around Ryder, however, is a completely different story.
Out of a completely different book.
It’s like apples and oranges. Night and day. Dry and wet.
And speaking of wet…
I can’t imagine a world now where I don’t want to lick the underside of Ryder’s jaw just to taste his aftershave. Where I don’t fantasize about the other night in the conference room ending with him yanking me across the table and driving into me so hard that we break that table. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to picture those same things happening with Myles. How or why I know that, I can’t say.
Intuition, perhaps?
Again, I keep all of this to myself. I don’t need the three of them leading me down the yellow brick road to the Wonderful World of Impractical Romantic Notions.
I answer Sloane’s question with a nonchalant shrug. “I was just feeling really euphoric that night, with my brother moving back to town and everything. I think it painted the rest of the night’s events in—”
Harper bursts into a fit of giggles.
We all look at her.
“Sorry.” She wiggles her toes where her nail technician holds a pumice stone. “Ticklish.”
Quinn leans around her to look at Sloane. “She’s using words like ‘euphoric.’ Something’s definitely up.”
“I came here for female advice,” I chide, “not a vocabulary analysis.”
“You’d never admit to being ‘euphoric’ about anything unless you were tanked,” Sloane says flatly. “We usually get something like, ‘I’m gonna start shitting rainbows and unicorns, I’m so stoked.”
It’s rude how well they know me.
“So, there weren’t sparks between you and Myles. But there are between you and Ryder.”
Like a Chinese New Year parade.
“But he didn’t light that fuse until his brother showed up,” I point out skeptically. “Now, he’s wanting to put in some overtime with me? Awful big coincidence, don’t you think?”
“Maybe the jealousy just knocked a screw loose in him,” Harper suggests. “After all, he’s never had to face competition for you before.”
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about. Myles admitted to there being a long-standing competitive thing between them. I’m not going to be the toy they fight over.”
I watch Sue start applying the first coat of the polish I chose: Rock His World Red. I swear, I didn’t notice the name until after I sat down in this chair. Just a wild coincidence that there happens to be a man in my life whose world I want to rock like Ozzy Osbourne at a goth convention.
“Oh, but that playtime would be so much fun,” Quinn says wistfully.
Harper purrs like a contented kitty. “Mmm, and you could put them both in timeout when they refuse to share.”
Okay, they’re making some valid points—
“If we could stop talking like a porno for two seconds,” Sloane cuts in. “I don’t think that’s what Ryder’s doing, Gretch. I mean, think about it. Even if there is some sort of competition between them, what happened between you and Myles wouldn’t nag at Ryder if he didn’t want you for himself.”
Even if she’s right… “It still doesn’t change the fact that he’s my boss. If we start something and it ends badly, it could really screw things up with my job.”
That’s not even skimming the surface of how disturbing my reaction to seeing him with Ms. Renard yesterday was. If we got involved—even if it was just sex—I’m not sure I could handle seeing him with other women. My jealousy at lunch nearly consumed me from the inside out. Like in Aliens.
I shudder at the image of a slimy little green monster bursting out of my chest.
And Ryder and I haven’t even done anything!
“Yeah, that’s a hard one,” Harper comments.
“That’s what Gretchen said.”
“Not clever enough, Quinnie,” I tell her, disappointed. “I’m deducting points.”
Quinn smiles. “I work with what I’ve got.”
“Well, this conversation has been very unproductive,” I grumble.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Sloane muses. “Your nipples are about to rip through your shirt, so I’d say someone has enjoyed herself.”
I glance down. She’s not lying. Proof positive that merely thinking about Ryder can arouse me. “You checking me out again, Williams?”
“Gretch, those things are like LED headlights right now. People down the street