7. Darby
7
Darby
I wake up smiling and immediately drag my hand across my mouth as if to physically wipe it away. My eyes strain against the brightness beyond the window. What the hell? Was I smiling in my sleep? I had to have been.
How many people saw me like that? I’m curled into a seat on the end of a row facing the window, so hopefully, not too many. The blanket Zane brought me was tucked under my chin while I slept. It falls to my lap when I unfold my legs and stretch.
This blanket is the reason I woke up with a smile on my face. Okay, truthfully, it was the shirtless delivery I’d been dreaming about. And the sweatpants. I still can’t believe he walked halfway across the terminal like that.
Shit. I’m smiling again.
I pull my ugly carry-on out from under my seat and crouch on the floor to shove the blanket inside it. A woman a few seats down compliments the bag. She’s sincere, and if I didn’t need this thing, I’d give it to her.
“Thanks. I hope we can get out of here today.”
She laughs and nods at the window. “That would take a miracle.”
I force myself to look over my shoulder and face the reality. The snowfall is light now, just tiny flakes, but they’re falling on deep drifts. As I watch, they begin to swirl. Turning away quickly, I tell myself the storm’s not picking back up. It’s just a slight wind.
Dragging my bag along behind me, I step in line for the bathroom. Everyone is putting their travel-sized toiletries from the airline to use this morning.
The sight of myself in the mirror is worse than I expected. Thankfully, I have a hair clip in my purse. I wash my face and brush my teeth. People are getting testy about the wait for a sink, so I skip makeup.
All I have in my purse is lip gloss, anyway. Besides, my face feels too dry for anything else. Maybe the store with the skincare products will be open this morning. I need moisturizer. And toner, and my serums, but I’ll settle for moisturizer. A facial, that’s what I need.
It’s early, but the spa is open, and there are already customers inside. I’m clearly not the only one whose skin is distressed.
I sign in, and the woman at the counter asks if I’d like to get a back massage while I wait. After sleeping in an airport chair? Uh, yes, please. Can I get two?
The massage is over way too soon, and that facial isn’t going to win any awards, but it definitely makes my skin feel better. I’m fully awake and ready to hit the job search again.
I applied for a few positions last night while I sat at the bar, one that would be a dream, but I’m trying not to get my hopes up.
All revived and ready to go, I walk out into the terminal and nearly crash right into Zane. He catches me by my forearms and steadies me. “Do you ever look where you’re going?”
“Me? It was your fault this time.”
“Where are you coming from in such a hurry?”
“The spa.” I swivel my head and tilt it toward the business behind me. “I had a massage and a facial.”
“It’s not even eight a.m.”
“I know, and there was already a wait. Now, I’ve got to go buy moisturizer and—”
“Why didn’t you buy it in there?” He points to the spa.
“They don’t sell skincare products.”
“But they do facials?”
“Listen, I’m not their CEO. I’m just a customer.”
“Fair enough. Let’s get some breakfast first, and then, I’ll walk with you to buy your moisturizer.” He’s still got his eyes on the spa. “They do massages in there, huh?”
“Yeah. Do you need one?”
“Not as badly as I need breakfast.”
“I’m glad to see you could locate a shirt in your half-starved state.”
“Are you, though?” He winks.
I ignore it. Outwardly. “Real pants, too,” I add.
“Careful with the shoes today, please. They’re not vegan.”
“Better keep your distance to be safe.”
“Safety first, I always say.”
“Yeah, I bet you do.”
Just like last night, a table becomes available as soon as we walk up to the restaurant.
“I hate to be predictable, but the pancakes look amazing.”
“Did I predict you’d order pancakes?” He looks like he honestly doesn’t remember.
“Last night. You said I should get some sleep so I wouldn’t fall asleep in my pancakes.”
“Oh, yeah. I did say that, didn’t I?”
A notification buzzes my phone, and I grab it immediately, hoping it’s the airline with news of a rescheduled flight. It’s not that, but it is good news.
“I have an interview! In two hours.”
His raised eyebrows over the menu convey his confusion. “You plan to teleport?”
“Basically. It’s a video call interview.”
“Right. Nobody does anything face-to-face anymore. They didn’t bother to give you much warning. Keep in mind that may be how they treat their employees, too.”
“Thanks. I appreciate the good luck wishes.”
“Sorry.” He lays the menu on the table. “I’m a little hangry. And tired, but I do wish you all the best for your interview. You’re welcome to use my hotel room for the call. You can shower if you want. I’ll stay gone until your interview is over. It’s all yours if you want it.”
“I might take you up on that, given the circumstances.”
“It would make a better interview environment than . . .” He gestures at the terminal outside the restaurant. “You’re welcome to it.”
“Thanks. Yeah, I’d like to use it, if you really don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all. I’m impressed you got an interview so quickly after applying.”
“So am I. It’s sort of my dream job. I wasn’t even keeping an eye on the market, so if I hadn’t been fired, I never would’ve known it was available.”
“That’s amazing. I’m happy for you.” His tone is flat.
“Are you okay? You seem kind of down this morning.”
He plasters on the fakest smile I’ve ever seen. “Yeah, I’m good. I get like this when I need to eat.”
I know he’s lying, but I don’t press for more. It’s none of my business.
An omelet, bacon, two biscuits, and three cups of coffee do improve his mood. Maybe he really did just need to eat.
He comes into the store with me to buy moisturizer. I purchase a travel kit with the whole line of products I use, and his eyes bulge when the cashier speaks the total out loud. We’re not even completely out of the store before he says, “Did you expect to pay that much for those little bitty bottles?”
“Yes. That’s just what it costs.”
“I’m in the wrong business.”
“Really? I’d think jewel thief would be incredibly lucrative.” I notice the bounce in my step, and tell myself to calm down. It’s just an interview. “What business are you actually in?”
“I’m an actuary.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Was statistics your favorite class?”
“God, no. Whose favorite class was statistics?”
“Actuaries.”
“Oh. So, it’s a numbers thing.”
“Very much so.”
“Cool. I’m in PR, so I work with numbers, too, but more of the rising and falling publicity mentions variety. And sales numbers to a degree.”
“I work with the statistical variety, mainly the statistics of loss.”
“Hmm, me, too. Potential loss of your reputation, your career . . .”
“Careers could be lost without a good actuary, too.”
“Well, damn. Who knew we were in the same business?”
“I never would’ve guessed.”
“Seriously, though. You don’t seem like an accountant.”
“You don’t seem like a hype girl.”
“That is not what I am.”
“Touché.”
“Got it. You have a complicated job.”
“It sounds like we both do.”
He insists on picking up the check again, says it’s to celebrate my interview.
When we get up to his room, he lets me in, wishes me luck, and turns to leave.
“Should I just text you when my interview is over?”
“That’s kind of the way I saw this going, yeah.” He winks at me again, and I get another chill, much like the one he offered to kiss away last night.
Nerves. It’s just interview nerves.
I stand in the doorway and watch him walk away for a few moments, the same way I did when he left me at the bar. He’s wearing a shirt this time, but I can still see his back muscles as if he weren’t. And his perfectly sculpted shoulders, the peaks and indentions of his spine, the way his waist narrows . . .
Okay, time to shower. I shake away the image of Zane’s bare back and try not to think about the fact that I’m about to be naked in the same space where he’s been naked.
Damn these interview nerves!
***
That was the most successful interview I’ve ever had. There is not a doubt in my mind that I nailed it. I just don’t know if I want the job.
It doesn’t matter. If they offer it, I’ll have to take it.
I should be ecstatic right now, but I feel let down for some reason—like I’m sad that the interview went so well.
The position I interviewed for is PR rep, which is what I do. I started out as an intern during college, became an assistant, and then eventually, I got my own clients. If I get this job, I’ll finally be a senior rep, working with the biggest clients and earning a much bigger salary. This is everything I’ve been climbing toward.
So, why am I doing a mental faceplant instead of cartwheels?
What else am I going to do for a job? Become a homicide detective?
That reminds me I need to let Zane know the interview is over, and he can have his room back. Should I just leave? Is that rude? If I stay and wait for him, is that worse? I don’t know the etiquette for returning a man’s borrowed hotel room.
I send the text and begin packing up my computer. He replies immediately.
Zane: Don’t leave. I’m headed up.
Um, okay. So, I guess I’ll wait.
I stand from the desk chair where I just gave my stellar interview performance and pace around the room for a few minutes, considering my life choices. Do I really still want to work in PR? I sit on the bed, but spring back up from the mattress like it’s on fire. How disrespectful to just plop my ass down where he sleeps like I own the place.
Dammit, Darby. Pull yourself together.
I’m smoothing the covers to make sure I don’t leave a butt imprint on his freshly made bed when he walks through the door without knocking. No warning other than the quick click of the lock disengaging, not that he should have to issue a warning to enter his own room.
“How’d it go?” he asks.
“Good. Really good, I think.”
“That’s great!” He presents me with a gift bag. I was so worried about being caught touching his bed I hadn’t even noticed it in his hand.
“What’s this?”
“Just a little something I picked up for you in Rome.”
“You got me a gift?”
“I promised you jewelry. And I always deliver on my promises.”
“At least I know you didn’t steal it since it’s in a bag.”
“Like a jewel thief can’t be considerate. Open it.”
I sit on his bed again. There’s a small box inside the bag. And inside the box is a necklace with a chunky, silver paperclip chain and a pendant that’s made of some kind of swirly, blue stone. Beneath the stone is a dropped freshwater pearl. It’s exactly the sort of thing I might’ve picked out for myself.
“Thank you, but you didn’t have to do this.”
“I wanted you to have something to remind you of that crazy guy you met in an airport once.”
“You’re not exactly forgettable, Zane.”
“Good.” He sits in the desk chair and wheels it over so he’s facing me. “So, tell me about the interview.”
I probably tell him more than he wanted to know, practically give him a play-by-play of the entire thing.
“You know they’re going to offer you that job, right? Congratulations.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“Do you not want it?”
“I don’t know. I’d have to be out of my mind not to want this job, but something feels off. I think it’s me. I’m off.”
“You are sleep-deprived. Lie down. I’m supposed to be on vacation, but I’ve seen some emails come through. I said I’d check them when I could, so I’m going to do that now. I’ll probably be awhile. Go to sleep, Darby. It’s fine.”
He says it like it would be the most natural thing in the world for me to crawl into this bed and pass out while he works. I can’t lie, it’s an enticing thought.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” He wheels the chair back across the room and pulls his computer from the corner of the desk where I shoved it when I made myself at home there.
I watch him log on. He’s busy. And this empty bed is so inviting.
Fuck it. I do need sleep.
I kick off my shoes, pull the extra blanket from the foot of the bed, and curl up on top of his covers. I’m not about to climb between his fresh sheets, but I do use one of his pillows. I’m warm and cozy, and I know it’ll be no problem at all to drift off here.
The soft tapping of his fingers moving across the keyboard is the only sound as I yawn into the pillowcase . . .