Chapter 6 #2
“Shiloh didn’t leave traps out this year,” I remind Dryden, coming to my boss’ defense. He slants me a side-eyed look that says yeah, but he wanted to. Grinning, I take a sip of my beer and pat the stool next to me. “You better sit down if you’re having a double.”
“Sure, sweetheart,” he replies, like I’m his partner and he’s only sitting down to humor me. I shake my head. Dryden is such an ass. I kind of love it.
“Did you do anything fun for the holidays? Go see your family?” I ask him, turning in my seat a little bit so I can have eye contact while we chat.
He slides onto the stool next to me, giving a short nod to Ryan when his drink is delivered.
Spinning my own beverage around on the bar top, I hum along to the music playing from the old-school jukebox in the corner.
“Fun? I’m not sure that’s a word that could be used to describe the holidays or my family,” he replies. “I did go home, yes. Hence the double.” He lifts his ball glass in the air and drains it. I raise my eyebrows. It must have been bad to still be scrubbing his Christmas memories with drink.
“I’m sorry. You should have just stayed here, like me. Holidays alone are better than holidays with people you dislike.”
Dryden’s eyes meet mine, far too knowing.
My penchant for overtalking often leads to oversharing, which is why Dryden, Ryan, Nils, and everyone else who stands close to me too long are privy to a lot of things that I wouldn’t have shared if I were able to control myself.
He knows some things about my relationship with my father and has been able to infer the rest.
But, as my prickly companion has learned, being loquacious also means I’m good at prodding others to be the same.
Dryden considers every single thing about himself a national-security-level secret.
He doesn’t part with anything easily, and the few times I’ve been able to wheedle something out, he’d looked so immediately regretful it was almost funny.
I’d expected the words if I tell you, I’ll have to kill you to come out of his mouth.
“Was your ex-husband there?” I ask, because even if he hadn’t wanted to share at the time, he did. I can’t unknow it. He lifts his fingers off the rim of his glass, signaling to Ryan that he’d like another. I’m going to have to drive him home.
“Oh, yes. Our families run in the same circles.”
I grimace in sympathy. I’d like to think my parents wouldn’t invite my ex-husband to Christmas.
Especially if the breakup was as contentious as I suspect Dryden’s was.
He’s such an ass, and so strange about letting people in.
In my mind, I blame the nameless, faceless ex, unable to imagine Dryden was born this way.
“My lord, you really just say whatever pops into your head, don’t you?” Dryden comments, smirking at me. I close my eyes and push away the beer.
“I didn’t mean to say that,” I admit. He laughs. “And you say whatever pops into your head, so you can’t talk. At least my thoughts are usually appropriate.”
“True,” he concedes, toasting me before throwing back his second drink. “Perhaps next year, I’ll bring you home with me, set you loose in the ballroom, and watch the upper crust crumble.”
I laugh. He makes me sound like a tornado.
“Deal. And you can come to mine.”
“Oh, now that I’d enjoy.” Dryden smiles, but it’s the sort of smile that looks more like the baring of teeth.
I let myself picture it for a second—Dryden walking through the door of my family’s house, sneer in place, and probably dressed to the nines.
My father would like him on sight. Would like the clean, rich lines of him and the way Dryden acts like he’s better than everyone else.
And then, the moment Father said something cutting to me, Dryden would smile, beautiful and aloof, and eviscerate him. I think I might enjoy it, too.
“It’s a date,” I tell him, clinking our glasses together.
I stay too long at the bar. Around ten, Dryden and I were the only patrons remaining.
Ryan joined us, nursing a glass of water and lobbing flirtations Dryden’s way, trying to see what might stick.
I can’t even blame the single beer I drank for the number of embarrassing stories I told, nor can I regret it.
There’s something incredibly satisfying about making someone laugh so hard tears come out of their eyes.
It wasn’t only Ryan having fun either. Even Dryden, ice king that he is, was smiling in a way that was less practiced and more real.
Now, halfway home, driving ten below the speed limit and leaning forward over the steering wheel in an effort to see better, I’m having a few regrets.
At least I didn’t have to drive Dryden home, although the reason I didn’t is making me feel oddly jealous.
It’s not as though I want to sleep with Ryan.
He’s nice, and certainly nice to look at, but there’s nothing there beyond that.
I’m not jealous of the who, in this scenario, but the situation itself.
A warm bed in a warm house with a warm body for company sounds heavenly right now. I wish I weren’t as picky as I am.
“No one-night stands for Oliver, no, sir, not any longer,” I tell the empty car. Not even my dry, slightly sore throat is enough to get me to shut up.
My drive is covered in snow when I turn down it, and for one heart-stopping moment, my SUV sticks before pushing through.
It’s drifts, I realize, since the roads didn’t have this much snow cover.
Shoveling is going to be hell. Worse if I leave it all for morning instead of doing some now.
Idling in front of my slowly opening garage, I slump in the seat and think about Nils.
His drive and walk and front steps are all shoveled.
I don’t have to see it to know it’s true.
He’s probably been out every hour once the snow started falling thicker, keeping ahead of the accumulation.
Taking a deep breath, I drive into the garage and park, leaving it open for now.
I’m going to groan about it, wish Nils were here, and get it done now.
Maybe I’ll call him tomorrow and see if he’s the one who needs help for a change.