Chapter Eighteen
Maddie
“I don’t get it,” Ryan chimes, eyeing my slouched form and pouted lip like he’s trying to figure out the world’s most complex puzzle. “I thought you wanted to win.”
I side-eye the man, wanting to stew in my annoyance for a little longer, but I can’t help it.
The words burst out of me like a popped soda can, spilling into the air between us, only separated by a table filled with far too many plates and large glasses of water.
“A little robot, Ryan. Or something akin to a little vacuum that I could name something stupid. What the hell am I supposed to do with a two-week paid vacation? I can’t very well name that Optimus Crime or something, now, can I? ”
I’m pretty sure the inconsiderate bastard is trying not to laugh at me again, but he’s failing, and it’s prickling my nerves in a way no amount of pizza, mozzarella sticks, and garlic bread can soothe.
And there’s a whole lot of that laid out between us, enough to feed the restaurant, along with several other plates of full meals I know I’m not going to eat.
I vaguely wonder how Ryan is going to pack it all away in such a slim, toned body.
That distraction only lasts twenty seconds before he makes my annoyance worse by offering an answer I wasn’t looking for. “You could, I don’t know, go on vacation?”
“But why would I do that when I love my job? I’ve already had three days off, and I thought I was going to go crazy then.
I mean, you already know what happened on my first day off.
What will two weeks bring? Why does the universe continue to shit all over me?
” I complain, reaching for a mozzarella stick, dipping it a little aggressively in the small bowl of ranch, and biting into it with an aggression you’d expect from a freaking crocodile.
Ryan doesn’t mention it, sitting opposite me at a cute restaurant he brought me to for lunch, not at all embarrassed to be seen with a woman wearing clothes bright enough to be spotted from the space station.
I think he’s simply trying to cheer me up after listening to me complain about my long-awaited win, his ears barely hanging on by a thread after spending two and a half hours in the studio with me, pretending to care about my bitching between photo shoots.
Poor guy wanted a peek into how I work, and I gave him an experience I’m sure he won’t want to repeat.
I should pay for lunch as an apology. Yeah, that’s probably the good thing to do.
“So long as you stay away from the lube, I think you’ll survive two weeks away from work,” he assures, and the first prickle of annoyance seeps from my bones.
As though he can see his words take effect, he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, and continues, “You could always go abroad. Take a trip or something. Take your camera with you. It’ll be just like work, only fun. ”
“Work is fun,” I argue, but only to be petulant, because his suggestion does actually sound better. Two weeks of traveling with my camera? Hell, I could get some gorgeous shots in that time.
“Not as fun as flying somewhere nice and sunny, eating plenty of good food, experiencing new things, and filling your camera with photographs you could frame. You could replace the ones that shattered yesterday in your apartment,” he says, doing his best to convince me that this isn’t the tragic loss I was considering it to be.
I’ll be spanked by my mother if it isn’t working, too.
I eye the man before me, those butterflies still swarming my stomach with enough stamina that I wonder if they’ll ever leave, and finally concede. “If I say you make a valid argument, will you hold it against me?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” he answers instantly, sitting back in his seat as though he’s accomplished great and miraculous things. And they say I’m dramatic.
Looking away from the slightly smug man, my gaze wanders toward the front door of the restaurant, only to land on a pair of pretty green eyes and a killer smile that sets those pesky butterflies into a frenzy once more.
Caiden waves over at me, and I lift a confused hand and wave back, a little baffled but low-key thrilled to see him walking through the spaces between tables. My surprise is doubled, nay, tripled, when I spy Rayne and Baxter following behind him, each just as devastatingly beautiful as the other.
Bax smiles, and Rayne offers one of those manly head jerks in greeting, and I turn to a grinning Ryan with questions in my eyes that he can see now that I’ve removed my sunglasses.
I mean, I don’t have to hide the disaster from him.
He’s seen it firsthand and knows the backstory.
I’d only look like a bigger idiot than I already look in my eye-burning yellow suit if I kept my sunglasses on inside the nice restaurant.
“I called them. Figured we could have lunch together,” Ryan answers the silent question I’m sending him, gesturing to the food between us. “You didn’t think I could eat all of this, did you?”
I shake my head because, no, I didn’t. I did think he might give it a try, but I was dubious at best. “I wondered if you’d accomplish it. I wasn’t willing to pick up the slack where you failed.”
Ryan laughs. “Gee, thanks. I hope you don’t mind that I called them.”
Another head shake from yours truly. “Not at all. I just feel guilty all four of you are now being subjected to this suit.”
“It really isn’t that bad-” Ryan begins, right as Caiden parks his delectably round tush in the seat beside mine and greets me with, “Why does it look like you’re aiming to be seen from the moon, Blue?”
My gaze snaps back to Ryan, who is doing everything to avoid my eyes, and I point a mozzarella stick at him. “You’re a filthy liar, Ryan Young.”
Before he can argue his case, Baxter and Rayne both take their seats around the table, Rayne sitting to Ryan’s left while Baxter takes up position to his right, leaving a seat to my right empty.
This does explain why Ryan insisted on sitting at one of the bigger tables rather than the two-person table the waitress tried to direct us to.
Sure enough, I watch as understanding crosses her young face when she peers over at us, nodding to herself like the questions she was asking herself have finally been answered.
My attention is lured away when Baxter’s drawl tickles my eardrums. “That’s an interesting choice of clothing.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I mutter, and Ryan laughs under his breath as he helps himself to his own pizza.
“What? What’s funny?” Caid asks, eyeing my pizza as though he’s checking what toppings I’ve opted for.
He nods with what I think is approval when he spies the pepperoni, bacon, ham, and spicy ground beef on a barbecue base with enough cheese to make someone intolerant to lactose shit themselves in fear.
“Nothing, really,” Ryan answers, shaking his head before diving into his own food now that our surprise company has arrived. I can’t say I’m in any way mad about it, because now I have more delicious things to look at while I eat. This godawful outfit will not ruin that for me.
Ignoring Caid’s questioning look, I eye his food before reaching for a handful of fries from his plate and replacing them with a slice of my pizza, flashing him a smile before I get stuck in.
The man doesn’t even mention it, simply reaches over to place a few more fries on my plate, and a funny little warmth blooms in my chest right where my heart beats a staccato rhythm that is starting to concern me.
It only beats like that when I’m near these four guys. What is that even about?
The table grows quiet for a long moment, the focus turning to the delicious food laid out before us instead of the ghastly suit I refuse to answer questions about. Sadly, that only lasts for approximately seven minutes before Rayne asks, “So, what’s with the biohazard-suit-colored getup?”
There’s no escaping this wretched suit. Hell, that’s obvious enough, because I’m sure aliens from galaxies far, far away can see it. Sure, it won me this prize, but the prize wasn’t a little pet robot that cleans, and now I’m stuck wearing this crap until I can go home.
When I peer over at Ryan, I find him actively battling his smile while he tries to eat his chicken burger, and I roll my eyes before explaining to the rest of the table. “It’s a thing I do for my studio. Every month, we have Suit Up Day. The boldest suit wins.”
“Please tell me you won, Blue,” Caiden snickers, eating the slice of pizza I gave him. “Because if you’re walking around like a beacon without some form of compensation, I think we’re going to need to reevaluate your life choices.”
“She won,” Ryan answers for me, and my eyes are rolling once more, because two weeks away from work doesn’t seem like it was worth this wretched suit.
“What was the prize?” Baxter wonders, his rumbling voice sending shivers through me.
“Two weeks’ paid vacation,” Ry answers before I can even inhale, and I nod in agreement. “And she’s none too happy about it, either.”
“What? Why?” Caid blurts, turning to face me like I’m crazy.
We’ve already deduced that I am, so I ignore the redundant reaction, opting to go to my happy place where there’s pizza, garlic bread, and mozzarella sticks.
I’m not so deep in there that I miss Caiden ask Ry, “And why do you know so much, anyway?”
“He came to work with me and experienced Suit Up Day,” I mumble around a slice of pizza that could send me to the gods happily. I practically moan like a pizza slut around the large bite I take, cheesy goodness making love to my taste buds in ways that could be considered X-rated.
“Thought you were going to a cafe,” Rayne interjects, a tiny hint of accusation in his words, and my eyes pop open only to find three pairs of incredibly beautiful eyes watching me.
Covering my mouth with my hand, I run my gaze over Ryan, Baxter, and Caid, muttering around my mouthful, “What?”