Chapter Nine #2
His eyes widened, astounded I said yes. No one was more astounded than me.
I think it was the glasses. I saw too much of Ian in him.
And it wasn’t like this was an unusual request. Boss and I had been to lunch several times over the years to celebrate, or just to have lunch together.
I guess it was appropriate for Mr. Greyson and me to have the same type of post-presentation lunch.
Of course, he would never be a Boss, but like it or not, he was my boss.
He behaved like Ian again, opening my door.
When I grimaced, his unrelenting posture said I could deal with it.
Honestly, though, I was having a hard time dealing with the Ian-Mr. Greyson whiplash.
How he could be so different on and off the clock was almost impressive.
I wondered what happened at his company to make him behave so rigidly in the office.
Or should I say even more rigid than he naturally was?
While Ian seemed pleased I agreed to have lunch with him, he was obviously still bothered by something that happened in our meeting.
I could still read him. He kept tapping the steering wheel or clenching and rubbing it.
He was also silent, working through something in his thoughts.
He should be happy. I had no doubt those guys were signing on the dotted line.
I was trying to think of something to say to break the uncomfortable silence. I finally came up with, “Do you have any other ideas or contacts in other verticals we could approach? Because I was thinking we could go after—”
“Are you going to call that guy?” He abruptly interrupted me. “Because I don’t think that would be a good idea until we close this deal.”
I paused and took a second to make sure I heard him right. Yes. Yes, I had. “I’m not sure that’s any of your concern. In fact, I know it’s not; but no, I have no intention of calling him.”
His shoulders relaxed and he quit tapping on the steering wheel. He also slowed down considerably. He drove fast when he was stressed. I didn’t understand why this was such a stressor.
He briefly glanced over my way. “Why aren’t you going to call him?”
“Is that a real question?”
“Yes,” he said matter-of-factly. “I think he is what most women would find attractive, and I guarantee his position there pays at least triple what you make.”
“And that should mean something to me why?” I asked.
“Money’s not important to you?”
“Not in that way, no. I don’t care about the size of a man’s paycheck, as long as he’s a hard worker and a decent person.”
He pursed his lips, skeptical.
“I’m telling the truth.”
He nodded, like sure you are.
That ticked me off, so I went off on him.
“A good portion of the men that have meant the most to me in my life have made very little money. And just for the record, I wouldn’t date someone like Nicholas because I know his type, and no amount of money would compensate for it.
” I turned and looked out my window at the cars passing us by.
For some reason I had the urge to cry. “Maybe we should just go back to the office,” I muttered.
I felt the slightest touch on my knee, but I didn’t react to it. I kept staring out the window.
“Kelli, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you mean, Ms. Bryant?”
“No.”
“Apology accepted, Mr. Greyson.”
“Do you have any suggestions for where you would like to eat?” His tone was repentant.
I thought for a moment. “Sure, there’s a great little café near the river walk.” I spouted out directions to him.
“So, just for the record, what type of man is Mr. Price?” he asked bravely, or maybe stupidly.
I wasn’t sure why he wanted to keep on this line of questioning.
You would think he would have left well enough alone, but fine, I decided to play along for a bit.
“He’s all about the flash, there’s nothing real about him.
A date with him would mean an exclusive, overpriced restaurant.
The food would be awful, and the conversation would be worse, as it would center completely on him.
Then he would probably have tickets to a sold-out show, and he would congratulate himself all evening for scoring said tickets.
To top it off, he would expect to be paid back for showing you such a good time by some physical means.
Of course, when that didn’t happen, he would be disgruntled, but he would play it off because now you just became a challenge and he likes the chase.
But eventually he’d get tired of the chase and realize there were easier women out there, and he’d never call again. ”
He pulled into the café parking lot, turned the car off, and faced me. “You got all of that from one meeting?”
I unclicked my seatbelt. “I can read people very well, men in particular. And I’ve had the unfortunate pleasure to know a Nicholas or two in my day.”
His forehead crinkled. Not sure why that bothered him.
I exited the vehicle and took a moment to let the sun shine on my face. It was such a beautiful day, I felt like it shouldn’t be wasted inside. “Would it bother your allergies too much if we ate outside?”
“The allergy medicine seems to be working well.” He briefly took a moment to look around at our surroundings. “I think eating outside is a great idea.”
I wasn’t sure if he was being sincere or just trying to please me, but I accepted it. I was hoping we would be lucky and there would be some struggling musicians playing out by the river. This was Nashville after all.
Ian asked the hostess for a table for two outside, and we were immediately seated.
“They serve breakfast here all day and everything is fabulous.” I plucked my menu out of the stand on the table.
I pulled that baby in front of my face, to give myself a moment’s reprieve.
Staring at his gorgeous face for long periods of time was making me do dumb things, like go to lunch with him.
Who knew what else might happen? Obviously, nothing, right?
Right. We were keeping it strictly professional.
I decided on the Denver Omelet, full of ham and cheesy goodness.
I never understood why Denver was its namesake.
He decided on their bleu cheeseburger with sweet potato fries.
Of course he asked what temperature they cooked the burger to.
I had to stop myself from laughing. It was a very Ian-like thing to do.
The poor waitress had no idea, she had to ask someone.
Once the flustered waitress left there was no way I could keep staring at my menu. It also meant Mr. Greyson only had eyes for me now. “Do you miss Colorado?” he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Sometimes. I’ve been thinking I should take a vacation there someday. How about you? Are you homesick?”
“Men don’t get homesick.”
“If you say so.”
He leaned in closer across the small round table. “I find I’m liking Nashville more and more.”
I leaned back, trying to keep up the boundaries I needed to stay in place. “Nashville’s great, but it lacks the mountain scenery.”
He looked out toward the river and then back to me, capturing my gaze. “I’d say Nashville has some pretty great scenery of its own.”
I cleared my throat. Surely, he didn’t mean me. I was thankful when our sweet little waitress returned with the waters we had ordered. It was getting awfully warm.
Mr. Greyson skimmed the rim of his glass. “I’m curious, you say you can read men well. What is your summation of me?”
“Ha! I don’t think you want to know.”
His shoulders sank, but he quickly recovered, sitting up even taller than before. “Say you just met me today and I gave you my number. What would you think?”
“Oh, so now we’re pretending. Fine.” I studied him for a moment or two, trying to keep my unflattering opinions of him out of it and think as if I had never met him.
I knew what I thought of him the first time I ever met him, but that was Ian, not Mr. Greyson; however, I knew I would think the same thing, Oh my, he’s attractive.
Yeah, I wouldn’t be saying that out loud.
He sipped his water, eagerly waiting for my reply.
“Well . . . First of all, I would think it was out of character for you to hand me your number. You look like somebody who likes to be in control—you would want my number instead. That way you could control the variables and timing.”
He brought his hands together and rested his elbows on the table. “Very good.”
“I told you.” I sat back and congratulated myself silently.
“You can’t end it there. You didn’t say whether you would give me your number or not.”
“No,” I said quickly.
“Just like that?” He sounded offended . . . no, maybe disappointed?
“No, not just like that.”
“Then why?”
I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “Because you look troubled, like there’s a woman.
I’m guessing an ex-wife, that’s still under your skin, and you can’t get over her.
You want to and you’ve tried, but to no avail.
I don’t like that kind of competition, Mr. Greyson.
But it doesn’t really matter because this is all pretend. ”
He leaned forward too, entering my personal space. We were so close I could see my reflection in his lenses. His soulful eyes were penetrating my own, making me forget to breathe.
“You’re right, Kelli, there is a woman, but it’s not my ex-wife. And I did try to get over her, but I discovered that’s where I went wrong.” He sat back.
I took a deep gulp of air before taking a long drink of my ice water.
This conversation was much more than I had bargained for.
I wondered who the woman was, and for a brief second, I was jealous of her.
I wanted a man to speak of me in such hushed and reverent tones.
Not just any man, I wanted Ian to. What she had that I didn’t, I knew I’d never know—except for Ian’s heart.
“Will you excuse me for a moment?” I stood and walked to the ladies’ room as fast as I could, reminding myself I was over Ian, that Mr. Greyson was my boss, and that I should never eat lunch with him again.