Chapter Two #2
“Yeah,” he said, his lengthy stride bringing him even with her now.
Anna interpreted his tone as being, Well, obviously.
“I was only surprised,” she said, a bit defensively. What a jerk.
She considered pausing to dig into her wide purse, pretending to search for something, giving him time to pass her.
Just as she contemplated the ruse, he asked, “What did you have for breakfast in there that was worthy of photographic evidence?”
Anna had forgotten about the picture in her hand.
“Oh,” she said, and laughed nervously, having the impression that he really didn’t care about the picture, but he might have just realized how rude he’d sounded and was trying to make up for it.
“Lemon cheesecake brioche French toast,” she told him absently, and held the little rectangle up for him to see.
He slowed, just a bit, and frowned down at the picture.
“You had dessert for breakfast,” he remarked.
His tone was hard to read, and Anna couldn’t tell if he was passing judgment or if it was only surprise she detected in his deep voice.
“Essentially,” she admitted, supposing that someone who looked like him, as fit as he was, didn’t indulge in decadent food. Still thinking he probably was a jerk, she said with a false smile, “Yes, I had dessert for breakfast. And I don’t expect to regret it anytime soon.”
And to her surprise, he grinned at this—he didn’t laugh, didn’t even glance her way again, but she saw the slight curve to his lips.
And though she didn’t think he had slowed his stride, meaning to keep pace with her, they were now walking side by side, and because it seemed awkward to do so without speaking, she asked simply, “Are you visiting? Vacationing?”
“I’m here for work,” he answered shortly.
“What do you do?” she asked—a natural, polite follow-up question.
He sighed before he answered, giving Anna the impression he wasn’t really interested in talking with her. But no worries, he was staring at the road ahead and not her, and so didn’t see the way her eyes widened at how boorish he was.
“I manage procurement and logistics for an international firm. Nothing exciting,” he said.
No, she didn’t think it was, since she wasn’t quite sure what it meant. But then another thought struck her and she pounced on it. “Were you watching me in the bistro? I mean, how did you know the picture was of food and not something else?”
This, too, seemed to frustrate him, and he turned a scorching frown her way. “I wasn’t watching you,” he said as they walked. “I happened to glance up from across the café just as you were taking the photo with your—what is it? “A Polaroid camera?”
Anna nodded. “Yeah, well, no. It’s a Fuji Instant camera. I bought it for my trip.”
“Your first time here?”
Again, she wasn’t sure why he asked, why he continued talking to her.
He clearly wasn’t interested in what she had to say, or in her, and he wasn’t polite enough—so far as she could tell—to simply make conversation to not appear rude.
But she wasn’t rude, and so she replied, “Yes. I’m doing an England, Rome, Paris tour for eleven days—this is day three. ”
“Don’t those tours usually involve guided things? Aren’t you with a group?”
“I am, but I’m skipping the guided tour today. The weather’s too nice for museums, so I’m seeing a play and then finding a park with some live music.”
“Solo traveler, then?”
“For today, anyway.” And for the life of her, she would never know why she thought it necessary to reveal: “I’m trying to step outside my comfort zone.
Not that I’m uncomfortable,” she was quick to make clear, “but I just want to make sure I get the most out of my vacation, like I don’t want to... I don’t know how to explain it.”
“You don’t want to miss anything?” he suggested.
Shaking her head, she clarified, “I don’t want to spend time doing things I don’t want to do, but then I don’t want to talk myself out of doing things that I would want to do.”
He continued walking, still side by side with her, but turned to glance at her, seeming to study her more intently now, his green eyes roaming over her entire face, and with such dedication that she felt a blush rising.
“Do you do that often?” he finally asked. “Talk yourself out of things?”
Anna winced at herself before she could help it. “I’m afraid so.”
“Why?”
The question caught her off guard. She looked ahead, watching a cyclist weave between pedestrians before answering. “I don’t know.” She shrugged lightly. “I have a habit of thinking things through until I can find a reason not to do them.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
She laughed softly. “Some days it is.”
“Seems to be... restricting,” he remarked.
“Oh, absolutely.” She gave him a sunny, hopeful smile.
“But I promised myself I’d think less and act more while I’m here.
” Anna swallowed and her smile faltered, feeling she’d said way too much to a complete stranger, and slowed her steps.
“Anyway, I’ve... taken enough of your time. Have a good day.”
He stopped as well when she did, studying her for another moment before giving a small nod.
“Same. Enjoy your vacation.”
“You, too,” Anna replied automatically. The words had only just left her mouth when heat rushed into her face, recalling that he was here for work. “Oh... I mean...” She gave an awkward little flip of her hand. “Have a good day.”
If he found her slip amusing, it didn’t show. His expression remained unreadable as he inclined his head once more and continued on, leaving Anna standing alone on the sidewalk outside a little bookstore.
She watched him walk away, resisting the urge to groan aloud. Flirt with a handsome Englishman, Mallory had said. Well, he hadn’t been English, but apparently that wasn’t the problem. She’d managed to turn a perfectly ordinary conversation into an exercise in social awkwardness.
He turned at that moment, their eyes meeting immediately.
Caught staring after him, Anna’s face went hot, and she whirled toward the bookstore’s display window just as he began to retrace his steps.
Her peripheral vision showed him coming closer, but Anna kept her attention fixed determinedly on the window until his voice came from just a few feet away.
“I’m sorry... I didn’t get your name.”
Anna turned back, unable to disguise her surprise. “My name?”
He grinned—like really smiled—and oh, boy, it was pretty disarming for how attractive it was.
“Yes, your name,” he confirmed, the distracting grin still in place.
“Anastasia—I mean, Anna.”
The grin actually widened. “Do I just pick one?”
She slapped her hand onto her cheek in mortification and somehow managed to hold his gaze. “Anastasia is my name, but everyone calls me Anna.”
“Hi. I’m Ryan,” he said, extending his hand to her.
His handshake was firm but brief, and when he released her, he appeared sheepish or unsure for one spectacular moment.
“So, Anna,” he said, trying the name out, “how long are you in York?”
“Just today. Well, tonight too. I leave tomorrow morning.”
“For?”
“London again, and then Rome.”