11. Sounds like a serial killer’s perfect start to the day! #2
“So, what’s on your mind?” he finally asks after a few minutes of silent walking. The question is simple, not too pushy, but leaves it open-ended for me to respond however I please. Where would I even begin?
“What makes you think anything is on my mind?”
“Consider it a good guess. Come on, lay it on me.”
I drive people away with my Type A traits. I feel like I lost my company the biggest account we could have landed, and I have a hard time trusting people enough to open up because they’ll just leave eventually, and what will have been the point?
I side-eye him, trying to figure out if he really wants me to share. He waits patiently, raising his eyebrows. I sigh. Fine, I can tell him—kind of.
“Viv and I own our own business. I’m not used to being away and on vacation. It’s hard to set it aside and just… relax.” Not entirely untrue, but definitely also not what has been on my mind.
“Oh yeah? That’s pretty awesome. What’s your business?”
Any time I’m on a date and talk about what I do, I get so into it that whoever is listening loses interest. Their eyes glaze over, and I’m given polite head nods mixed with the occasional Oh, and Ah. I don’t need that from Luke too.
“I… It’s nothing.” I’m waving my hands weirdly, trying to shrug it off.
“You don’t like what you do?” The confusion on his face is adorable to me. So many people don’t love their day-to-day profession. I’m one of the lucky ones who do, and I know it. Considering his confusion, he may be one of the lucky ones too.
“I thought you had to get to work? Should we turn back?” I glance behind me, but Luke stops me with a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“Solid deflection, Trip. Color me impressed, though I never said that. I said I was walking to the house. The coffee there is better.”
My eyes scrunch together, scrutinizing him.
“Why do you want to know about my work?” Why am I being so difficult about this?
There’s that word again. Difficult.
Because difficult is what you do best, Liv.
“Because I’m trying to get to know you. I’m just asking about work; it’s not that deep.” His hands are in his pockets, face passive. He’s completely unruffled by my inability to just open up.
“Do you do that with every guest?” I ask.
He laughs then. A real, hearty laugh that makes me smile. I’m expecting a charming and professional response like, “Of course. Every guest is worth knowing.” But that’s not what I get.
“No, actually. I don’t. But there’s something about you, I guess. I just wanna know more.”
Damn. That’s sweet.
“So come on, let’s hear it,” he prompts.
“Okay. Viv and I run our own boutique marketing and branding agency. Let’s head back toward the house.” I turn on my heel, and he follows.
“Interesting. So what does that entail?” He matches me step for step. Out of my periphery, I can see his eyes are on me, so I attempt to keep my eyes forward.
“It’s not at all interesting. I don’t know why you want to know.” My thoughts become tangled, pulse skittering. Why does he keep asking questions?
“I mean, I could ask who made you think being difficult is a bad thing. Want me to ask that instead?” Luke’s tone never changes. He’s not being challenging or condescending. Yet, here I am, battling it out like he’s trying to steal my social security number.
I stop and glare at him. “What? Why would you ask that?”
“I saw the look on your face last night when I told you I liked difficult. Someone out there made you think it was a bad thing. Wanna tell me about that?” His mouth turns up in a knowing smile.
Tricky, tricky, tricky.
“So, as a marketing and branding agency”—Luke laughs as I begin and we resume walking—“we help influencers and companies build and define their brands, social media management, and content marketing. We can do website design and development. I mean, the list goes on, but the goal is to help companies get their names out there in a way that appeals to their audience. It took us years of networking and building client trust, and now we’re gaining clients mostly on word of mouth which is…
amazing.” I pause, checking to see if he’s checked out only to discover he hasn’t.
Not at all. In fact, it looks like he’s listening with rapt attention.
“Still with me?” I ask with a self depreciating chuckle.
“Anywhere else I should be?” He levels his gaze at me.
“I suppose not…”
Luke raises his eyebrows, a silent prompt to continue. So I do.
“We almost landed this huge client, but it went sideways.” I sigh, the failure returning to me. “That’s why we’re here on vacation. We busted our asses for weeks, and Viv convinced me we needed a break from it all.”
His captivating eyes focus on me. A crooked smile gracing his face.
“What?”
“I’m not upset that not landing the huge client has led you to our little bed-and-breakfast,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I am intrigued, though. What could have gone wrong? Sounds like you ladies have a good handle on what you’re doing.”
I tell him about Bad Date Bradley and how completely awful the date was.
Luke rolls his eyes at the right times and scoffs at the perfect moments, showing that he’s fully invested in hearing this story.
I confess I stole his expensive bottle of wine that we hardly had time to touch, just to throw it in the garbage outside the restaurant door.
He laughs at that, which sends a wave of relief through me.
I can’t say why, but Luke’s opinion of me, even though he’s a stranger, seems to matter.
“That guy sounds like a dick.”
“Right! Well, he was the financial advisor at the client meeting.”
“No!”
“Yup. He determined we were too great a risk because we hadn’t worked on a rebrand of that magnitude before. So they said no. They’d rather go with a bigger agency.”
“How can you gain experience with a rebrand of that size if no one takes a chance on you?” Luke asks.
“Exactly.” He gets it.
All too soon, we’ve made it back to the bed-and-breakfast. Luke pulls the doors open to the great room, letting me enter first.
“What a gentleman.”
“I aim to please.” He dips his head, a lock of light brown hair falling forward. The great room is now alive with guests and conversation.
Viv is there, looking haggard, pouring herself a coffee at the counter.
The B&B only has eight rooms, so the guest count is small.
There are a handful of guests in various stages of breakfast. A couple sits at a small table by the window, talking and holding hands.
The much older couple we saw exiting the boat last night occupies the chairs by the fireplace, and a family takes up the biggest table in the middle of the room.
One girl among the larger group looks up and waves at Luke, lifting her shoulder forward and batting her eyelashes.
Luke smiles politely and continues to escort me to the counter.