Chapter 20 Your Pay Wouldn’t Even Buy This Bottle
“Ryan, come and sit down.”
Unlike her husband, Diane welcomed him with a warm smile.
He took the seat beside Chloe. Jason started toward her other side, but Andrew caught his arm and guided him into the chair opposite Ryan instead.
The table was covered with food. The Wallaces had brought the liquor: a rare thirty-year-old whiskey.
Richard examined the bottle appreciatively before opening it.
“Thirty years. Quite a find.”
“A friend’s in the business,” Andrew said. “He has an enormous cellar and keeps adding to it. I bought a couple of cases when I last visited. If you like it, I can get you more.”
“If I can’t appreciate this, I’ve no business drinking whiskey.”
Andrew laughed.
“Then I’ll have some sent over.”
Richard poured generous measures for the four men. Jason passed Ryan a glass.
“I hear you were in the military.”
“That’s right.”
“Which branch?”
“Army.” Ryan smiled before the next question could come. “Nothing glamorous. I finished my time and got out.”
“Seems like a waste of a few years if you’re just going to leave,” Jason said. “The starting pay can’t be much more than a couple of thousand a month. Less than a bottle like this costs. And you’re not even guaranteed a job afterward.”
He adopted a tone of concern.
“A lot of military skills don’t translate to civilian work. You end up taking a security job for a few thousand a month.”
Ryan was amused. They hadn’t eaten a bite, and Jason was already laying out his case: no money, no useful skills, no future.
“Finding work has been a challenge,” he agreed. “I hardly knew where to start when I got here.”
Jason brightened.
“Do you have any specialized skills?”
“Not many that apply to ordinary office jobs.”
“Exactly. Being a great shot or knowing how to drive a tank won’t help much behind a desk.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
Chloe grew more irritated with every agreeable answer.
Why was Ryan helping him? If Jason made him sound worthless, he was also insulting her judgment. Her father would only become more determined to break them up.
Under the table, she stepped on Ryan’s foot.
Then she smiled sweetly and interrupted.
“He’s an excellent doctor. Whitmore couldn’t help Grandpa. Ryan saved his life.”
Her gaze shifted toward Jason.
“If he opens a clinic, he could make a real name for himself. People will be lining up to see him.”
“He doesn’t have a medical license,” Richard pointed out.
“Then he can work toward one. With his skills, he has every reason to try.”
Richard couldn’t push further without making his intentions too obvious. He lifted his glass.
“Come on. Let’s drink.”
Throughout lunch, he gave Jason opportunities to shine, asking about his current projects and the work he was doing in the family business.
Jason needed little encouragement. Each answer became longer and more self-congratulatory than the last.
Ryan concentrated on his meal. He offered no toasts and volunteered little. When the others raised their glasses, he joined them. Then he went back to eating.
He seemed completely at ease.
Chloe was furious.
Couldn't he at least make an effort? She knew he didn't have Jason's money or business connections, but he could say something. Anything. His indifference was making her look foolish.
By the time they finished a second bottle, each man had consumed several generous pours.
After another account of his business success, Jason glanced at Chloe. She was still watching Ryan, putting food on his plate and topping up his drink.
Jealousy finally overcame what remained of his restraint.
“Ryan, there’s something I’d like to say, though I’m not sure it’s my place.”
“If you’re not sure, better not say it.”
Jason’s mouth stayed open for a moment.
That wasn’t the answer he was supposed to get.
He forced a smile.
“It’s only some honest advice. We’ve just met, so forgive me if I’m overstepping. But I don’t think you and Chloe are right for each other.”
“I think we’re a great match,” Ryan said pleasantly. “I like her. She likes me. What’s the problem?”
He turned to her.
“Right, Chloe?”
Finally.
She took her cue at once.
“Exactly. It’s our relationship. I love him, and he loves me. That’s what matters.”
Jason looked as though she’d struck him.
“But love doesn’t pay the bills,” he insisted. “This isn’t a romance novel. You need money. A lot of it.”
He turned back to Ryan with exaggerated sympathy.
“She’s used to a certain lifestyle. Clothes, makeup, handbags. Can you afford any of that?”
He let the question hang, then smiled.
“You could save for a year and still not afford one of her bags.”