“Don’t worry. She’s still saying no for now,” he adds, mocking an attempt to placate my murderous glare. Then he smiles as he adds, “Not sure how long it’ll last though.”
I can’t help but be pissed, but it’s not the form of anger I want. I need the old anger, not new rage. I’m not ready for her to move on, even though I know I should let her.
As she stands and walks toward her door, my heart breaks just a little more. She never even glanced this way.
***
BRIN
Work sucks. Again. But at least I don’t have to worry about seeing Rye at the window here. Yesterday he and Ethan watched as I dropped my purse in my attempt to hurry. It’s easy to see him out of the corner of my eye now, due to several days of practice. It’s also pathetic that I’m as good at it as I am.
“Brin?” Harvey Dexter says—my boss and the director of the museum that does nothing.
I look over as he
and a man in a suit that screams money walk toward me. Who is this?
He’s older, but he’s also tall and handsome for his age. His hair is barely dusted by time, and his shaven face is a clean, crisp, version of something familiar. Too familiar. Rye familiar.
Great. Now everyone makes me think of Rye.
Damn it.
“Yes, sir?” I ask, turning my full attention on them and putting my back to the newest exhibit that is slowly wrapping up.
“I can take it from here, Harvey.” The unknown man dismisses the sweating Harvey as though he works for him. Weird.
As Harvey walks off, he throws a questioning look over his shoulder. But I don’t have the answer he’s searching for.
“How can I help you, sir?” I ask, wondering why Harvey didn’t even bother introducing us.
The man smiles as he looks at me, almost seeming proud for some reason. And this is only getting weirder.
“He’s a bit of a worm, isn’t he?” the man asks, looking back just as Harvey turns the corner.
I bite back a grin, but I don’t respond. How can I?
“Um... I’m Brin Waters,” I say instead, sticking my hand out for introductions.
He grins slowly as he takes my hand and shakes it. “So you are. You’re exactly how I pictured you.”
Completely, totally, utterly, awkwardly weird.
“Excuse me?” I ask as he walks toward the Egyptian exhibit with curious eyes.
“I’m the largest silent contributor for this museum. They need my money, so that’s why Harvey was so rattled.”
Is he trying to intimidate me? Because it’s working. I just got nervous as hell. I really can’t afford to lose my job right now.
“Is there something I can do for you?”
I don’t know why I bother to keep asking questions, because he’s apparently only saying what he wants to when he wants to.
“Yes. There is,” he says, surprising me when he finally answers a question I’ve asked.
He faces me and smiles warmly, still seeming a little too happy to see me for my comfort level.
“My name is Rygan Clanton.”