smile, I look up at him and reply.
“Sure, ice cream would be great.”
He nods and smirks at me as if he knows what I was just thinking and finds it amusing. I’m unwittingly providing all sorts of entertainment for him tonight. I look away from him, focusing instead on his shirt, which, by the way, does amazing things for his chest. With a gentle tug, he pulls us into motion, leading us inside the ice-cream shop where we both order cones. We stroll down the riverfront in companionable silence, and I can’t help but think that this feels more like a date than it should. Further proof that Oliver exists solely to mess with my head.
“I think it’s going to be really beautiful.”
“What?” I question, feeling like I’ve just missed something.
“You asked earlier about the hotel. I think it’s going to turn out really well. It’s coming along nicely.”
“When will it be done?”
“Not soon enough,” he mutters with a hint of contempt, and I don’t know why, but it hurts me. I know. Deep down, I know that I mean nothing to him, that finishing this job and going back to New York are the most important things to him, but it still hurts to have it confirmed.
“Is it that horrible for you here?” I ask quietly, trying to disguise any emotion that may be lingering in my tone.
“No.” He responds immediately, coming to a stop and pulling me down to sit next to him on an empty bench. “I didn’t mean it like that, Riley.”
“It’s okay; you don’t need to explain anything to me.”
“What I meant,” he begins, “is that it’s not soon enough for my family. My father and brother wanted me in and out of Savannah and onto the next project in a matter of weeks. Anything outside of that timeframe is unacceptable to them, but they don’t realize what this job is like. They don’t actually see the shitholes that they send me to, or the extent of the work that has to be done to get them up to standard. It’s a high-pressure, thankless job.”
His openness and honesty floor me. Having him sit here next to me and tell me something real—share something about his life, his work, his family that obviously bothers him—is unexpected. But hearing him talk about how they make him feel makes me sad for him. I’m sad that he doesn’t have the support he needs from the people who should give it unconditionally.
“Have you talked to them about it? Showed them what it takes to do your job?”
“They don’t care.” He shakes his head at me. “They only see the bottom line, Riley. The money they could be making by charging Parker Hotel prices but aren’t because I haven’t done my job fast enough.”
I cross my leg in his direction, causing our knees to brush. Any onlooker would think that we were just a normal couple out for a stroll.
“Well, you can’t make miracles happen. It takes a lot of work to remodel an entire hotel.”
“Yeah,”—he shrugs his shoulders—“ you tell them that.”
“How’d you end up doing this job anyway?”
“My brother is next in line to take over the family business that was never mine to have. I could have been VP of something or another, but the thought of sitting in an office in New York doing some mundane job every day held no appeal to me. At least, this way I get to travel, and the added bonus is that I get away from the family drama.”
“Well, they sound awful, and that’s saying something because you’re already pretty awful.” I smirk, trying to lighten the mood.
“Ohhh, really?” he says with a chuckle. “I’m awful, huh?”
“Little bit.”
“Yeah,” he agrees with a tug of my hair. “I guess I have been pretty awful to you.”
I stare into his eyes, and for a moment, I think that it would be so easy to get lost in them forever. Awful or not, there’s just something about him.
“I’ll try not to be so awful from now on,” he says, just as his lips connect with mine and he begins to kiss me soft, slow, and sensually. It
“Sure, ice cream would be great.”
He nods and smirks at me as if he knows what I was just thinking and finds it amusing. I’m unwittingly providing all sorts of entertainment for him tonight. I look away from him, focusing instead on his shirt, which, by the way, does amazing things for his chest. With a gentle tug, he pulls us into motion, leading us inside the ice-cream shop where we both order cones. We stroll down the riverfront in companionable silence, and I can’t help but think that this feels more like a date than it should. Further proof that Oliver exists solely to mess with my head.
“I think it’s going to be really beautiful.”
“What?” I question, feeling like I’ve just missed something.
“You asked earlier about the hotel. I think it’s going to turn out really well. It’s coming along nicely.”
“When will it be done?”
“Not soon enough,” he mutters with a hint of contempt, and I don’t know why, but it hurts me. I know. Deep down, I know that I mean nothing to him, that finishing this job and going back to New York are the most important things to him, but it still hurts to have it confirmed.
“Is it that horrible for you here?” I ask quietly, trying to disguise any emotion that may be lingering in my tone.
“No.” He responds immediately, coming to a stop and pulling me down to sit next to him on an empty bench. “I didn’t mean it like that, Riley.”
“It’s okay; you don’t need to explain anything to me.”
“What I meant,” he begins, “is that it’s not soon enough for my family. My father and brother wanted me in and out of Savannah and onto the next project in a matter of weeks. Anything outside of that timeframe is unacceptable to them, but they don’t realize what this job is like. They don’t actually see the shitholes that they send me to, or the extent of the work that has to be done to get them up to standard. It’s a high-pressure, thankless job.”
His openness and honesty floor me. Having him sit here next to me and tell me something real—share something about his life, his work, his family that obviously bothers him—is unexpected. But hearing him talk about how they make him feel makes me sad for him. I’m sad that he doesn’t have the support he needs from the people who should give it unconditionally.
“Have you talked to them about it? Showed them what it takes to do your job?”
“They don’t care.” He shakes his head at me. “They only see the bottom line, Riley. The money they could be making by charging Parker Hotel prices but aren’t because I haven’t done my job fast enough.”
I cross my leg in his direction, causing our knees to brush. Any onlooker would think that we were just a normal couple out for a stroll.
“Well, you can’t make miracles happen. It takes a lot of work to remodel an entire hotel.”
“Yeah,”—he shrugs his shoulders—“ you tell them that.”
“How’d you end up doing this job anyway?”
“My brother is next in line to take over the family business that was never mine to have. I could have been VP of something or another, but the thought of sitting in an office in New York doing some mundane job every day held no appeal to me. At least, this way I get to travel, and the added bonus is that I get away from the family drama.”
“Well, they sound awful, and that’s saying something because you’re already pretty awful.” I smirk, trying to lighten the mood.
“Ohhh, really?” he says with a chuckle. “I’m awful, huh?”
“Little bit.”
“Yeah,” he agrees with a tug of my hair. “I guess I have been pretty awful to you.”
I stare into his eyes, and for a moment, I think that it would be so easy to get lost in them forever. Awful or not, there’s just something about him.
“I’ll try not to be so awful from now on,” he says, just as his lips connect with mine and he begins to kiss me soft, slow, and sensually. It
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