Page 11 of Talk Vino To Me
“You’re sure you want me here?”
“I would very much like you to stay. You’re good company. Though it pains me to admit it, but you even made those annoying modules entertaining. Or at least less dreadful.”
“Then I accept your invitation to stay. See you back at the house.” She straps on the helmet, cinching it up tight, and straddles the bike. Dez gives a little wave before riding off into the sunset.
I stare after her, confused. Feels like I misread those signals. Hard.
Except I don’t think I did. Not at all. Something changed after our talk, and I’m unsure of what.
But I’m determined to find out.
Dez
The buzzing of my phone echoes loudly in the early morning silence. I quickly slip my running shorts on and dive to catch the device before it dances off the bed.
“Good morning, Olivia,” I sing.
“How did you know it was me?” My boss sounds amused. “Surely I’m not the only person who calls you.”
“At five in the morning, you are.”
“Oh, shoot.” Her voice turns apologetic. “I got the time wrong. I was just talking to my cousin who lives in Minnesota, and it’s already seven there — anyway, I should let you get back to sleep.“
“Don’t worry about it. I’m up getting ready for my run. What’s going on?”
“I wanted to check in, since I know I dropped this on you at the last minute. I wouldn’t have, except that Ian is a family friend.”
“It’s fine,” I reassure her. “Things are going fine.”
“That’s too many fines in a row, Daisy.” I can practically see her raised eyebrows through the phone. “Now I know something’s up. Tell me.”
Ugh. Darn her for knowing me so well.
However, I am absolutely not telling her.
Liv never takes a vacation. Getting her out of the office practically took an act of Congress. I’m not gonna mess that up. Not when things really are going well. Just because there’s this slight romantic tension between Ian and me, and he asked me out, and I may have had utterly filthy sex dreams about him and his massive…guitar for the past three nights — that doesn’t mean a thing. It’s nothing I can’t handle.
“Don’t be so suspicious,” I say, imitating her stern tone. “Things really are going just fine.”
“Really?”
I slip through the sliding doors of my bedroom and out onto the walking path behind Ian’s house. “I think Ian is doing great. Or he’s making progress, at least. Even if he does tend to mock the Connor Group’s Employee Manuals. He called the FAQs a bunch of ‘corporate horse shite.’ and swore the person who wrote them was a flaming idiot.”
Olivia’s warm laugh echoes through my headphones.
“All right,” she says, amusement returning to her voice. “Now I believe you. That sounds exactly like him.”
“So you’re telling me he’s been cantankerous from birth.”
“Pretty much,” she agrees. “Cranky, but disciplined. It’s how he’s gotten so successful. If you’ll forgive the pun, he’s always marched to the beat of his own drummer.”
As if on cue, I hear the strains of a guitar floating through the air. We’re deep out in the country, and there are no neighbors close enough for us to hear. It must be Ian. Olivia sighs happily.
It’s the first time I’ve really listened to him play since I’ve been at the house. I expected something more rock and roll but he’s playing a piece I don’t recognize, though I can tell it’s in a classical Spanish style.
“So beautiful,” Olivia murmurs.” He’s always had a genuine gift.”
I make a noise of agreement. It’s simply the truth. Ian has an incredible talent. And he’s only gotten better with time. If I weren’t already an enormous fan of his, listening to him play right now would have made me fall irrevocably in like.