Page 46 of Resonance

“No sense in denying a shoe that fits.” Ryder chuckled. “Vanity. Greed. They get a bad rap. People forget they have their upsides, too.”

I’d admired that about him, his willingness to own the good and the bad, to lean into his Achilles’ heels.

“Think about it,” he repeated as I gestured toward the door. He could see himself out. “If I don’t hear from you before two tomorrow, I’ll consider it tabled for now.”

As Ryder strolled toward the door, he glanced around the office again, and the way his gaze raked the corners, the piles of papers on the desk, and the file cabinet, suggested he was looking for something specific. He paused in the doorway and turned back. I met his eyes and waited for him to get the hell out of there so I could breathe again without feeling like the damn cabinet next to him was sitting on my chest.

And finally, after another handful of seconds, he got the message and shut the door gently behind him.

I swiveled in my chair, twisting the stick on the blinds and watching as he walked out to his truck while I waited for my blood pressure to drop.

It took its damned time.

Chapter 17

“Package for you.” Owen rapped lightly on the cracked door, nudging it wider. I waved him in, and he glanced at the disarray of my desk before setting the box on the edge.

“Thanks.” I opened the folder in front of me again and starting flipping through the inventory sheets, searching for the place I’d left off. Stress pulled my shoulders tight. The back of my neck ached.

Owen lingered until I glanced up for the hovering. “Want me to open it?”

“Nah, I know what’s in there.”

A beat of silence passed. “So what’s in there?” Owen prodded the box gingerly.

“Nothing that’s alive. Quit poking at it.” In truth, I wasn’t sure exactly what was inside, but odds were good it was stock supplies. Some plastic sleeves or binders judging by the size.

Owen snorted. “Makes me think of that scene inChristmas Vacationwhere the grandma comes in with the cat? God, I howled when I saw that for the first time. And then the box starts jerking around, going wild all over the place. Oh man.” His laughter came so unbridled and loud in the quiet of the office that it seemed to bounce off the walls and smack me in the face.

“I remember it vaguely.” A wan smile threatened to break through my surly attitude. I’d been trying to decompress, logically weigh the pros and cons of doing the album and tour against my stubborn reticence and reluctance to get involved with Ryder again. Even if only on a business level.

“What’s the worst Christmas present you ever got?”

“Owen.”

“C’mon, answer the question.” His eyes lit with humor, the vivid green tones taking on a softer warmth. How could I resist?

I sighed. “A pair of socks, maybe?” I considered for a moment, seeing the ugly things in my mind’s eye, remembering the horror of knowing I was going to have to wear them. “My aunt made them. It was back in the days of the puff paint craze. Me and my brother got a whole outfit, but the socks were the worst. These tube things with neon tennis balls, basketballs, footballs, and hearts painted on the side. She was so damn excited about them. Damned if my mama didn’t make me wear them.”

“Yeah, but you were a kid. Probably no one cared back then.”

“I was fourteen. Believe me, I felt it. Aiden had it easier. He was four, so it was cute on him.” Owen probably would’ve liked them.

He snickered as I pushed back from the desk. “What’s your brother like?

I fished around for the letter opener in a desk drawer. “A goddamn mess, that’s what.” Owen’s silence begged for details, but I wasn’t in a sharing mood on that particular subject. There were plenty of other fires begging for my attention at the moment. “Putting down roots, a steady paying job, a bank account, they’renot his style.”

“Oh,” Owen said softly, and as I headed toward him and the box with the letter opener in hand, he braced his forearms in front of him like he was warding off a stabbing attempt. “I was just playing around,” he joked, “I won’t go easily. I’ll fight you to the end.”

“Don’t I know it,” I muttered, and ducked my head before I gave myself away.

Leaning against the file cabinet next to him, I pointed the butt end of the letter opener at him. “I know what you’re doing.” I wiggled the handle. “Go ahead, open it.”

“What am I doing?” He gave me a coy smile as he took the opener and slotted through the tape over the top of the box, slicing it free.

“Fishing, wanting to know what Ryder wanted. Works better if your bait is a little less obvious.”

“Not if we’re talking actual fishing. Otherwise they wouldn’t make Day-Glo orange lures.”