Page 43 of Savage Suit

Pushing away my fears, I mustered bravery and pressed answer, my heart pounding as I waited for him to speak.

“Ryan,” he greeted, his tone emotionless. “How are you?”

Fucking horrible.

“I’ve been better, but I know you didn’t call to ask me how I’m doing. What’s up?” I rushed out, wanting my theory to be wrong. Wanting this phone call over. Damn, wanting a do-over for the entire day.

“Smart girl. I regret to inform you that Sauncier is no longer hiring.”

Even though I suspected the reason behind his impromptu call, his words crushed me.

“Not even secretaries?” I squeaked, my voice shaky, the events of the day overwhelming me.

“Unfortunately, not. I wish you the best in your professional endeavors.”

Before I replied, the line went dead, raising my frustration even more. I wanted to scream and cry and curse. Instead, a stupid fucking tear rolled down my cheek. I was crying in the middle of a mechanic’s shop.

Of all the places to have a breakdown.

Angrily, I swiped at the stray tear and dropped my phone back in my purse. Walking to one of the plain black chairs, I plopped down into it and planted my face into my hands as more tears flowed.

As much as I disliked Paul, a position at Sauncier was precisely what I needed to get back on my feet. By month’s end, my coffers would be depleted. A few days ago, I’d forecasted being out of this financial hurdle by next month. Yet, the universe had other plans for me.

“Are you okay?” The man’s voice was familiar.

I swiped at my eyes and nodded, despite being anything but ‘okay’. “Today has been a little rough.”

I looked toward the voice, my eyebrows raising as I recognized the bartender from last week. He stood near the two vending machines, feet away from the small sitting area. Clearing my throat, I waved at him, searching for another topic to change the focus. “Ian, right?”

Recognition dawned in his eyes, and he nodded, a grin curving his lips. “That’s right. You’re…Ryan?”

“Yep. How long have you been standing there?”

“A few minutes,” he said, walking over to the seating area with a can of Pepsi in hand. Plopping down next to me, he opened the can and swigged before placing it on the small table next to his chair. He stared at me, curiosity in his mahogany brown eyes. “Do you wanna tell me why you were crying in the middle of a repair shop?”

My cheeks heated, and I once again placed my face into my hands, embarrassed. Before I answered, Ian spoke again.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you; I’m just curious and concerned.”

“It’s okay,” I mumbled through my hands. After several seconds, I huffed out a breath. My arms fell to my sides. Hoping the mortification I felt didn’t show in my expression, I faced Ian. “Excuse my language, but today has been shit.”

He laughed, his mouth opening just wide enough for me to glimpse his tongue piercing, his amusement bringing a genuine smile to my face.

He grinned. “Care to elaborate?” he drawled.

Another deep sigh escaped me, and I shook my head. “Where do I even begin?”

“Wherever you’d like, darlin’. I’m all ears.”

Not since my mother’s death had I heard that. Usually, I was the earpiece for Quinn and Logan. His words unleashed a firestorm. I listed the ways the day fucked me over. Awakening to the unwelcome news of my sister’s text, the shitty news article, and everything else, until Ian approached me.

He inserted the occasional “shit” or “damn,” while I ranted. His eyes remained on me, and he nodded as I vented.

“Damn,” he said once I finished, shaking his head in sympathy. “That’s a lotta shit. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t cause it.”

“True, but I can still extend my condolences to you.”