Retreat
Page 12
She did a lot more than that but she would never expound on her own accomplishments and as she glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, I knew she wasn’t interested in trying to impress the overly interested father of two.
“That sounds interesting. I’m in real estate. New York is one of the most competitive markets in the world. I have to be on top of my game all day, every day.” I fought back the urge to roll my eyes as the mom cleared her throat nervously and shifted her fidgety hands from the diamonds on her wrists to the one on her ring finger.
“Yes, Marcus works very hard, which is why we all needed this vacation. It’s going to be so nice to spend time together . . . as a family.” Her last words were a tad brittle and the teen girl jerked her head to the side with a glare, like she had been nudged where no one could see. I watched as she clearly decided to refrain from saying something smart to her mother, and instead narrowed her eyes at her father who was once again tapping away on his cell. The girl shook her head and switched her attention back to the big man at the head of the table with a wistful sigh.
It was ridiculously reminiscent of something out of a bad sitcom and this family was straight out of central casting. This vacation was turning out to be one surprise after another. I was becoming more and more invested in seeing how it all played out. This kind of drama and impending tragedy was exactly what I needed to distract me from my own recent failings.
I swallowed a laugh and shifted my gaze to Cy when his deep voice suddenly broke through the tension surrounding the table. He was looking right at me, and if I wasn’t mistaken, there was a challenge stamped on his face. “What about you, Sunshine? What do you do?” It should have been an innocent enough question, but like every other interaction I’d had with this man in such a short time, it felt loaded and full of subtext I wasn’t sure I fully comprehended. It seemed like he wasn’t simply asking me what I did for a living or how I supported myself, but more like he was asking what I did as a human being. Like he was questioning my worth and value as a woman. The unexpected nickname threw me. It implied the kind of intimacy and connection I was doing my very best to avoid. It was also ridiculous. I was the least easygoing and carefree person on the planet. I was a storm cloud that ruined picnics, not something full of warmth and light.
“I told you that you can call me Leo, and I’m a market research analyst.”
“I’ve never met a girl named Leo before.” That came from the gamer boy and I couldn’t help but smile at his totally baffled look.
“It’s not very common. My grandpa used to call me his little lion when I was a little girl. It kind of stuck.”
Emrys lifted her eyebrows and cocked her head in my direction. “She’s also the queen of the concrete jungle and has a roar you can hear from miles and miles away.”
Her explanation made almost everyone in the room chuckle, including Lane, who must have overheard them as he came back into the room from the kitchen. Once he was done laughing he declared dinner would be served in just a few more minutes. Apparently, the biscuits had burned and we were waiting on a second batch. He shifted his attention back to me and decided he wasn’t done with the conversation about my name. “It’s the hair. It’s the same color as a lion’s mane. I can totally see why he called you that.”
I let out a huff and lifted a self-conscious hand to the curly tresses trapped in the pigtails on either side of my head. Clearly the nickname was fitting for a lot of reasons, though lately, my roar had faded into more of a whimper.
I found my gaze locked on Cy as he tilted his head to the side and considered me for a long and silent minute. “So, you spend your days figuring out how to get people to part with their money, getting them to spend it on stuff they really don’t need?”
I felt my spine stiffen and my fingers involuntarily curled into a fist on the top of my thigh under the table, where I hoped no one could see. I schooled my features into an even mask and nodded in what I hoped was a polite and neutral way. I had heard that my job was manipulative, that it was invasive and calculating, from a wide variety of people. For some reason, I really didn’t want to hear that from him. I wanted to appear successful, secure, confident . . . even if I wasn’t feeling any of those things at the moment—especially in front of him, and more importantly, about my current job security.
My response was cool and as unemotional as I could make it. “I do. I study market trends, spending habits, price points, and consumer behavior. The way people shop, why they choose one product over another . . . it is a science.” I motioned to the meticulously decorated dining room we were in and scrunched up my nose as the smell of fried chicken got stronger. “Humans are programmed to respond to our senses. When a company or a business knows how to appeal to as many of those senses as possible, they will inevitably come out ahead of the competition. For example, if you could put how heavenly that fried chicken smells on your website, you guys wouldn’t have any kind of competition when it comes to booking guests. Their stomachs would book the trip for them.”
“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest thing? I love to hear nice things being said about my food.” A gentle voice, laced with humor and warmth, had me turning my head and my mouth falling open a little bit in surprise as a woman, who was every bit as lovely and as exotically beautiful as Emrys, came waltzing around the end of the table with a large serving tray in her hands. She didn’t look like a Brynn. Her name should be something lyrical and exotic that was impossible to pronounce and spell. She didn’t look like a woman who should be toiling away in a kitchen on a secluded ranch in the middle of nowhere.
“That sounds interesting. I’m in real estate. New York is one of the most competitive markets in the world. I have to be on top of my game all day, every day.” I fought back the urge to roll my eyes as the mom cleared her throat nervously and shifted her fidgety hands from the diamonds on her wrists to the one on her ring finger.
“Yes, Marcus works very hard, which is why we all needed this vacation. It’s going to be so nice to spend time together . . . as a family.” Her last words were a tad brittle and the teen girl jerked her head to the side with a glare, like she had been nudged where no one could see. I watched as she clearly decided to refrain from saying something smart to her mother, and instead narrowed her eyes at her father who was once again tapping away on his cell. The girl shook her head and switched her attention back to the big man at the head of the table with a wistful sigh.
It was ridiculously reminiscent of something out of a bad sitcom and this family was straight out of central casting. This vacation was turning out to be one surprise after another. I was becoming more and more invested in seeing how it all played out. This kind of drama and impending tragedy was exactly what I needed to distract me from my own recent failings.
I swallowed a laugh and shifted my gaze to Cy when his deep voice suddenly broke through the tension surrounding the table. He was looking right at me, and if I wasn’t mistaken, there was a challenge stamped on his face. “What about you, Sunshine? What do you do?” It should have been an innocent enough question, but like every other interaction I’d had with this man in such a short time, it felt loaded and full of subtext I wasn’t sure I fully comprehended. It seemed like he wasn’t simply asking me what I did for a living or how I supported myself, but more like he was asking what I did as a human being. Like he was questioning my worth and value as a woman. The unexpected nickname threw me. It implied the kind of intimacy and connection I was doing my very best to avoid. It was also ridiculous. I was the least easygoing and carefree person on the planet. I was a storm cloud that ruined picnics, not something full of warmth and light.
“I told you that you can call me Leo, and I’m a market research analyst.”
“I’ve never met a girl named Leo before.” That came from the gamer boy and I couldn’t help but smile at his totally baffled look.
“It’s not very common. My grandpa used to call me his little lion when I was a little girl. It kind of stuck.”
Emrys lifted her eyebrows and cocked her head in my direction. “She’s also the queen of the concrete jungle and has a roar you can hear from miles and miles away.”
Her explanation made almost everyone in the room chuckle, including Lane, who must have overheard them as he came back into the room from the kitchen. Once he was done laughing he declared dinner would be served in just a few more minutes. Apparently, the biscuits had burned and we were waiting on a second batch. He shifted his attention back to me and decided he wasn’t done with the conversation about my name. “It’s the hair. It’s the same color as a lion’s mane. I can totally see why he called you that.”
I let out a huff and lifted a self-conscious hand to the curly tresses trapped in the pigtails on either side of my head. Clearly the nickname was fitting for a lot of reasons, though lately, my roar had faded into more of a whimper.
I found my gaze locked on Cy as he tilted his head to the side and considered me for a long and silent minute. “So, you spend your days figuring out how to get people to part with their money, getting them to spend it on stuff they really don’t need?”
I felt my spine stiffen and my fingers involuntarily curled into a fist on the top of my thigh under the table, where I hoped no one could see. I schooled my features into an even mask and nodded in what I hoped was a polite and neutral way. I had heard that my job was manipulative, that it was invasive and calculating, from a wide variety of people. For some reason, I really didn’t want to hear that from him. I wanted to appear successful, secure, confident . . . even if I wasn’t feeling any of those things at the moment—especially in front of him, and more importantly, about my current job security.
My response was cool and as unemotional as I could make it. “I do. I study market trends, spending habits, price points, and consumer behavior. The way people shop, why they choose one product over another . . . it is a science.” I motioned to the meticulously decorated dining room we were in and scrunched up my nose as the smell of fried chicken got stronger. “Humans are programmed to respond to our senses. When a company or a business knows how to appeal to as many of those senses as possible, they will inevitably come out ahead of the competition. For example, if you could put how heavenly that fried chicken smells on your website, you guys wouldn’t have any kind of competition when it comes to booking guests. Their stomachs would book the trip for them.”
“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest thing? I love to hear nice things being said about my food.” A gentle voice, laced with humor and warmth, had me turning my head and my mouth falling open a little bit in surprise as a woman, who was every bit as lovely and as exotically beautiful as Emrys, came waltzing around the end of the table with a large serving tray in her hands. She didn’t look like a Brynn. Her name should be something lyrical and exotic that was impossible to pronounce and spell. She didn’t look like a woman who should be toiling away in a kitchen on a secluded ranch in the middle of nowhere.
