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Penny leaned a hip against the counter. At the same time, she wasn’t interested in a man like Ryan. She had simply latched on to him like a lifeboat in a raging ocean, hoping for a splash of warmth in a dark and frigid storm.
Roman, on the other hand, was a yacht—a magnificent, elusive boat far superior to all the rest. Ryan Anderson would never be a yacht. But what good was a yacht if it was always out of reach? Shouldn’t she choose the lifeboat if the alternative was drowning?
As the coffee gurgled to life, she glanced again at her phone before flipping it upside down and leaving it on the counter. She made her way back to her lifeboat and perched on the bed. Ryan’s fingers stroked her knee, and the simple movement weakened her resolve. But it didn’t eradicate it.
“Ryan, I’m going to be honest with you.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his gym-toned muscles flexing as he gave her a curious look. “Okay.”
“Like I told you last night, I’m not in the best place right now. Emotionally, I mean. I’m trying to get over someone.”
“I was right.” Ryan winked. “It was him that texted you this morning. I know the signs.”
Penny sighed. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you.”
“You can use me all you want. I don’t mind.”
“Just so long as we’re clear, this isn’t…” Penny hesitated. “We’re not, like, an item or anything.”
His grin faded to a more neutral expression, and he shrugged. “Don’t overthink it. We’re just having some fun. Isn’t that what life is all about?”
Penny gave him a ghost of a smile. She wasn’t sure she knew what life was about anymore. Chasing dreams? Finding a soul mate? Living by the rules…or breaking them all?
She shrugged. “I suppose a little fun wouldn’t kill me.”
“Damn right,” Ryan said. “And if it does, isn’t that the way to go?”
Still wondering if Ryan might be onto something, Penny shuffled into the kitchen and hunted for breakfast. She scrounged up a Pop-Tart from the embarrassingly bare pantry and plunked it into the microwave. Penny didn’t own a toaster.
While the sprinkled slab of sugar spun around and around on a paper napkin, Penny’s finger got twitchy. She reached for her phone. Toyed with the lock screen. Eventually, she slid it open.
She pretended that she wasn’t going to read Roman’s email— especially not with Ryan waiting for her one room over—but she didn’t fool herself. Her thumb pulled the notifications bar down to reveal an intriguing subject line. Penny couldn’t resist. She never could when it came to Roman.
Subject: Invitation
From: [email protected] Message:
Dear Penny,
I can explain—tonight, I promise.
7:00 p.m. at the Pelican Hotel. Cocktail attire.
Yours truly,
Roman
TRANSCRIPT
Prosecution: Who was invited to the book club event on February 13, 2019?
Eliza Tate: Well, we had two events that day. The main one—book club—had an invitation list of about twenty industry guests. I’m not sure I remember the entire list off the top of my head, but I’m sure you’ve been given a copy of it.
Prosecution: What was the other event on that date?
Eliza Tate: It was a mock book club. A practice run for later that evening.
Prosecution: Why did you need a trial run for a book club?
