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“Did you mean that?” she blurted.
“‘Hi’? Yeah, sure, I meant it.”
“Not that. What you said to Noah. About me.”
“Oh.” He searched her eyes for a moment. Then he said, barely above a whisper, “I did.”
“Thanks,” she breathed.
Their gazes were locked. She could feel his body heat coming off him. And was it her imagination, or was his face just a little closer to hers than it had been a minute ago?
“Vicky, I—”
“Gotta go! I . . . I gotta go. I have . . . paperwork . . . to do . . . in my office.”
She barely registered Ryder’s—Startled? Hurt?—look before she pushed past him, out into the hall.
Feeling the flush rising on her neck, she gave quick nods to the various staff members who greeted her as she rushed to her office as fast as her heels would carry her.
She closed the door behind her, sat down at her desk, and closed her eyes.
“Paperwork? I have paperwork?!” She swore under her breath.
Still sitting there alone, eyes shut as if maybe the outside world would just disappear if she kept them that way long enough, Vicky jumped when a notification sounded from her computer. She opened her eyes.
She had set up her email notifications to alert her to important emails. Important donors, heads of state, and . . . Davis! This one was from Davis!
She read the subject line: Davis King has sent you an ecard!
An ecard? A freaking ecard?!
She clicked the link in the email and was met with a photo of a puppy with googly eyes pasted over the real ones, holding a bouquet of daisies. The caption read, “Finking of you.” Because puppies can’t pronounce the word “thinking.” Get it? Haha.
At the bottom of the screen a link flashed in obnoxious neon: Send Davis King a thank you for his card!
Vicky snapped. She snatched up her phone and hit “call.”
“Hey,” came Davis’s bright, cheery voice down the line. “Did you get my ecard?”
“Yep.” She didn’t even try to hide her irritation.
“You didn’t like it?” He sounded puzzled. “But you sent me an ecard.”
“I did. To wish you good luck on an important meeting. Not as a substitute for actual personal interaction.”
“Victoria, I-I’m sorry. I guess I hadn’t thought about—”
“Oh, I’m sure you hadn’t thought about it. You haven’t thought about anything but theme parks and licensing agreements and global expansions since the day I met you!”
There was a stunned silence. Finally, Davis said, “You’re right. I’ll make it up to you.”
How, she wondered? Was he going to commission a time machine so they could go back in time to the night of the Pink Heart Ball and make sure none of this ever happened?
She sighed. “No, Davis. I’m sorry. Your work is important to you. I understand that. I’m just having a day. Don’t worry about it.”
“Are you sure? I could—”
“I’m sure. I’ll talk to you soon.”
