I hung up after Mr. Cooper started chuckling and eventually got out that he’d see me on Friday.
But seriously, I hoped he’d tell his doctor about the snacks we both knew he had no business eating. I had done what I could by throwing stuff away when I found it. Slipping my phone back inside my purse, I sat back up and settled my hands on my thighs, glancing at Rip out of the corner of my eye.
“I could’ve told you he had a doctor’s appointment,” he claimed, steering the truck into a left-hand lane.
I couldn’t help but bite the inside of my cheek and make a face. He could’ve told me? “I wasn’t sure you knew.” Honestly, I wasn’t sure he would have cared enough to know or ask. Then again, based on the things I had overheard, Rip would probably ask Mr. Cooper to bring in a doctor’s note to prove he’d actually done what he’d said he would.
But that wasn’t supposed to be any of my business.
Neither one of us said anything for a while. I looked out my window and sometimes glanced at Rip but really spent the whole time telling my body to relax. I wasn’t going to hold this grudge against him when he had sort-of, kind-of apologized, at least apologized more than anyone else in my life usually had or did. I’d forgiven people for doing worse. There was something going on with him that I didn’t entirely understand, but I could be patient. I could be understanding. Some people just had to work things out on their own.
Most importantly, I needed to remember—and accept—that he was my boss. As much as I might try, as much as I might sometimes wish in the back of my mind, in the deepest, most secretive corner of my soul, that was all there was ever going to be. We weren’t friends, and he had no interest in being nice or polite or being kind.
He was fine not being anyone’s favorite. It wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t what he was ever going to want.
My heart ached for a moment as I sat there, thinking for a second about that thought. About how I’d spent the last three years eyeballing and thinking a little too much about someone who I had no chance with. It was just… admiration. Serious admiration.
But maybe instead of daydreaming about that Louie Vuitton purse I would realistically never save up to buy, I could go to the outlet and get a beautiful purse for a tenth of the price. It would do everything the other one did. The only difference was, it would be within my reach. I could afford it.
It wouldn’t need to be a dream. It wasn’t like I believed in them in the first place.
“You gonna eat that donut today?” Rip asked out of nowhere.
I glanced over at him. Was he trying to make a joke? Nothing about his face looked particularly amused or playful but… “Yes.”
“You’re not on a diet, right?” he asked as he steered us onto the freeway. I didn’t even know where the hell we were going.
If he would have been anyone else—and if my previous thoughts hadn’t been about Rip and his lack of friendships—I would have laughed. Instead, I barely managed not to smirk. “No.”
I mean, I wasn’t as thin as I used to be back when I’d been a teenager. I also worked too much—and was too lazy—to hit the gym five days a week… but I tried my best. I ate decent, some days I ate better than decent, but mostly, I was never going to say no to a donut. Or a slice of cherry pie.
But especially not my favorite donut.
“There a reason you haven’t eaten it then?”
I touched the tips of my fingers along the top of the bag, which had been rolled down. “I figure I could eat it at the auction. I didn’t want to make a mess in your car.”
Those eyes flicked in my direction. “You won’t.”
“But I don’t want to take a chance.” I didn’t need to look around to see that the inside was immaculately clean. He kept the outside beautifully detailed constantly. Even his office was pretty spotless.
“It’s just a truck. If there are crumbs, we have vacuums,” was his argument in that cool, laidback voice.
That wasn’t at all what I was expecting him to come back with. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure, Luna. Eat your fucking donut. I didn’t buy it for you to look at.”
I mean, if he was going to insist.
I unrolled the top of the bag and stuck my hand in to pull out my treat. My treat that my boss had bought me. Because he might have felt a little bad. I thought. Maybe.
Which he should.
Leaning forward, I grabbed my phone out of my purse and hit the camera icon. Glancing at Rip, I noticed he was still looking forward. I took a picture of the donut, attached it to a text message then shoved my phone under my thigh.
“Didn’t know you were one of those people that took pictures of their food,” he said quietly.
Those people. I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling.
“My little sister really likes these,” I found myself explaining, still trying not to smile. “I’m just rubbing it in her face.”
He took so long responding, I didn’t expect it when the question out of his mouth was, “All three of them are younger than you, yeah?”
I wasn’t even sure how he knew I had three in the first place.
“Yeah, three. My baby sister, the one I sent the picture to, will be eighteen in a few weeks. She’s a senior in high school,” I told him, bringing the donut up to my face and taking a bite, just barely holding back a moan at how good it was. “The other two are nineteen and twenty-one, but they don’t live with me anymore.”
The only thing he did to acknowledge that he’d been listening was nod, and I didn’t feel like offering up any more information that he probably didn’t care much about.
He still didn’t say a word as I ate the rest of it, ignoring how that much sugar made my stomach hurt, but too freaking bad.
Just as I was about to take the second to last bite, I paused. “You want a piece?”
There was a huff that had me turning my neck to look at him. The only side of his face I could see was tilted up. “I’m good.”
I finished off the rest of it before he could change his mind. I was in the middle of licking my fingers clean when Rip spoke up again.
“What time you want to leave tomorrow?”
I almost gulped, but doing that would have been a hint of how much I was dreading the trip, and I didn’t want to give him a reason not to go with me. “The service is at eleven. Is seven-thirty fine?”
There was no hesitation at least verbally, but from where I was sitting I could see the way his cheek flexed, and it only confirmed that I didn’t want to make him think twice about agreeing. “Works for me. I’ll pick you up,” he offered.
“Okay.”
Perfect. Just perfect.
I didn’t want to go. God, I didn’t want to go.
But I was and that wasn’t going to change, so I needed to live with it and accept it. There was no point in ruining the day dreading the inevitable. So, I changed the subject and kept my voice bright. “So, is there anything specific you’re looking to buy today?”
It was the right question to ask.
And if listening to him talk wasn’t a hardship, it was only because he had a nice voice.
*
I’d lost him.
Crap!