Page 13 of Falling for Mr. Wright

Chloe stood in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear. “Have a good weekend with Mr. Right.”

“Way to be neutral.” Sarah scoffed and shook her head, realizing Chloe was playing with words, given Ryan’s last name.

Her phone buzzed. Speaking of Mr. Wright, she smiled down at Ryan’s text. He was outside. Prompt as always. He’d suggested they leave early to avoid weekend traffic out of the city. She liked that he was in charge today, and she could sit back in his passenger seat and enjoy the trip. No meetings to schedule, no emails to answer, no office parties to plan.

As she carried her suitcase down the building’s stairs and exited her building, Chloe’s words rang in her head. Who was the right man for her?

“It’s Logan,” she answered her question out loud. “Stick to your plan.”

Her heart sped up as she caught sight of Ryan giving her a short wave inside his BMW. He hopped out of the driver’s seat and flashed a crooked smile that easily doubled the speed of her beating heart.

Oh, boy. She was in trouble.

…

“Mornin’.” Ryan met Sarah behind his car and popped the trunk, taking her suitcase. The damn thing weighed a ton. “Did you pack your entire closet?”

She laughed. “Mainly heels and, okay, maybe half of my closet. I couldn’t decide what to wear tonight, so I packed a few options. I’ve never been to a gala.”

He set the suitcase next to his, pausing long enough to enjoy the sight of their things side by side, then gave himself a mental swat. The only reason Sarah had agreed to the trip was to learn more about Logan—information she planned to use to her advantage. Not only was she eager to learn more about their boss, she was probably doing cartwheels inside at the thought of going to Logan’s hometown.

Did she realize it was Ryan’s, too?

He took a deep breath before sliding back into the car. Maybe inviting her to the gala hadn’t been a good idea. What if Logan showed interest in her? His boss was just as much a red-blooded American male as the next guy. Logan could potentially see his assistant in a totally different light outside the office wearing a hot dress and laughing at all his corny jokes.

“Is that for me?” Sarah pointed to the iced mocha in the console next to the black coffee he’d gotten for himself.

“Yep. I picked up your usual.”

She picked up the coffee and took a sip. “Delicious. Thanks.”

He reached behind his seat, grabbing the plastic grocery bag he’d set on the floor. “And these are for you, too.” His sister had made some cinnamon rolls for the trip, serving him up a wicked smirk this morning when she’d handed him the container. “Bridget made them just for you,” he said, leaving out the part where his sister had all but guaranteed Sarah would want to jump him after one bite. She’d been wrong every other time, so he hadn’t gotten his hopes up.

Ryan pulled out onto the street, but Sarah seemed oblivious to anything but the cinnamon roll in her hands. Her first bite was accompanied by a moan that nearly had him driving off the road. “Oh myGod, these are amazing. If your sister were a six-foot-one man, I’d marry her.”

One point to the Wright family. Too bad it went to the wrong sibling.

“Here, have one.” She grabbed another roll, placed it on a napkin, and handed it to him.

“Thank you.” He could easily imagine them spending their weekends like this, maybe taking off on a getaway up the coast, enjoying coffee and whatever pastries he could con Bridget into baking. The idea felt a little too close to a relationship, though, so he shook off the thought. “Thanks again for coming with me.”

“My pleasure. Thankyoufor giving me something to do this weekend. You’ve rescued me from another Saturday night of organizing all of my heels by color and then height.” She laughed. “Although, I did enjoy doing it last weekend. It saves me time when I’m getting ready in the morning if I don’t have to search for the shoes I want to wear.”

“Efficient. I like it.” He’d also like to witness her slipping into a skirt and sliding on her black stilettos as she dressed for work, but he’d keep that fantasy to himself. “Can I hire you to organize my closet?”

She clapped her hands. “Oh, please, let me. I would have so much fun organizing all your bright polos.”

“Hey.” He laughed. “I don’t havethatmany.”

“You have one in every color imaginable. The bright-turquoise polo you sported at last summer’s company picnic was a stunner.”

“My sister bought it for me,” he protested. “I love that shirt.”

“I’m not saying it doesn’t look good. It shows off your blue eyes.” She grinned. “All the girls in the office commented when I brought it up.”

He liked the thought of her talking about him. “Who did you talk about me to?”

“Oh, you know…Nancy and Hillary.”

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