Page 13 of No Rings Attached
I tilted my cup toward her trying to play it cool even though my pulse had kicked up. “Thank you. How was the B&B?”
“Perfect. Quaint. Comfortable.” Her fingers wrapped around the coffee cup, and I noticed she wore a delicate silver ring on her right hand. I wondered if it had meaning to her or if she chose it based on the ocean wave design.
“Good. We aim to please here in Ruby River.”
We aim to please here in Ruby River?Fuck, could Ibemore awkward?
What was this woman doing to me? I’d given presentations to boards of directors and pitched expansion plans to investors, but put me in front of Ellie Remington and apparently I turned into a bumbling mess.
I unlocked the door, punched in the alarm code, and led her through the first floor of one of the smallest converted original mill buildings in Rhode Island. The space opened up before us, and I tried to see it through her eyes instead of my familiar gaze.
Years ago, my grandfather convinced the town council to let him gut the center of the building to create an atrium. Natural light poured in through the massive skylight three stories up, illuminating the brick and exposed beams. The leaves of the various plants and flora caught the morning sunlight. The ground floor also housed a coffee shop and scattered seating where employees could grab lunch or decompress.
“This is beautiful,” Ellie gasped, spinning in a slow circle to take it all in.
Her face was tilted up toward the skylight, and the way the morning light caught her features made my breath hitch. And the way she moved through the area, the genuine wonder in her expression hit me in a way I hadn’t expected.
Get it together, Kingsley.
“I don’t come down here enough,” I admitted, tearing my gaze away from her to look at the atrium. “But it really is nice, especially in the winter when it’s too snowy to go outside.”
“I bet.” Her fingertip trailed along a vibrant green leaf.
My throat grew dry as I said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m hoping if we get a break in our schedule we can make our way over to the production building where all the jewelry is made. Stairs or elevator?”
“Stairs. I want to get the full effect.” She took a sip of her coffee, and I was momentarily distracted by the red lipstick stain left behind on the white lid.
Do not stare at her mouth. Do not stare at her mouth.
I must have stood there too long, because when I blinked, Ellie’s brow had furrowed with concern. “Everything okay?”
“Sorry. Just … uh …”
Crap.
I had no idea what to say, so I decided to be slightly honest. “I’m just really happy you’re here. In person. It’s different than phone calls and email. It’s better.”
The answering grin from Ellie was worth every second of awkwardness. Her whole face transformed when she smiled like that—open, warm, real.
“Me too. I love getting to see this space and meet everyone I’ve been talking to.”
My heart sank a bit.
Right. She’s excited to be here at Kingsley Jewelry. Not necessarily with me specifically.
Which was ridiculous. She was my assistant, and any closeness I’d perceived about our communication over the past three months—the way she added little jokes or told me about her day, or how our calls seemed to linger even after business was discussed—was likely wishful thinking on my part.
Ellie touched my arm, and the contact sent a jolt through me. “I’m especially happy to see you, Drew.” Her cheeks colored pink, but she kept eye contact even though I could read the nervousness in the set of her shoulders. “Our chats in between work stuff? Those are the highlight of my day.”
The tightness in my chest eased and I smiled down at her. “Me too,” I said, and meant it more than she probably realized.
We started up the stairs to the second floor. The original mill stairs had been preserved where possible—worn wooden treads with an iron railing that had been painted and repainted over the centuries. I ran my hand along it out of habit.
“I love how much history is in these walls,” Ellie said, touching the exposed brick. “You can almost feel the people who worked here before.”
“My great-grandfather worked in this mill before he started the jewelry business,” I said. The story rose up naturally, like I’d been waiting to share it with someone who’d appreciate it. “He used to say the building had good bones. That it was built to last, and anything we created inside it should be, too.”
“That’s a wonderful philosophy.” She paused on the landing between floors, turning to face me. We were close in the narrow space—close enough that I caught the scent of her perfume, something light and citrusy. “Is that why you stayed? To keep that legacy going?”
