Page 12 of Wrong Place, Wright Time
“I see. But that doesn’t answer my question.”
“You had a question?” I ask, my eyes fluttering as I try to adjust to his presence. I’m finding it harder and harder to do the thinking and paying attention thing whenever Banks enters my realm of existence.
“I asked if you’d like to walk with me to work this morning.”
“Oh. Um. Wouldn’t it take a good hour to walk to your work? I really don’t have time for that.”
Banks chuckles and shakes his head. “I live above the bar if you’ll recall. I have no reason to be on the Upper East Side this early in the morning other than to walk toyourwork withyou.I guesstimate that’ll be about fifteen minutes if we hustle, twenty or more if we take our time.”
“You’re likely to make me late, Mr. Banks.”
“Ah, but I bought you this amazing cappuccino and the pleasure of my conversational skills to make it worth your while.”
Pressing my lips together I look from Banks to the car, knowing which of the two is the smart choice, and which one is purely self-indulgent, if not a bit misleading.
I suck in a breath. “I really don’t want to accept and give you the wrong idea here,” I say finally. As attracted to him as I am, and as much as I’m flattered that he sees fit to continue pursuing me, I can’t in good conscience lead him on.
“I assure you, Isla, I am under no illusions here. You have made your position clear. You’re not interested in a relationship. But I like you, and I’m fairly certain you like me. So at the very least, I figure we can manage friendship. Especially since your brother is dating my cousin’s best friend and we’re likely to run into each other in the future.”
“Friends, you say?” I scrutinize him with a narrowed eye.
He grins and holds cappuccino out to me. “Friends who enjoy a good coffee and walks to work on sunny days.”
“OK,” I say, wrapping my hand around the warm cardboard cup. “We can be friends.”
“OK,” he repeats, looking over my shoulder and saluting my driver with an, “I’ve got it from here, champ.”
I chuckle at this man’s eagerness to spend time with me, baffled even why a stunning entrepreneur with the world at his fingertips would bother himself with a woman from old money, old technology, and even older ideologies that most of the world couldn’t even fathom being part of. Generationally, my cousins and I all hate the patriarchy that is Wright Media. But with Tanner and Ash out of the company, it’s my two remaining cousins and I who are set to step up when our three fathers retire. Maybe then things can change. Maybe then, Wright Media can use its power for good instead of the attainment of more wealth and the willful enablement of ignorance.
But maybe that’s a pipe dream.
“You seem very deep in thought,” Banks says as we finish crossing the street and head toward East 79thStreet. We’ve been making small talk about how business has been at his bar, along with how heavy my workload has been lately with a few tidbits about my family and his thrown in to round it out. He and his cousin, Darren, seem quite close.
“I was just thinking that it’s been so long since I’ve walked to work. I’m so used to walking out of the door and getting straight into a waiting car that I fear I’ve grown spoiled.”
“Heels hurting you already?” he asks, nodding toward my red-bottomed shoes.
“No.” I laugh. “I was probably born able to walk in these without effort—something about breeding, my mother would have said—so it’s definitely not the heels. It’s more that I forget how close I live to everything. I really should do this more often.”
“Deal,” Banks says immediately.
“Deal?”
“Yeah. If the sun is shining. I’ll be right out your door waiting to walk with you to work. It’ll be our thing.”
My heart stutters with longing and wanting, along with a warning.Don’t fall for beautiful men and promises, Isla.
“Whether it becomes ‘our thing’ or not is something only time can tell,” I say, stopping outside the entry to my building. “But I will say thank you for the coffee and the company this morning. It was definitely a nice a change.”
“My pleasure, Isla,” he says with a nod and a smile, before he steps back and walks off the other way without so much as turning back.
Ugh. Why do I miss him already?
Isla
Amonth later and Banks is true to his word. He keeps showing up with a coffee in hand and a smile on his face every morning when the sun shines, and sometimes even when it’s not. It’s getting to the point where I feel sad when I wake up to gloomy skies, which kind of sucks for me, because lying in bed and watching the rain streaking down my window used to be one of my favorite things to do. Now, it seems my favorite thing is walking to work with Banks.
“OK, so I think we’ve covered all the typical getting to know you conversations,” Banks says as we take a slight detour since the morning air is particularly balmy today and I don’t quite feel like fronting up to work just yet. “I’ve learned that you’re close with your brother, but not with any of your other family members. That your best friend is also your personal assistant. That you prefer a night in over a night out. And that your favorite food is Chinese takeout.” In turn, I’ve learned that he was raised by his grandmother, along with his cousin, throughout his teen years, after having been branded a troublemaker by his immediate family who didn’t feel they could keep him on the straight and narrow anymore. His grandmother was a harsh woman, but her strict rules meant he was unable to fall into the kind of friendships that would lead him astray. He focused on his schoolwork, got himself a scholarship and then went to work on Wall St with his best friend, Ronan. While successful in his profession, he wasn’t content, so he cashed out and decided to put all of his savings into setting up the bar. It was a huge gamble for him, but it paid off and he’s been riding that high ever since. Oh, and his favorite food is Italian.
