Nerd Girl (35 page)

He looked thoughtful and rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “That’s not a bad idea. You know you could easily find contract work through your network. I could help find you some. I think your main challenge is that MS is getting tighter now with contracting/vendor companies. We have preferred lists, but there are still ways to get around it.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve heard the same thing. I’m still thinking of getting my own business license next week, though.” I looked up at him tentatively. I hadn’t shared this idea with anyone yet. He was the first. I wasn’t sure how it would be perceived, especially by someone in his position.

He eyed me suspiciously, but the edges of his mouth were slightly turned up. “It sounds like this is more than just a fleeting idea?”

“Maybe, but it never hurts to be prepared.” I shrugged my shoulders, trying to give off an air of nonchalance. The truth was that I wasn’t entirely sure it would be that easy. I’m sure I was greatly simplifying what it took to start a business. What if I failed at it? Even with Ryan, I didn’t want to show my fear of failure just yet. “I’ll try a few informational interviews for other positions at MS and see how that route goes first.”

At MS, if you want to change jobs internally, you can learn more about a prospective position by scheduling an informational interview with the hiring manager. If there’s mutual agreement that the job is a good fit, then a formal interview loop gets set up. It’s sort of like a first date.

“You know, I could really help you; if that’s the direction you want to go. I could send out some feelers and find some good vendor contract roles for you.” He seemed to have ignored my last statement, still focused on fixing the problem. “Even though technically I’m not supposed to,” he said coyly.

“I appreciate it. We’re jumping the gun though.” My stomach growled and he looked down towards the noise and chuckled. “I think I need to focus on something else right now,” I said, breathing in the scent of garlic and butter.

Ryan laughed. “All right. I know when I’m being redirected.” He kissed me on the forehead before grabbing the hot pads for our pot of clams.

I woke up with Ryan’s body pressed against me. My back was spooned against the front of his body and his arms and legs surrounded me. He was still asleep, so I listened to his light snores and felt his steady breath on my hair. I could feel his morning erection behind me, which made me smile as I remembered the night before.

After dinner last night, we had gotten tipsy and happy and singing along with Van Morrison. One of my all-time favorite songs is
Into the Mystic
. When I told Ryan this, he stood up in the middle of the room and held out his hand, pulled me into his body, and we danced. It was one of the most romantic moments of my life. The other most romantic moment of my life was when Ryan surprised me at Anna’s wedding and kissed me in the lobby. Twice in one week, he’s managed to top my list of best moments ever.

We took our time making love last night. I knew from the first time we had sex together, that we were sexually compatible; very compatible. I relished this phase in a relationship when all you wanted to do was explore one another’s bodies; when making love was about discovery. I wanted to know what made him feel good, what turned him on. Where were his erogenous zones? Ryan was attentive and a good listener, an excellent and giving lover. I came three times over the course of the evening and in between our lovemaking sessions, we reveled in each other’s company, talking late into the night. We shared more stories about our families, our childhoods, travel, and random thoughts about the universe. I think it was intentional on both of our parts, but we avoided the topic of Catherine.

Remembering last night made me want to stretch out my sore muscles. I instinctively did just that, waking Ryan up in the process.

“Good morning,” he mumbled in my ear. One hand reached over to cup one of my breasts. He nuzzled in closer and fit his morning erection into the dimple between my cheeks.

I pressed my ass against him in response, eliciting a soft moan from his throat.

“How did you sleep?” he murmured, his warm lips kissing my shoulder.

I started to squirm and giggle because he was lightly nipping the back of my neck with his teeth and it tickled. I turned to look at him. “Ryan, I love you.” I don’t know why I was inspired to blurt this out right there and then, but I felt so warm, so safe, so deliriously happy that I couldn’t contain the emotion. Even though it wasn’t my first time telling him I loved him, I still felt a nervous energy whenever I said it. I had bared myself to him so completely and I wanted him to know how I felt all the time.

He turned me to face him. I rolled over to gaze into his soulful blue eyes and sucked in my breath as I saw the depth of his emotions.

Ryan pulled me in and kissed me deeply and thoroughly. “I am crazily and madly in love with you, Julia Hayes.”

I was so in love with this glorious man and by some miracle, he loved me, too.

Later that morning, we met Ryan’s real estate agent for breakfast at the Hotel de Haro restaurant. Ryan wanted to invest in a vacation home and it was a good time to buy due to the low housing market. His agent was planning to show him several vacation properties for sale.

Renee Highland was already seated with a latte when we arrived. She was an attractive woman in her mid-to-late thirties with long, blond, Barbie hair. Her arms were chiseled and wickedly toned; I couldn’t help staring. She was wearing beige linen pants and a white summer blouse and looked both professional and casual, a good combination for showing someone homes on a vacation resort island. As we approached the table, she stood and greeted Ryan with a hug, which I noticed seemed to linger longer on her end than his. I spotted well-manicured red nails as her hand still lingered on Ryan’s arm.

She eyed me curiously, a little surprised to see Ryan with a guest or maybe because it was me; I wondered if she was expecting Catherine. I gave her credit for being discrete enough not to comment. Ryan introduced the two of us, and after a polite handshake, her attention was focused solely on him. I disliked her instantly.

The rest of our breakfast meeting entailed Renee giving Ryan the rundown of the three properties we were about to go see. All three were waterfront homes and each was priced at over a million dollars. I couldn’t help wondering how much a CVP made at MS—apparently enough to own two multi-million dollar homes.

Okay, make it three homes. He already owned a small one on Whidbey Island and had a property management company maintaining it. He wanted to do the same here, and if things went well with the San Juan Island property, he would be interested in potentially buying more properties on the island or one of the other islands surrounding it.

Renee was a touchy person. Not mood touchy, physical touchy. She touched Ryan’s arm lightly several times during their conversation and kept her body angled in his direction. She laughed almost too quickly and too loudly at anything remotely humorous and often flipped her hair back over her shoulders.
She was totally hitting on him! The nerve of that bitch!

She never asked for my opinion, making the assumption that I was not involved in the decision. Even though this was true, Ryan still made a point of including me in the conversation several times. He was so sweet, allowing me to view all the photos and ensuring that their conversation wasn’t boring me. I appreciated his efforts and it left me with a warm, smug feeling inside. Despite this woman’s overtures towards Ryan, he was clearly only interested in the properties and me.

Since Ryan and I had no vehicle on the island, we rode in Renee’s car, a black Mercedes, to tour the homes. The first property was located only five minutes from Roche Harbor, on Westcott Bay, which was famous for its oysters. We drove along the narrow road that followed the southeast coast of the bay and I sighed as Renee turned onto a long driveway lined by cherry trees. At the end of the driveway sat a lovely, Northwest-style, multi-story home. Stone masonry surrounded the entry and the roof was made of green metal. The house looked like something straight out of
Sunset
magazine.

I consulted the house marketing flyer as she ushered us in. This home had three bedrooms and two full bathrooms. It was furnished with cozy rustic furniture, the kind you would see in a luxury ski resort, and there was a lot of stone and dark wood, which I thought was lovely. The living room had a beautiful fireplace with more stone that reached all the way up to the vaulted ceilings. The most stunning and immediately noticeable feature of the home was the floor-to-ceiling rear window, showcasing a pristine and calming view of the bay. It reminded me a bit of Ryan’s home back in the city.

Ryan took my hand and I followed as Renee led us out to the deck. Stairs to the left of the deck opened to a winding dirt path that led to another, lower deck about twenty feet below where we now both stood. There was plenty of room for the outdoor dining table, the swing bench, and a few other chairs already positioned on the deck. From the lower deck, another set of stairs went further down another twenty feet or so, where we finally met the rocky beach. Renee said that when the tide was at its highest, the water would come almost up to the bottom step. Thankfully, she left us alone and headed up to the house so that Ryan and I could have some time to discuss the property or maybe to just enjoy the view ourselves.

“What do you think?” Ryan asked.

“The home is lovely. The view from the deck is breathtaking. If I owned it, I would never want to leave.”

“Good. I’d like to spend more time up here.”

“What do you think?”

“It’s fantastic. It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for. I love the privacy here and it’s quiet. You don’t get as much traffic on this bay. We could easily dock the boat out there.” He pointed towards the buoys in the distance.

I couldn’t help notice that he said
we
.

Ryan had explained to me on our boat ride over to the islands that he wanted to purchase a vacation home, but then rent it out during the year on the weeks that he wouldn’t be visiting. It was a win-win for him—an investment, a vacation home, and he could make a little money offering it as a rental.

The second option was closer to Friday Harbor. We passed a large meadow filled with wildflowers as we drove down the long driveway. This home was older than the one we’d just come from and there were a few trees surrounding it. It was all wood, painted blue with white trim, and boasted the most fabulous wraparound porch. With the meadow out front and a cobblestone garden path leading up to the front steps, the home reminded me of one of the many cute B&B farmhouses around the island. It even had a porch swing that brought visions of drinking coffee on a lazy Sunday morning. When we walked to the back of the house and then further down to the beach, I watched a ferry arriving in the distance.

I wasn’t impressed with the interior, though. It was clean and well taken care of, but the style of the decor was clearly country. I envisioned the current owners as older, and at least one of them was into flowers, based on the wallpaper selections. I supposed it could be remodeled to reflect more modern tastes. If Ryan’s current home was an indicator of his tastes, my guess was that this one wouldn’t be his favorite.

As if he could read my mind, he grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s go.”

Apparently my assumptions were correct.

The last home was similar to the first one. It was Northwest Contemporary and just built last year. Ryan’s initial reaction was positive and he asked Renee a lot of questions about the foundation, since it was built on a bluff. A lot of this discussion was over my head, so I tuned them out, focusing on walking down the steep incline of stairs that led to the beach. Once we reached the bottom of the stairs, there was long dirt path between brush and trees before we finally made it to the rocky beach. Getting to the beach was somewhat of a hike, but once we you got there, the view was stunning. It wasn’t a bay in a closed inlet like the first home—we were looking at Puget Sound. My attention focused back to Ryan and Renee; I heard Renee say something about being able to see pods of whales in the distance during the summer.