She was once again struck by his size, and the sheer magnitude of his charisma, which seemed to radiate outward from him like a visible aura. He was magnetic, and every time his eyes met hers, she found herself struggling to string a sentence together.
“I’m telling the truth,” she lied.
His eyes narrowed, and she thought for sure that he’d seen through her.
But then the ghost of a smile crossed his features. “What’s your name?” he said.
“Krista.”
“Krista…”
“Krista Everett.” That much, at least, was true. She’d already thought about whether it was safe to tell him, and she was fairly certain that none of her information was on the UFF website or in any public domain. After all, the job was brand new and she’d barely had time to decorate her office, let alone hit the social media circles with the news.
She thought it unlikely that Gunner would do an in-depth web search on her name, but just in case, she would make sure to wipe out any association between her name and the UFF tonight, as soon as she got someplace with Wi-Fi.
This is bad, Krista, a little voice said in the back of her mind.
But she couldn’t help it. She finally saw a glimmer of hope—not just hope that she might be able to salvage her job, or perhaps convince Gunner not to blow up his entire career that he’d worked so long to build, but also that she might continue to be around him.
She didn’t want this to be the last time she ever saw him. And somehow, that was more important than anything else.
Gunner walked closer and closer to her, to the point where she could see the tiny beads of sweat on his forehead, the mud caked on his work boots. He studied her as he ran a hand through his fine brown hair. “Listen to me,” he said.
“I’m listening,” she managed. This near to him, it was difficult to even breathe, let alone speak.
“I’ll take a few hours tomorrow and talk to you. But I’m not promising anything.
Whatever you might imagine I can do for you—I can’t. I’m just a guy like anybody else.”
“Can we talk now?” she said.
“No.” His eyes didn’t waver, and he didn’t bother saying why he wouldn’t do it now.
There was an awkward silence, and she looked away. “That’s fine, I was just thinking it might be easier to get it over with.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he reiterated. “Do you go to school nearby?”
Her mind stalled, as she couldn’t seem to recall what colleges were in the area.
She opened her mouth like a fish out of water. “Yeah, I—I’m not sure you want to come to my school. That would create pandemonium,” she said, struggling to give herself time to come up with an excuse.
He laughed. “I wasn’t planning on coming to your school,” he said. “I just wanted to find a good location to meet with you.”
“I’m actually staying nearby,” she said.
“Where?”
“I got a room at the Middle River Inn.”
Gunner’s brow furrowed. “Why would you bother doing that? I thought you went to school around here.”
Finally, it occurred to her. “I go to school in Boston, so it’s a pretty long drive and I wanted to give myself some time to find you and…”
He shook his head, seemingly bemused by her persistence. “Okay, let’s keep this simple. Why don’t we meet for coffee at the Inn—they have booths with decent privacy, and if we start early enough, there shouldn’t be many people around. Let’s shoot for eight o’clock.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “That would be fantastic,” she said.
“I’ll give you the interview,” he said. “But if I don’t like where it’s going, I’ll pull the plug, Krista.”
“I understand.”
“As long as we understand each other.”
She nodded and turned to go to the car.
“Krista,” he called out.
She turned around and found him staring at her. “Yes?”
“Don’t screw me on this,” he said. “I’m taking a big risk in trusting you.”
“I won’t,” she said, but her voice faltered a little bit.
After all, she already had.
***
The Middle River Inn was more like an old colonial house than anything else.
There was a small front desk area that could have passed for a coatroom, and the older couple that ran the place were charming and friendly people.
“Are you in town for the fall festival?” Shelly, the wife asked, as she took Krista’s credit card and ran it through a machine that looked hundreds of years old.
“Among other things,” Krista said, not wanting to be pinned down to any one particular reason.
That’s the life of a liar, she scolded herself.
Shelly smiled warmly. “People come from all over for the fall festival. We have the biggest pumpkins in the country!”
Her husband, Ben, was somewhat hard of hearing. He wore glasses and seemed to do a lot of little maintenance things. At one point, he wandered by with two light bulbs in his hands. Then he looked down. “Now which is the old one and which is the new one?” he said aloud, and then kept going.
“Does the restaurant open early?” Krista asked, as Shelly handed her the room key.
“Six o’clock sharp, every morning. Cole runs it like a Swiss watch. Very efficient, best coffee in town.”
“Perfect,” Krista replied. Of course, best coffee in town didn’t mean much when it was also the only coffee in town. But she kept that comment to herself.
She made her way up to her room on the second floor. It was serviceable, and the room smelled clean, even if the wallpaper looked like it was from the 1800’s.
There was a small desk, a wooden chair, a bed and an old-fashioned TV on a stand by the wall. Krista went to the window near the desk and looked outside. She could see Main Street below, and a few cars passed by as she watched through the glass.
It really was a cute town, even if it was way too small for her. She preferred the glitz and glamour and excitement of Vegas.
Pulling out her
