Page 22 of The Best Wild Idea
Si.
I roll my eyes and hand the note back to the poor guy.
“You can keep the note,” I tell him. “I don’t want it. And I wish you could keep all these too, but I get it. It’s your job to deliver them to me, which now you have. Fabulous.”
I look at the bags, wondering if I even have enough room in my living room for this many.
“I’ll help you carry them inside,” he tells me, looking like he’d rather bolt as far away from here as he can instead of following me anywhere. “Silas told me not to leave them outside.”
“Well, doesn’t he just think of everything!” I murmur sarcastically, then remind myself again that this guy has nothing to do with our beef. “I mean, thank you,” I tell him, grabbing the bag nearest to me. It has to weigh at least fifty pounds. “Dear Lord, what did he put in here?”
“Not totally sure. He had Katie pick it all out,” he adds, like I should know who Katie is, before grabbing another bag to follow me in. Of course, Silas wouldn’t spend time doing a lowly task that someone else could do for him, like pack eight bags of women’s clothing.
“Who’s Katie?” I ask, heaving another bag over the threshold, wondering if it’s his current woman-of-the-week. Or, let’s face it, his current woman-of-the-hour.
“The stylist,” he answers, grabbing two bags at a time and pushing them over the doorway. I turn to drag them further into my tiny living room which is filling up fast. “Katie is Silas’ stylist. She’s actually pretty cool.”
“Wonderful,” I murmur, picturing some poor girl making it her life’s goal to dress Silas, and now me. I try to imagine the guy I knew in college having a stylist named Katie dress him up daily, but I just can’t. He was way too immature, too goofy, too likable back then to care about such things. Oh, how time has changed him. This is going to be torture.
“He didn’t need to do this. I’m sure I have some swimsuits and whatever else I need in my closet somewhere.” I search my memory for the last time I put a swimsuit on though, and I can’t quite recall. “Sorry you got suckered into delivering these tonight.”
“I’m not,” he says, smiling warmly before lifting another bag inside. “I’m just glad you decided to accept them. Silas has been obsessed with preparing for this trip for months. I’m glad it’s finally here.”
I pause, watching him lift another bag over the small step that leads into my home.
“Obsessed formonths?” I repeat, feeling slightly shocked that he’s spent any attention on this trip at all. Especially if he can’t even be bothered to dress himself, and apparently, now me. “Was it actually him obsessing? Or does he have more people to obsess on his behalf?”
He chuckles.
“I’ve actually never seen him take this much interest in any of his travel. He usually wings it when traveling for leisure, ordepends on the rest of his team to plan work trip details. But he really cares about this one.”
Silas must have taken Grant’s request to heart. It makes me feel a bit pink in the ears, followed by a tinge of longing that feels dangerously close to nostalgia hitting me square in the chest.
I push it away.
“This is the only trip I’ve seen him give a damn —darn— about,” he continues.
I smile at the guy. He can’t seem to rein in his intermittent swearing habit in front of me, which I find a bit endearing. I wonder if his boss minds.
“What do you do for him?” I ask.
“Anything he needs. I’m Silas’ PA. I’ve worked with him for years. You two are going to have a blast, I think. No one in the world does life like that guy.”
I roll my eyes again.That’s what I’m afraid of.
“I tried to get out of it,” I admit, walking back toward the door to grab another bag.
“You wanted to cancel? I can’t even imagine . . .” He trails off, rubbing his forehead. “He would have been fucking pissed. Sorry.Freakingpissed, I mean.”
I laugh, but focus my attention on getting what’s possibly the heaviest bag into the house, unsure of what to say. Silas’ PA is less formal than I’d imagine him being. And it feels a little odd that even this total stranger in my foyer knows more about what I’ll be doing for the next couple weeks than I do. I know we’re heading to Switzerland first, but I have no clue what’s on the agenda once we get there. I suppose that’s where Katie’s handy packing list comes in.
“That’s all of them,” he says after double-checking my empty porch.
I study the eight bags now filling my living room, imagining the type of clothing and gear Silas’ assistant picked out for me.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “What’s your name by the way?”
“Ryan.” He smiles brightly. “And no need to thank me. I should be thanking you for helping me keep my job.” He gives me a sideways grin. “Silas might have killed me if I came back with them.”
