Page 7 of Fight

Lena looked up to see Ian, wearing a pair of dark slacks and a button down shirt loosened at the collar as he resolutely made his way through the tables, his eyes focused on Annie. Lena admired him as he made his way through the crowd, he was definitely a good-looking guy in a bland kind of way with close-cropped, dark brown hair and light blue eyes.

“Hey you,” he said quietly to Annie in an almost mumble as she jumped up and gave him a wild hug. He looked down at her softly as she pulled away and motioned toward Lena.

“Look! It’s Lena!” She spread her hands out like she was showcasing a display of cakes.

Ian looked up, as if just noticing Lena’s presence, his eyes brightening. “Hey, Lena,” he said happily. “Good to see you, and welcome back to Conrad.” He walked around the table and enveloped her in a friendly hug.

“Hi Ian, thanks so much. I am so excited to be here,” Lina gushed as they both sat down. “And thank you so, so much for getting me that interview at the resort tomorrow. I really appreciate you going out on a limb to recommend me.”

“No worries, but it’s really Jake you should be thanking. We both put in a good word for you with Cynthia, the GM, but Jake's the one who really has pull with her.”

“WhereisJake?” Annie asked, looking around the restaurant. “I thought he was coming with you?”

“He's coming,” Ian replied. “He just got stuck talking to Duke about skis in the parking lot.”

Lena felt numb. Jake put in a good word for her? But he thought she was ridiculous and weak. She was still processing her shock when a loud, exuberant laugh made her look up from her confused trance to catch sight of Jake as he walked through the door. He was talking and laughing with a shorter man with long hair and a beard. They stood and talked by the entrance for a few more seconds before the man gave Jake a friendly slap on the back and shook his hand before heading off in the opposite direction, toward the bar.

Jake looked around the room until his eyes landed on their table and locked with hers. Their eyes remained connected as he made his way through the tables toward them. It was as if there was an invisible connection between them, drawing him toward her, and Lena was unable to do anything but sit and wait for his arrival. She felt like her heart had stopped beating; like she had stopped breathing.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Am I hyperventilating? Why am I freaking out? Her thoughts were wild as she was unable to tear her eyes away from the man walking toward her.

Where Ian had been clean cut and neat, Jake was a little rough around the edges. His dark blond hair was a bit too long and curled around the nape of his neck and his ears, and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days as evidenced by the blondish-brown scruff on his face. He wore a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt that really did wonders for his muscular frame, she admitted to herself reluctantly. She could see it had little holes on the ends and on some of the seams, but she appreciated the way it hugged his shoulders and the dips and rises of his muscles as he moved his body lithely through the close tables in the restaurant.

“Well, well, well.” He smirked when he finally reached their table and pulled out the chair next to Lena, sitting down roughly. “If it isn’t Helena Harlowe, Conrad’s newest prospective front desk agent.”

His hazel eyes danced as he braced his arms on the table and looked over at Lena waiting for a response. The artist in her couldn’t help but appreciate all of the paint colors that swirled around his pupils in those gorgeous eyes. She tried to imagine what kind of palette would recreate them: sienna, umber, with some flecks of emerald and ultramarine.

Lena realized Ian, Annie, and Jake were staring at her in expectation while she gazed into Jake's fathomless eyes. She shook herself out ofthatrabbit hole.

“Good to see you” she said with a tight smile, and then firmly added, “Jacob Lewis.” She wasn’t the only one with a full name. “Ian was just telling me that you put in a good word for me with the GM for my interview tomorrow. Thank you so much. I’m sure that wasn’t easy for you.” She grit the words out tightly as if they pained her.

Those beautiful eyes appraised her with a glint of something behind them before he looked down at his menu. “Just make sure you don’t dress like you’re going to the opera. This is an interview. How many suitcases did she drag out here for all those costumes of hers, Annie?”

Lena narrowed her eyes at him, her hackles raised. When Annie said something about her number of suitcases as they’d struggled and laughed while loading them into the car this afternoon, it had been friendly and fun. Jake's question, in contrast, had the undercurrent of something sinister in it.

Oblivious Annie, however, responded as if she hadn’t heard any of that.

“Oh my god!” she gushed. “Four! The ‘small one’ was ginormous! You should have seen us trying to get them into my car today.” Annie laughed, mimicking lifting a heavy bag above her head. Ian looked down at her appreciatively and chuckled at her description and reenactment.

“What are you planning on doing with all those clothes out here, anyway? This isn’tNew York,” Jake emphasized, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I’m going to wear them,” Lena stated clearly and resolutely. “As one does with clothes.”

She flicked her menu up in front of her face and stared at it intently, as if she hadn't already decided on what she planned to eat. “And I don’t thinkyoushould be lecturing me about clothes.” She barked at the words into her menu. “Is that really the nicest outfit for eating out?” She was unable to resist biting that last bit out.

“Outfit?” Jake asked incredulously. “Nothing I own can ever be described as anoutfit. I own pants and shirts. None of them areoutfits. They’re clothes. They cover my body. That's it.”

Lena fumed. This guy. Who cared how hot he looked in his sexy holey t-shirt. Why did he have to give her such a hard time?

“Well, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to put in a tad more effort,” Lena returned. “Or, maybe you shouldn’t judge people thatchooseto put in effort.”

“You’re the one judging, darlin’, not me.”

“Ugh, gross, don’t call me ‘darlin’. You’re such a pig.”

Ian looked down quickly at Annie whose head was bobbing between Jake and Lena’s verbal tennis match.

“So, how was your flight, Lena?” Ian cut in before Jake could respond to the pig comment.

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