I want that winner to be me, of course. But for the first time, I realize that I don’t want Ryan to lose.

That’s how this stupid competition works, I remind myself. Xander wants to see which manager can make him the most money, and I doubt he’ll be amenable to the winner hiring the loser when his entire goal is to increase his profits.

Unless…

An idea sparks, and I pull open my laptop and start brainstorming.

—

A couple hours later, I’m in the back room heating up my dinner and working through this potential plan. My phone buzzes with an alert: an email from the organizers of IBNE.

Dear Ms. Klein, we’re delighted to offer you a spot on a panel…

I jump in the air, whooping and fist pumping. I did it! My first impulse is to tell RJ—which I stifle immediately. He could figure out who I am by looking at the conference schedule.

“Are you okay?” It’s Ryan, in the storage room behind me. “I heard you shouting?”

I clear my throat and face him. “Yeah, I…” I shrug and hold out my phone. “I just got word that I’ll be on a panel at IBNE.”

His face bursts into a grin like sunshine. “What? Josie! That’s amazing. Congratulations!”

He takes a step forward, like he’s going to scoop me up in a hug, then seems to think better of it and stays put. Probably a good thing.

“What’s the topic of the panel?” he asks.

“I don’t know yet—they’ll let me know soon. But I’m excited. I’ve been applying for years, and I’ve never made it.”

“We should celebrate,” he says. “We could get drinks—”

“I can’t.” That would be breaking all the rules. “I, uh…need to run some errands after closing. But thanks for being excited for me.”

His eyes track across my face. “Of course. Congrats again.”

Someone calls his name, and he disappears. I pull out my phone to read the rest of the email about the panel, but then he’s back with one of his employees—a dark-haired woman wearing all black.

“Hey,” Ryan says, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Ask her,” the woman whispers, poking him.

“I am,” he mutters to her, then turns to me again. “So, uh, I have a question for you.”

My curiosity is piqued. “Okay…?”

“Do you…” He brushes his hair from his face, then mumbles something under his breath about going on a date.

I blink. A flicker of warmth lights in my chest, like a candle being lit. “A…date?”

“Not with me,” he says quickly, and the candle is snuffed out. “We’re hosting a speed-dating night, and Indira”—he motions to the woman in black—“just told me that one of the women canceled.”