“Same for me, minus the fruit.”
“Coming right up.”
“Are you afraid she’s going to do her voodoo magic on you one day and you’ll find yourself strapped down to a woman?”
“Strapped down?” A wicked gleam sparkled in his eyes.
“You’re pathetic.”
“That’s not what Lucy Perkins said last weekend.”
He may have been joking, maybe not. Either way, it was nice to see him smile again. He was crushed when Jenna chose Tristan over him; not that much had really transpired between Jenna and Carter anyway. But it was the first time he actually settled down a little and showed signs of wanting to be in a relationship.
Now he was back to his dating game and flirting with everyone in a skirt.
“I’m not here to talk about your sex life.”
“Right. Tell me what you’re thinking for your website.”
Mia took out her sketch book and showed him some ideas. They stopped to eat when their meals arrived.
The bell chimed signaling a new customer, and Scilla’s loud voice greeted him. “Hey, sugar. I haven’t seen you in a while. You sitting at the counter today?”
“I’ll sit at a table.”
That voice. It sent shivers down her spine, and she hated how she reacted to him. Refusing to turn to acknowledge him, she pointed to the design in her notebook. “What do you think of this as a header?” She took an aggressive bite out of her bagel and forced her eyes to stay on the table and not rotate to her left.
She could hear Carter talking, but his words were drowned out with Thorne’s presence. The asshole took a table right next to them and sat so he faced her straight on.
“Does that make sense?” Carter asked.
“Um, sure.” She snapped her attention back to him and finished her sandwich.
“You okay?”
Mia rolled her shoulders back and nodded. “Yeah. I have a better idea, though. Let’s go back to your place,” she said louder than necessary, stroking her fingers across the back of his hand. “To finish this,” she said softer but loud enough for Thorne to hear.
Carter propped his elbow on the table and cupped his chin in his palm. That smirk on his face told her he knew something was up. With a raised brow, he glanced to his right and then back at her. The smirk grew.
“I’d love to take you back to my place.”
She gave him the evil eye while pasting on a polite smile. “Brunch is on me.” She took out her wallet and put a few bills on the table.
“Kinky. You know how I like it.”
Biting back a laugh, she packed up her things and slid out of the bench, still not making eye contact with Thorne.
“Some men can be such dickheads. I’m so glad you don’t fall into that category, Carter,” she practically purred.
“Baby,” he said, draping his arm around her waist and tucking his hand into her back pocket, clearly loving the charade.
She gave herself a mental high five for not making eye contact with the FBI agent, even though she could see enough to notice the tension in his jaw and the tight grip he had on his coffee cup.
Good. He deserved it.
“You two off so soon?” Scilla called from behind the counter.
“Can’t keep my girl waiting. You know how she gets.”
They left to a wave of Scilla’s laughter. Once they made it to the parking lot, Carter slipped his hand out her pocket and pinned her with his stare.
“Want to tell me what that was all about?”
“Nope.” She found her keys and pressed the fob to unlock her car.
“Who’s the guy? He doesn’t look familiar. Or your type.”
“Dunno.”
“Liar.”
“And here I was thinking you were some kind of sweet talker to the ladies.”
“Okay. We can play that way. I’ll meet you at my place in fifteen.”
“Thanks, Carter.”
“You owe me.”
“I know.”
CHAPTER TEN
Son of a bitch. Ryan knew he was pressing his luck by following Mia to the diner. He’d even waited ten minutes after she got there before going in. What he hadn’t planned on was seeing her with another man.
Carter Marshall. He’d investigated nearly the entire town before transplanting Lily here, and did another round of thorough background checks after she started making friends with the locals.
While Carter wasn’t particularly close with Lily, he’d still been a friend of friends, which made him a potential threat. After Mia’s accident, he looked deeper into her connections and found she and Carter were quite tight.
Ryan didn’t like the way his body reacted anytime he thought about her. Even before they’d had their first conversation on the beach, his gut tightened at the mention of her name.
“More coffee, hun?”
“No, thank you. Just the check.” He handed Priscilla some cash. “Keep the change.”
“Thank you.” She paused then stuck a hand on her round hip. “You got some bright yellow about you.”
“Um, thank you?”
“Mmhm. Don’t overwork yourself or you’ll be suffering ulcers and heart attacks before you’re forty. Loosen up a little and let someone else take control.” She patted his shoulder and walked off to wait on another customer.
Ryan wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it on his plate. Now what? Stalk Mia at Carter Marshall’s house? He didn’t think there was anything going on with the two, but he couldn’t help to be a tiny bit jealous.
Besides, he’d been an ass ignoring her since they had sex in his kitchen. Not that it was ignoring exactly; she hadn’t tried to contact him either. Besides, he was neck-deep in his case and days away from busting Miller and Kaiser.
They trusted him into their circle and had a meeting set up for Saturday night. If he could lay low and not blow his cover for the next five days, he’d have this case in the bag and be on his way back to New York.
Back to his empty apartment. Back to the hustle and noise of the city. Back to meetings, suits, and twelve-hour days in front of his computer.
Fieldwork had been a break from it all. It was what he loved best. And also what ruined his life. Not wanting to relive the pain of everything he lost, he made the decision to go back to his little place on Emerald Pond instead of staking out Marshall’s place.
An hour later and most of his paperwork done, he felt even less satisfied than before. Even though it was a stupid thing to do, he needed to see Mia.
Yeah, that needed word irked him something fierce. He didn’t want to need anything. That was what made him weak. That was when people got hurt. Using something other than his head to make his decisions, he changed into cargo shorts and a polo shirt and headed out to his truck.
It was an adjustment, to say the least. Growing up in the city and living in New York, it was either small cars or public transportation. He loved his Lexus; the smooth ride, the buttery leather, the slick curves, but driving the truck he felt more ... rugged.
More real and less, well, slick. It was fine for a car to be slick, but that was not who he wanted to be, even if his job required it. Working was fine, but the real Ryan, the one he had to live with for the rest of his life, was anything but slick.
The way he left things with Mia was proof of that. The truck took the curves in the road just as easily as the Lexus. In fact, in this beast he was more laid back and less concerned about getting a scratch on it.
Not because it wasn’t technically his—a property of the FBI once he was done using it—but because it was more ... real. Whatever the hell that meant.
It made him fit in more with the town, which was what he wanted anyway. If only he could fit in with Mia.
He pulled up in front of her house and frowned. Her car wasn’t there. The way he looked at it, he had two options.
Wait for her and give her more reasons to accuse him of being the stalker serial killer she liked to accuse him of b
eing, or go back home.
Option three was a possibility as well, but crashing down Marshall’s door would put him back into that creepy stalker serial killer category again.
If he didn’t talk to her today, though, he feared he’d lose his nerve, and they’d never settle whatever this thing was between them.
He heard her message loud and clear when she left the diner. She thought he was a dickhead, and from the outside looking in, yeah, he was. But if she got a look at the inside, she’d go running in the opposite direction.
Which was what he wanted. And didn’t want.
With a reluctant sigh, he turned his truck around and went back home. It was the smart thing to do.
It was the safe thing to do.
He waited three days. That was the best he could do. Screw smart and safe; he needed to see Mia again. Just to make sure she was okay with what happened between them. Having one-night stands wasn’t his thing. Hell, it hadn’t even been night.
Broad daylight and in his kitchen. He could have shown a little more restraint than that. He could have shown her more respect. She deserved that and an apology.
He was an ass. A dickhead, as she accurately accused him of being.
Changing into shorts and a Yankees shirt, he ran through the possibilities again and in the end, sucked up his courage and went to see her.
It was Wednesday, so she’d be at the library. Turning down Sawyer Road and then to Juniper Lane, he parked his truck next to her Honda. He’d driven by the small library a few times while doing surveillance, but he had no idea what the layout of the building was.
He didn’t like this, going in blind. But it was Mia, and she didn’t deserve to be treated the way he treated her.
The steps to the old white building had been replaced recently, the new pressure treated wood not matching the chipped white paint of the clapboard building. A sign by the front door said it was the old town meeting house, and before that was a one-room schoolhouse.
One room wasn’t good. He needed to pull Mia aside to talk to her in private. Opening the heavy door, he stepped over the threshold into a small entryway. A box sat on the floor with a sign noting to drop off donated books, and a bulletin board filled with services offered and babysitter needed signs hung on the wall.
There were two doors to enter, neither with a sign indicating which to enter. All his years of training and field experience told him to revert. To pull back and cancel the operation until backup arrived.
Only there’d be no backup. He needed to do this alone.
Opting for the door on the left, he pushed it open and found himself in a small room filled with books. Made sense since it was a library.
A woman sat behind a desk stacked with more books and an aging computer.
“Good afternoon. Can I help you find something?” She looked at him with speculation. Most likely the librarian knew everyone in town and then some. Probably was the librarian for the past sixty years.
“Just looking, thank you.”
“You have to be a resident of Crystal Cove or Woodbine to check out a book. I can help you set up an account if you don’t already have one.”
“Maybe.” He gave her a polite nod and wandered through the stacks of books. An entryway behind her lead to another room.
The children’s section. This would be where he’d find Mia. He hoped.
A toddler sat at a table coloring while her mother, presumably, held a bag of books on her hip.
“One more minute and then we have to go, okay, Jennifer?”
“Two more minutes,” the girl said.
Another mother was crouched down by her son who was pulling books off the shelf.
“I found it,” Mia said from the other end of the room. “Captain Underpants was hanging around with Goosebumps.”
“Yay!” the little boy shouted, running to Mia.
“Not so loud in the library,” his mother warned.
Ryan stayed by the wall, still unseen.
“I’ll meet you at the checkout, Kaden, and you can pick which sticker you want today, okay?”
Ryan slipped back into the mystery and suspense section so Mia wouldn’t see him and waited for her while she did her job. When the two families left, he stepped back into the children’s section and leaned against the young reader books.
Mia lifted her head from behind the desk. “Can I—” Her gaze met his, and she froze. “Thorne.”
He remained where he was, mostly because he was out of sight from the librarian in the other room. Having a private conversation at the checkout desk would be impossible.
She shifted her gaze to the other room, scowled, then pushed back her chair and marched over to him.
“What are you doing here?”
Ryan lifted and dropped his shoulder.
She stabbed him with her finger over his heart. “Your shirt sucks.”
He looked down at the NY emblem. “Yankees rule.”
“Not in this town.”
Again, he lifted his shoulder in nonchalance. He didn’t want to talk baseball or any sport, for that matter.
They stood toe-to-toe, her stern, pissed off glare only making him more edgy. He didn’t come here to spar. Why he came he still hadn’t figured out.
“What do you want?”
Good question. What did he want? He didn’t want her to hate him, but he didn’t want her to ... want him. At the same time, he wasn’t a dickhead like she’d accused him of being.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted out in a soft whisper.
“For?” She crossed her arms and cocked her hip, challenging him with her stare.
Another good question. He wasn’t sorry they’d had sex. For that he’d be eternally grateful. He was sorry it only happened once, but he couldn’t very well tell her that either.
“You’re mad,” he stated the obvious. Again, he didn’t know why. She’d agreed it was just sex. Her track record proved she didn’t want the commitment thing either. Still, something hadn’t settled well after they’d made love in his kitchen.
Had sex. It was just sex, he reminded himself. He reached out and stroked her naked neck with his knuckles.
“What do you want from me?”
It was a good question, one she had every right to ask.
He had an answer, but not a good one.
Not an honest one.
The honest one he’d keep buried forever. If it came out, they’d get hurt. Especially Mia, and he wouldn’t risk hurting another woman he cared about.
Shit. He cared about Mia. Not something he was ready for. He didn’t know how to get the words out. Dropping his hand from her neck, he swallowed and apologized again.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ve said.” She poked at his chest again, and a light went on behind her eyes. A wicked and flirtatious grin erupted on her lips. “You’re sorry we had sex?”
“No.”
“Me either. It was just sex, right?”
No. It was more than that. “Yes.”
“We’re both consenting adults. There’s nothing wrong with good sex.”
“Great sex,” he corrected.
This time the grin reached her eyes, and she nodded in agreement. “It was good. Could be great. I don’t really remember.”
“I could remind you.” Shit. Where had that come from?
“Yeah?”
Mia had a way of making his mouth move before he could stop it.
“When do you get off work?”
“An hour.”
He reached for her neck again, running his fingers through her hair at her scalp. “Come over.” He dropped his hands and left before he did anything else stupid, like pin her up against the easy reader section and have his way with her.
Damn, the woman made him lose control.
And control was something Ryan prided himself in.
MIA’S BODY WAS COVERED in a coat of sweat during her last hour at the library. Nowhere in her wildest dreams would she have imagined R
yan showing up and propositioning her. It was wild.
It was sexy.
It was stupid.
It was out of control.
Which was not the Ryan she’d come to sort of—yet not at all—get to know. She could read the tightness of his eyes that he was uncomfortable with her. With their surroundings. With their situation.
His apology was sweet, had she understood it. Was he sorry for having sex with her? She was a very willing participant. Too willing.
And too willing once again. Not once had she thought about not going to his house. Hell, she’d been watching the clock for the last fifty-seven minutes, counting down the minutes until the library closed, and praying no last minute families showed up.
“I’m shutting down my computer, Mary Lou. Do you need any help restocking your books?” She worked like a fiend to make sure the children’s books were re-shelved and the play area picked up.
“It was a slow day. I’m done over here.”
They locked up and walked out to their cars together, the afternoon sun still shining bright in the sky. Wednesday was their early day. They opened at nine for story hour and closed at three.
Today, she read a series of books about jungle animals. The boys especially loved the theme, and after, the children made animal masks to bring home. It was cute, and she loved spending time with the children.
Normally she left the library feeling fulfilled and even with ideas for her next story, but today her focus had been elsewhere.
Ryan.
She contemplated checking in her rearview mirror to see how her hair looked, if her eyeliner and mascara—the only makeup she wore on a regular occasion—were still semi-presentable. But if she did that, it would mean she cared.
And she didn’t. This was simply a booty call.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
Maybe less. She didn’t want to think about that.
Fifteen minutes was not enough time for her to get her racing heartbeat in check, and it still beat furiously when she knocked on Ryan’s front door.
He opened it and peered down at her, those dark chocolate eyes revealing nothing. Damn poker face.
“Uh. Can I come in?”
Something More (A Well Paired Novel) Page 12