by Stacy Wise
“I was.”
“It’s good you have those memories, right? Does that help?”
I nod and cut a piece of tamale not covered in sauce. “Yeah. The thing that haunts me is on the day he died, I was mad at him. He had to go on assignment and missed the spelling bee championships.”
He smiles. “It doesn’t surprise me you were in a spelling bee. Did you win?”
“Yes, but my dad never knew. Gran picked me up from my art class early that day. I was thrilled—I thought she was going to take me to get some celebratory ice cream. Instead, she told me my dad was dead.”
“Oh, man, Katie. I’m so sorry.”
“We were going to call him later that afternoon to tell him the good news. I was going to tell him I was sorry for being mad, but I didn’t get the chance. Every night when it was quiet I’d whisper it to the air, like the dark could send a message to heaven. I wish I could’ve told him.” Pressing my cool hands to my cheeks, I say, “Okay. Sorry. We should talk about something happy. How’s your adorable niece?”
“Adorable. As a matter of fact, I’m watching her tonight. My sister’s mother-in-law has been dealing with some health issues—nothing major—and she and her husband are going to her house tonight to help out, and I get to hang with Sydney.”
“Doesn’t get better than that, right?”
“Right. And you don’t have to apologize for talking about serious stuff, okay? Hell, I told you I have dyslexia when I barely knew you.”
The waitress bustles up to the table, asking if we need anything else. As she leaves, our conversation flows back to the food, and before I know it our plates are empty, and our water glasses have made condensation rings on the table. I dig my money from my shoe and flatten the bills on the table when the waitress drops off the check.
Ryan eyes them. “It’s cool. I’ve got it today.”
I hesitate. “Are you sure? I’m happy to pay half. It’s no big deal.”
He tucks money into the check holder and snaps it shut. “We’re set.”
“It’s because it was in my shoe, isn’t it? You didn’t want to leave the server smelly money.”
He grins. “You know it, stink foot.”
“I’d watch out if I were you. I just may accidentally punch you in the solar plexus next week.”
“Nah. I’ll block it.”
A laugh spills out of me. “You’re incorrigible.”
We reach the front of the restaurant and step outside. The cool air hits me, and I wrap my arms around myself. The wind chimes fill the air with sound, and dust from the dirt lot drifts in circles. Ryan looks toward the horizon. “We’d better move. It’s gonna rain.”
Huddling close, we race across the parking lot to his bike. He opens a compartment on the side of the bike and pulls out a sweatshirt. “Here, put this on.”
“Thanks.” I slip it over my head. It’s huge on me, and I wriggle my arms to get my hands through the cuffs.
He shrugs into his hoodie and looks at me. “Your lips are turning blue.”
“No way.” I bite them, hoping to make the alleged blue go away.
His eyes fall to my mouth, and he smiles. “I don’t know if that’s helping.”
Kissing them would help. My heart races, and I have to turn away.
“Come here,” he says, easily turning me to face him. “You’re shivering.” He wraps his arms around me, his cheek resting on my hair. He feels good. Too good. My pulse quickens, a mix of anticipation and fear. I want to kiss him so badly, but I’m afraid it’ll never happen. And it’s my job to protect myself from disappointment.
I step back, breaking from our hug, but he touches my arm. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about your dad.” It feels like the world around me stops. My breath catches in my throat. He tucks his hands into his pockets and turns his gaze to the gloomy ocean in the distance before continuing. “Your dad knew you loved him. Syd obviously isn’t my own kid, but all she has to do is look at me and I know. When she was born I felt my heart expand in a way I can’t even explain. That picture of you, where you’re running to him? He captured your love there. Even I could see it. He knew.”
Tears fill my eyes. How is it that he knows exactly the right thing to say? Every part of me sizzles with the desire to tuck myself into him for a hug. “Thanks. It means more than you know.”
“You’re welcome.” He tilts my chin up with a finger, and our eyes lock. I should turn away. I really, really should.
But he only cups my cheek, brushing a tear from my cheekbone. “It’s starting to rain,” he says quietly. “We’re going to get soaked if this keeps up. Are you okay riding home in this, or do you want to hang here for a while?”
I search his eyes. “I don’t know. Is it safe to ride in the rain?”
“It’s only drizzling. And I’ll pull back on the speed.”
Don’t pull back on this thing between us. Move forward. “Okay.”
He passes me a helmet, and I manage to get it on, even though my hands are shaking. Once his is secure, he turns and fastens my chin strap before hopping on his bike. “Climb on. Even though I’m going slow, I want you to hang on tight, okay?”
“Yeah. No need to worry about that,” I whisper as I climb on behind him, but I don’t think he heard me over the roar of the engine. I breathe in his warmth as a light drizzle lands softly on my back.
We take off, and I press my body against his. Tears roll down my face, mixing with fat droplets of rain. I’ve never talked to anyone about my dad that way—not even my own mother. It’s been locked in my heart all these years, the guilt and regret eating away at me. The rain starts to beat against us, and I hold on to him, my only anchor in the building storm.
As we head down the coast, I sneak a look to my right, watching the angry gray ocean thrash at the shore. Not many cars are on the road. Any amount of rain in L.A. sends people scurrying for cover indoors, but a full-on storm creates a ghost town. My ponytail is plastered against my neck, and my clothing is drenched, but it doesn’t matter. There’s no place I’d rather be.
Ryan brakes hard at a light, and I startle, my pulse pounding. “Sorry,” he shouts.
I nod, even though he can’t see me, and focus on the road ahead. Maybe he almost missed the light because he’s lost in thought, too. Did he feel what I felt up there? Or is he just a nice guy who doesn’t like to see someone upset?
He slows as we turn onto my block. By now, the rain has subsided to a faint drizzle. He kills the engine in front of my apartment, and I climb off, careful not to slip on the wet asphalt. I tug at my helmet and pass it to him.
He slicks water from it before tucking it into the saddlebag and turns to me. “Lucky for me, you were like an umbrella.” With a teasing grin, he says, “But you’re soaked.”
“You think?”
“Yep. You even have raindrops here.” He brushes a finger along my nose, smearing the droplets and flicking them away, looking entirely too satisfied.
My ponytail drips down my back, and I grab it, flinging the water from it at him like a kid with a squirt gun.
He jumps back, laughing. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?”
I nod, my brows raised, almost daring him to say otherwise. He moves so fast my brain can’t catch up to what’s happening until I’m no longer on my feet, but thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Let’s find a nice puddle for you.”
Laughter spills out of me as I try to wriggle from his grasp. “No way. You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I? You sound pretty sure.”
“I am. Because I’m in the perfect position to bite your back.”
His chest rumbles with laughter as he swings me to the ground. He clamps a hand around my wrist, a devilish look in his eye. “You’d bite me?”
“Not hard.”
“You…” Shaking his head, he steps closer. “You can’t bite me.” Suddenly, our faces are inches apart. His eyes turn serious, and my heart trips into warp speed. H
e slides a hand to my cheek and touches his lips to mine. It starts out slowly, hesitantly, as if his lips are asking permission. My hands find his hair, and I press closer, standing on tiptoe to reach him. My heart somersaults. He eases back, his eyes searching mine. I cup a hand around his neck and tease my lips across his, feathery soft. He moans at the touch and takes over, kissing me with reckless abandon. His hands are on my face, my shoulders, sliding down to my chest. I respond hungrily, grabbing onto his T-shirt, wishing I could tear it off.
He devours me like a wave crashing to the shore, sweeping it back in its clutches. He’s primal. Sumptuous. Beautiful in his need for me. When we part, his eyes are glassy. “You kiss like you punch.”
I laugh. “That’s a good thing, I hope?”
He touches the back of his hand to my cheek, and I press into it, loving the delicate feel. “Yes. I like intense. And you’re all fire.”
The squeal of tires on wet asphalt makes me jump. I was so caught up I didn’t see the shiny black limo heading our way. It slows to a stop next to us. “Oh my God. Oh no.” I press my hands against his chest. “I’m supposed to be in a gown with flawless hair and makeup, buffed and polished for the Children’s Hospital Charity Gala, and I’m in wet workout gear. You have to go. My mom is going to explode.”
He starts to say something, but the driver has parked and is opening the rear door. My mother’s voice drifts out. “Please. Close the door and allow me to roll down the window. The streets are wet.”
He does as he’s told, and I rush to the car. Ryan tries to grab my hand, but I shake it off. This is something I have to handle alone. “Hi, Mom. I’m running behind. I’m so sorry. I’ll meet you there, okay?”
“Katie, sorry isn’t good enough. I expected you to be ready as planned. And who is that man?” She gives me a withering stare.
“It’s Ryan,” I say quietly. “You met him at the exhibit. He’s a great guy.”
“Oh, dear,” she mutters. “I suggest he leaves so you can get ready and fulfill your obligation. I’ll send the driver back for you in an hour. You’ll miss the entire cocktail reception.”
“I’m sorry, but I’ll be there for the dinner. That’s the important part.”
“Both parts are important.” She rolls up the window. The driver throws me a sympathetic look as I pass by.
Ryan stands near his motorcycle, helmet in hand. “Sounds like I’d better get out of here.”
The look on his face makes me wish I could wave a wand and make it so my mom never showed up. I walk to him, never breaking eye contact. When I’m standing in front of him, I take the helmet and set it carefully on the seat before sliding my arms around his hips. “I wish I could’ve told her I wasn’t going to go, but it’s difficult. She has expectations for me, and I’m still working out how to set some boundaries without appearing ungrateful or disrespectful. It’s—”
He eases me into a hug, and I rest my head on his chest. “It’s okay,” he says, his lips to my hair. “Go and have fun tonight. I just wish I could see you all dressed up.” He steps back, and I gaze into his eyes. “And if some fancy guy asks for your number, punch him in the solar plexus, okay?”
I nod. “I had fun today.”
He leans in, kissing me like a cloud drifting in the sky, slow and easy. When he pulls back, he says, “I had fun, too. Now go get ready for your thing.”
I let myself into my apartment, careful to walk a straight line to the bathroom so I don’t make a watery mess. My clothes stick to me, and I peel them off with shaking hands. I flick on the hot water for the shower. As I wait for it to warm up, my mind wanders to what it’d be like if I didn’t have to leave and Ryan had been able to come inside with me. We’d snuggle on the sofa with my fluffy faux fur blanket covering us as we watched Casablanca. Or maybe Rocky. He’d stay for dinner. We’d make something easy, like pasta. Maybe he would find Lauren’s kale and make us a nice chopped salad. We’d sip wine and talk over candlelight, because the storm would gain momentum, causing the power to go out. But no.
I step into the shower, and the hot water washes away the cold rain and the remnants of Ryan’s touch.
With five minutes to spare until the dinner begins, the driver pulls into the valet line at the Beverly Wilshire. Once I’m through the doors, I take my phone from my handbag. I didn’t allow myself to look at it on the drive up because I don’t want to be disappointed if Ryan hasn’t texted me. I look at the screen and rush to sit on an ornate bench outside the bathrooms. There’s a message from him.
I’m sitting here thinking about you and wishing you were next to me. Don’t forget what I said about the solar plexus. ;)
I feel drunk, and I haven’t had one glass of champagne yet. I read the message one more time, smiling at every word.
I’m thinking of you, too. And the way you kiss…
I hit send. Three wavy dots appear immediately, and my heart kicks into overdrive.
You’re killing me.
If only he knew what he’s doing to me.
Chapter Twenty
Three stress balls sit in a line on Kenneth’s desk. I twist my hands, preventing myself from reaching out to grab one. It’s been forty-eight hours, and I’ve heard nothing from Ryan. A million ideas have trudged through my head, each one worse than the next. I even checked the local news, making sure there were no motorcycle accidents in town.
“A couple things. Culpepper settled Friday for a clean mil. A good result, and we avoided filing a complaint.”
“That’s great news.”
He barely acknowledges my words with a slight glance and continues talking. “I need the memorandum on the slip and fall case that I asked you to prepare. Email it to me immediately.” He glances at me. “That’s all for now.”
I stroll back to my office, the events of the weekend still at the forefront of my mind. After emailing him the letter, I send a message to Craig.
Sneaking to the kitchen for coffee. Meet me there in a minute?
Already here. Someone brought doughnuts!!!!
I smile as I walk down the hall. Craig has a half-eaten chocolate-covered long john in hand when I arrive. “These are phenomenal. Patty brought them in.”
Inspecting the box, I say, “I haven’t had one of these since a rough experience with a maple-bacon dough—”
He holds up a hand. “No need to tell me about any fauxnuts. Those should be exiled from any respectable doughnut shop. Notice Patty filled the box with only chocolate, cream, and sugar.”
Peering into the box, I select one with vanilla icing and sprinkles and take a tentative bite. “Oh my God, these are good.” I go in for a bigger bite. “I’d forgotten.”
“Clearly you should eat more doughnuts.”
“Solid advice.” I take a mug from the cupboard and fill it with coffee.
“I try. So how was your weekend? Wait! You had your big date. How did it go?”
“On a scale of one to ten, we’ll call it a one. Sadly, he got drunk and morphed into a lecherous asshole.”
“Ooh. Sorry, hon. That sucks.”
“It turned out okay. I ran into my trainer. He got me home safely.”
Craig perks up. “Your trainer? The guy you had burgers with who you have a harmless crush on?”
“Yeah.” I try to swallow back my smile, but it’s futile.
“I know that look. Spill.”
“The Englishman—Lachlan—only wanted to party and hook up. It sucked. But Ryan was—” I halt, searching for the right words. “He was protective and sweet. And we went for a run yesterday and took his motorcycle up the coast and had lunch and got stuck in the rain. And then we kissed.”
“All I heard was ‘we kissed.’ The rest was the scattered CliffsNotes version.” He cracks a smile.
“I know. I’m all over the place. But when we’re together, there’s this energy between us, like we’re our best selves around each other.” I take a sip of coffee, enjoying the warmth of the mug in my hands.
“That�
��s what I was talking about. That’s the key.”
“I hope so, but what if I’m wrong?” I set my mug on the counter. “What if I’m only imagining our connection, since it’s what I want to believe? He’s very charismatic, so he could just be ‘that guy.’ Do you think?”
“Doubtful. I’m ‘that guy,’ and there’s room for only one of us in this town.” He pats a hand to his puffed-out chest.
“You look like Kermit the Frog.”
“I was going for something less amphibian. So, back to your man.” He pulls his phone from his pocket. “What’s his name again? I want to see this guy who’s kissing you.”
“It’s Ryan Brincatt.” His name rolls from my lips, making them tingle.
He nods. “This him?” He flips his phone so I can see the screen. It’s a photo of Ryan at the gym. He’s working a bag, shirtless.
“Oh, yes. That’s him.”
“Damn. I can see why you’re all twisted over him. It sounds like he really likes you. Why the doubt?”
“Maybe I’m overthinking things. He texted me that night and said he was thinking about me, and I said I liked kissing him, and it was all sweet, so I kind of assumed he’d reach out yesterday, but he didn’t.”
He mulls this over, looking to the ceiling. “My professional opinion is that you have nothing to fear. He clearly feels something for you. No guy is going to spend the day with someone he’s ambivalent about, not to mention kiss that person. No need to worry.”
“Thanks, Craig.” I give his hand a squeeze. “I need to focus on how great the day was. And he did text me first, so that’s a good sign.”
“Exactly. It’s all good. I’m off to defend a deposition, but I’ll be around later if you want to talk.” He points to my doughnut on the counter. “Don’t forget your treat.”
I pick it up as he leaves. It looks so happy, all covered in colorful sprinkles. As I take a bite, I close my eyes as the sudden sweetness fills my mouth. Craig was right. I should eat more doughnuts.
My cell phone rings as I reach my office. Hannah. Although I shouldn’t take a personal call, this could be important, since she rarely calls me at work. Careful not to make a sound, I close the door and answer. “Hey, Hannah! How are you?”