by J. Saman
“Ready, rainbows,” he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Something feels… off. More than just the impending hurricane. Ryan grabs my bag, and we head out to the valet, who has my car waiting.
We hit the highway quickly, and let me tell you, Florida drivers are insane. They weave in and out of lanes without signaling. Some drive dirt-ass slow, while others speed twenty over the limit. Ryan passes out quickly after we hit up a fast food joint.
Normally I don’t eat that crap, but desperate times and all.
I’m lost in thought, listening to music when I start to see signs for Orlando and Disney World. The familiar burning behind my eyes begins automatically. Eric and I had talked about taking Maggie to Disney World. He wanted to do it that winter, but I wanted to put it off since she was so young. I regret that now. I wish I could have seen her face light up the way I know it would have. I wish I could have seen Eric experience that with her.
I’ve been driving for almost four hours. I need to get out and stretch my legs, but the thought of doing it in Orlando makes me ache. I also have to pee, and I’m stiff as hell and thirsty, and really want to curl into a ball and cry my eyes out. My fingers clasp my necklace as I take the exit for Disney World, wondering if this will prove to be cathartic or counterproductive.
Ryan starts to rouse, lifting in his seat until he’s sitting up again and looking out the window. “Are we stopping?”
“I need to stretch my legs and get something to drink.” My voice is so quiet that I know he won’t miss it.
“I can drive after this for a bit if you want to keep going, or we could stay in Orlando? Go to a park?”
“No,” I say far too quickly. “I want to keep going.”
He looks over at me, but I keep my eyes trained on the road. “You okay?”
I shake my head, swallowing a few times and trying to keep my tears at bay.
“Disney World?” he guesses, and all I can do is nod. “Pull in here, Katie.” He points to a Walmart, and I do as I’m told, parking the car near the front. “Let’s go inside, grab some snacks, stretch our legs, and see what kind of weird shit we can find.”
I look at him, but can’t seem to manage a smile.
The second we’re out of the car he pulls me into a hug and I have to try so much harder not to cry. I push him away, shake my head and start to walk towards the entrance.
He gets it.
I know he does as he walks next to me leaving a wide berth of space between us. The entire store is full of Disney and Universal Studios merchandise.
“I never got to read Harry Potter to her.” And that does it. I break down in the middle of Walmart.
Ryan starts toward me with that sad, remorseful look on his face and I wave him off, pointing to the restroom as I run away. I crash through the bathroom and go directly into the stall.
I pee, because, well, I need to, doing my best to get control of my tears. I wonder if a day will come when I don’t cry at least once. I long for it and dread it at the same time. I want to be able to move on, get my life back together, and start fresh. Yet I don’t want to ever do that because I’m afraid that means I’ll have forgotten them, or that my love for them has diminished. If I cry and hurt, then I know they’re still a part of me and that my love is still as strong as it ever was.
I wash my hands, splash water on my face, and when I come out, Ryan has a cart that is filled with crap. A ridiculous t-shirt that says Because I rule, Pringles, Chex mix, bottles of water, a deck of playing cards, and a checkerboard.
“Jesus, how long was I in there?”
“This store is awesome. I’ve never actually been inside of a Walmart before, but you can get everything here, and it’s super cheap.” He’s excited, and it’s sort of adorable. I think I meant it. I’m insanely jealous of whatever girl gets him. I know it’s not me. I know he doesn’t want me like that. But I still can’t help that nagging jealousy at the thought.
“Lead me to the candy aisle. I need gummy candy and I need it stat.”
“This way, doll,” he gives me his crooked smile and then points me over toward the food.
I grab four bags of various gummies and a Diet Coke since the one I got at the fast-food place this morning wasn’t real Diet Coke. Ryan thinks my little habit is nasty, and I concede that it is, but I don’t drink coffee or tea, so he’ll have to deal with it.
I also purchase a Hufflepuff scarf because I’ve always wanted one. Yes, if I had been sorted, it would have been with Hufflepuff, get over it. We leave Walmart fifty bucks broker, but it was worth it, and I feel a little better after my cry.
That’s a new sensation for me too. Usually crying makes me feel worse, but today I somehow feel lighter for it.
Ryan gets in the driver’s seat, and we continue heading northwest to the Florida panhandle. We don’t stop for several more hours. Instead, we eat our junk food and talk and listen to music, and argue about the finer points of Harry Potter and Star Wars.
“All I’m saying is that Star Wars is the greater franchise,” Ryan says, using one-handed exaggerated gestures as the other is thankfully affixed to the steering wheel.
“Greater in what respect? I mean, sure it spans a larger generation gap, but the fact that Harry Potter is both a book and a film series, I think makes it better overall.”
“Okay, I’ll admit that I liked the books. But the Star Wars movies are way better than the Harry Potter ones.”
I shrug, conceding that point. “So would you rather be a wizard or a Jedi?”
“Damn, that’s a great question.” He rubs his hand along his dark bristly jaw as he thinks on this. “Jedi. Lightsabers are badass and they can do pretty much anything a wizard can do.”
“Except apparate. And Jedi can’t really fly.”
“True. Apparation would be awesome.” Ryan turns to me with the biggest grin ever, a twinkle in his vibrant green eyes, and for a moment, I get lost. And then I get butterflies that I don’t quite understand.
And then I turn away because it’s all making me way too jittery and uncomfortable for my liking.
I turn up the music, and we fall into a companionable silence, lost in our own reverie.
By the time we do stop, it’s well after dark, and I have no idea where we are, but Ryan assures me that we’re close to Tallahassee.
We manage to find a hotel that has a restaurant in it, which is a double bonus at this point. We’ve been driving for eight hours, and the thought of having to get back in the car to find food is not appealing.
Ryan and I eat in silence, go to bed in our separate rooms, and wake up early as hell.
Before lunchtime the next day, we’re in New Orleans.
It’s raining. A lot.
The hurricane that hit the Florida coast has sent a wave of moisture in this direction, so the thought of traveling around and looking for a place to stay the way we normally do does not work. We google hotels, and Ryan books us at the Ritz-Carlton, which is around the corner from Bourbon Street. We check in and as I talk to the front desk, Ryan is over by the concierge, I assume making dinner reservations.
When he returns, he has this shit-eating, triumphant grin on his too-handsome face as he pushes his black frames up the bridge of his nose.
“I sort of did something for you, and I don’t want you to complain, challenge, or protest.”
I raise an eyebrow because this sounds serious. “What did you do, Mr. Grant?”
He gives me his crooked smile. “Is it weird that I think it’s hot that you just called me that?” I make a circular motion with my hand encouraging him to spill it. “I made you a spa reservation.”
“You did what?” My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline.
He’s grinning. “Yup. Your appointments start in an hour.”
“Appointments? As in more than one?” I shake my head, trying to hold in my grin. “Ryan—” I start, but he quickly cuts me off.
“And it’s on me.” I’m shaking my head adamantly. “Like
I said, no protests. I want to do this for you, so please accept it.”
Jesus, this guy. I throw my arms around him, burying my head into his chest. He’s the sort of man a woman falls in love with.
“I don’t deserve you, Ryan. You truly amaze me. I may, in fact, love you in this moment.” I pull back with a smile that he readily returns. His knuckles brush my cheek, his eyes feasting on mine before they dip to my lips. They linger there, and with each passing second, my heart beats faster. I don’t want him to kiss me, I don’t, but I can’t make myself step away either.
Finally, he clears his throat. “Go get yourself settled in at the spa, they’re waiting for you. I’ll take your bag up to your room.” I lean up on my tippy-toes and press my lips to his. It’s quick. Nothing more than a peck really. Because a kiss on the cheek just won’t do it for this.
It’s not a real kiss. More like the ones I used to give Maggie. So it doesn’t really count. But I feel it. Even in its brevity, I feel it. The warm softness of his lips. The scent of his skin. The feel of his touch against mine. I feel it all and it feels…well, I’m not exactly sure how it feels.
Confusing? Yes. Nice? Definitely.
I leave Ryan immediately after. My brain is in overdrive and I need to shut it down. The spa is beautiful, and when I get there they give me first-class treatment. Ryan ordered me the works. Massage, a body scrub thing, lunch, facial, manicure, and pedicure. I’m told by the staff that I am not allowed to ask how much everything costs. They’re under strict instructions to make me feel like a princess.
Who does that?
I mean, I’ve known this guy for a week, and he orders me hundreds of dollars’ worth of spa treatments?
I don’t know how to process any of this, mainly because…I could like him. I could, and I don’t want to because I know I’m not ready. It’s just… I don’t know how to make it stop. This building crush I’m developing for him. I have no idea if this pampering is out of friendship, or pity, or something else entirely, but I’m scared to ask.
Scared because I don’t know what I want the answer to be.
I’ll be conflicted no matter what.
I spend almost five freaking hours in the spa, and by the time I emerge, I feel and look like a new woman. I haven’t been this relaxed in years, since before Maggie was born. Recharged? Yeah, I’m that too.
My room is decorated in a very New Orleans French way, full of heavy fabrics, gold and damask patterns. It’s gorgeous. I wish I had someone here with me to share it. Eric wouldn’t have liked this, though. He would have thought it was too ostentatious, which it sort of is, but come on.
Ryan texts me that dinner is set for eight. Perfect. I have time for a nap.
I wake at seven to shower, loving how smooth my skin is as I change into a dress—a sexy as hell, silver mini dress that I almost threw out when I was packing, but decided to keep at the last moment. I’m glad I did. I want to look how I feel. Radiant. I pair it with my silver strappy wedge sandals.
When Ryan opens the door to my knock, he pauses, taking me in from head to toe. “You’re breathtaking, Katie. So absolutely gorgeous.”
I smile, unable to help it, and then I launch myself into his arms. He catches me with an oomph and a laugh. I want to wrap my legs around him, but I don’t dare. Instead, I hold him, and he holds me, and wow, this is just so…
“Thank you, Ryan. Today is on my list as one of the top five best days ever, and it’s all thanks to you.”
He steadies me, running his hand across my cheek and staring at me the way only he does. Like he sees me. Like he cares, and that’s only making this growing ache in the pit of my stomach worse.
“I’d do it every day to see you smile like this.”
Normally a comment like that would make me frown and feel sad, but it doesn’t for some reason. For some reason, it makes me feel bubbly in a way I can’t really express. He means it. And it only makes me want to smile more for him just to see the way he looks at me when I do.
“You ready, Katie?”
“I’m ready, Ryan. Dinner and drinks are on me tonight, and you can’t complain, challenge, or protest,” I smirk, throwing his words back at him.
He laughs, but begrudgingly agrees.
I don’t really give him a choice anyway.
We walk out of the hotel into the balmy night, and even though the rain has stopped, the air is heavy and humid. I can feel my hair raising up to a frizz factor of five, so I run my fingers through it and start to try and tame it into a ponytail.
“Don’t,” Ryan stops me with his fingers in my hair. “I like it down like that.”
I give him a look that says, you must be joking. “My hair is a frizzy mess in this humidity.”
“No,” he disagrees. “It’s sexy.”
“Fine,” I surrender. “But promise me that when it becomes an out of control puff of hair, you’ll let me put it up.”
He laughs. “I promise.”
We walk around the corner to Bourbon Street, and even though it’s a Tuesday in September after a day of rain, the streets are packed. The majority of the one and two-story buildings are brick with a lot of wrought-iron balconies with intricate balustrades and spindles. Bright neon lights beckon you into each of the different bars, all promising real New Orleans jazz.
And there are people selling sex everywhere.
Lots and lots of sex.
Oh, and you can drink openly on the streets. I’ve never experienced that before.
“Despite the obvious debauchery, it’s really a very pretty city. I mean, the architecture and the old world classic vibe are unique, but I don’t think I could live here.”
“Why not?” he asks as he opens the door for me to some restaurant I didn’t even pay attention to.
“The weather,” I tell him as we enter the dimly lit room that is filled with a lot of red silk and velvet. “I’m not a fan of super-hot and humid. I think the south is out for me.”
He nods in agreement. “I’m the same way. We can head north after this if you’d like. See if any of those places appeal to you.”
“Sure, though I’m not sure if I’m a Midwestern girl either. I love the ocean,” I laugh at myself. “I’m sort of a walking contradiction, huh?”
“No, just particular with what you want. That’s a good thing, especially when looking for a new place to live.”
I smile at that as I slide into the plush, red velvet bench seat. Our table is set up so that Ryan has to sit next to me in the small space instead of across from me. A lot of the tables are situated this way, and I can’t really figure out why.
Ryan is a big guy and he takes up a lot of space, and given the confines of our table, our thighs and arms are touching.
“Do you want me to see if they have something bigger?” he asks, noting our points of contact.
I look around the very crowded restaurant and it doesn’t appear to get any better anywhere else.
“Nah,” I wave him off. “It’s a good thing I like you, though,” I tease. An unexpected blush creeps up my face at that. Whoa! I clear my throat. “What made you pick Seattle? Or was it the job that drew you there?” And then I realize in the week that I’ve known Ryan, I have yet to ask about what he does for a living. “God, you must think I’m the biggest bitch in the world.” I cover my face with my hands, leaning my head against his arm. “I’m so sorry I never asked about your work until now.”
He nudges my head with the arm that I’m resting against. “I don’t think you’re a bitch and in truth, I don’t like to talk about my work all that much, so I don’t mind in the slightest.”
I look up at him. “Why not?”
“Because some of what I do is… sensitive.”
“Okay.” I draw out the word scrunching my eyebrows.
“Seattle seemed like as good of a place as any for my company to grow, and I have a good buddy there who wants to run a particular portion of it that I’d rather not, so it all works out.”
�
��Wait,” I hold up a hand. “You own your own business? I don’t understand.”
He stares at me with the most serious of expressions. “Well Katie, much of the world’s consumerism and wealth are driven by business and many people own their own. There are large companies and small companies—” I hit his arm, making him laugh.
“That’s not what I was confused on, you dick.”
He laughs even harder before leaning down to kiss the top of my head. Like it’s all so normal. His touch. His kiss. “You’re just adorable, aren’t you? Yes, I own my own company. I have for years, and as much as I love Philly, I need a change.” He raises an eyebrow. “Surely you can understand that.”
“I can, and I sort of get why you went with Seattle, but you’re awfully cryptic with what you do. Is it a secret?” My eyes widen with intrigue. “Illegal?”
He grins slyly. “No. It’s not illegal, and it’s not exactly a secret, but I don’t like to publicize parts of it either.”
“Then how do you get clients?”
“They come to me by referral and my reputation.”
“Wow,” I lean back and give him a big up and down once-over. “So you are sort of big-time then, aren’t you?”
He laughs out loud and pulls me into his side. “Adorable, Katie. Simply adorable.” Only I don’t feel adorable in his arms. I feel something else entirely.
9
Ryan
* * *
Tonight’s the night. I realize that makes me sound like Dexter or something, but since I’m not planning on murdering anyone, I think I’m good. No, I’m talking about sex. And how I need to get some. Tonight.
It’s the only way I’ll survive being around Katie and not touching her or kissing her or doing any of the millions of other things that I want to do.
It certainly doesn’t help that she looks like the goddess from my wildest fantasies tonight.
That silver dress is driving me mad, and the fact that I had to sit pressed up against her all through dinner? Jesus.