He wasn't. He’d been fucking precise and careful, until the advent of Bethanie and Ethan. Now his brain was teased with ideas he shouldn't consider and desires he couldn't afford to act on. Whatever. He’d chalk up his weird mood and idle thoughts of shit that could never be to the lingering effects of being happy for Moriah.
Ethan staggered forward with a five-gallon bucket full of snow. He lifted it three steps and put it down, waited a moment, and lifted it, shuffling three steps before he set it down again.
Ryan shook his head. The kid had determination and grit. He walked over, reached down, and took most of the bucket's weight, but allowed Ethan to continue to help.
“Okay, grab a chair. Put it over here on my right.” Ryan hefted the bucket of pristine snow into the deep kitchen sink.
“What do we need?” Bethanie hovered by the refrigerator.
“Two cans of sweetened condensed milk and vanilla extract.” The look of doubt that crossed her face was almost comical.
Ethan stood next to Ryan as he grabbed a spoon and opened the pop top on the milk. “Okay, this is how we make snow ice cream. Take that can and slowly pour it on top of the snow while I stir.” He watched as Ethan dribbled the thick milk over the top of the snow.
“Perfect. You keep doing that while your mom adds a teaspoon of vanilla, and I'll keep stirring.”
He stirred the concoction, reaching down into the bucket to gather up some of the hard-packed snow into the mixture. After a couple minutes, he nodded to the bowls stacked by Ethan. “Hold them out, one at a time.”
He filled each bowl and Bethanie took them to the table. Ethan pushed his chair to the table and sat down. Okay, maybe he levitated instead of sat. The kid was excited.
“Can I try it now?”
“Sure.” Ryan planted his ass in his chair and gave it a try. Not bad.
“Oh, my goodness, this is fantastic! Just like ice cream.” Bethanie’s surprised exclamation received a full-bodied head nod from her son.
“Do you like it?” Ryan spooned in another mouthful after he asked Ethan.
He shook his head and swallowed the ice cream. “So good. Can we make this every night?”
“No.”
“No.”
He looked at Bethanie and laughed at their perfectly timed answers. Her eyes sparkled, and the smile she gave him was radiant. She turned to Ethan. “This is a special treat, so we should only have it on special occasions.”
Expecting blowback, Ryan shifted his gaze to Ethan. The boy narrowed his eyes and stared at his mom—spoon suspended in the air—before he visibly deflated in his chair. “Okay.”
“Finish up, then it’s time for bed, mister. We've had a long day.” Bethanie stifled a yawn.
She probably was tired. She'd bundled up and helped Ethan dig out a portion of the snow fort they’d been building while he’d made supports for the plywood ceiling. He'd made sure the thing was safe. He'd be damned if the kid was going to end up buried under a ton of snow.
“May we go out to the fort tomorrow?” Ethan asked.
“In the afternoon if it isn't snowing too bad. According to the weather service, you will have snowblower duty in the morning.” The forecast was for another foot of snow.
“Awesome.” Ethan scooped the last of his ice cream into his mouth, excused himself, rinsed his bowl, and put it in the dishwasher.
“Shower, pajamas, and bed.”
“Okay. Night, Ryan. C'mon, Dog.”
“Night.” He chuckled as the dynamic duo headed up the incline to the upper rooms.
“Thank you for showing us this. How did you learn to make it?” Bethanie pointed to the quickly melting snow ice cream in her bowl.
“You’re welcome, and that's a story of necessity. I was up here, man, maybe two years ago, and I was Jonesing for something sweet. As you know, I don't bake. So, I got online and entered the ingredients I had in the cupboard. Presto, snow ice cream shows up on my feed, and there you have it. Necessity, thy name is sweet tooth.”
“Well, thank you to necessity and the internet.” She laughed softly and stared down at her bowl for a moment. “I also wanted to thank you for everything you’re doing for Ethan and me. He's never had a positive male role model before, someone he could look up to, you know. It's nice for him to finally have that.”
Ryan's gut dropped south and settled somewhere near Antarctica. Him, a positive role model? Ah... no. He set his spoon in the bowl as Bethanie got up to rinse out her dish. Him as a role model? Oh, yeah, that was laughable. He could start by showing the kid how to use a hypodermic needle. So many uses. Air bubbles in the bloodstream, undetected loss of brake fluid. Creating an insulin overdose or mimicking a fatal heart attack with an untraceable drug.
Then, of course, there was the mixed bag of martial arts he could show the kid. How to kill by shoving the cartilage of the nose through the brain while making it look like the person fell down the stairs. Oh, and fuck, let’s not forget drowning in a bathtub, or accidental electrocution via household appliances. Roadkill? No problem! He had that covered, too. Amazing how many accidents happened on solitary roads with no guardrails. Yeah, he was one hell of a role model, wasn't he? “I want to thank you for taking care of us. I can't tell you the last time I felt safe, but I feel that way here, with you.” She gave him a small smile and walked out of the kitchen.
Bethanie felt safe? Well, yeah. She was isolated, and she knew what he was. She should probably take Ethan and run as far away as she could. That thought brought a wave of desolation along with it.
He glanced at the bucket in the sink. He'd enjoyed the hell out of the last two weeks, which sucked on multiple levels. Memories made in this house would haunt him when they left, but there was no question in his mind. When Guardian sorted the situation out, Bethanie and Ethan would drive down the mountain and leave. That was the best-case scenario for everyone.
There wasn't a crystal of ice left in the sloppy mixture at the bottom of his bowl when Ryan finally shook himself out of the thoughts in his head. He needed to man up and cast off the stupid thoughts that Moriah's call had dredged up. He'd play babysitter for another couple of weeks and then resume his life when they went back to theirs. End of story. Period.
Chapter 14
Bethanie catapulted into a sitting position. Never again. Never. She picked up Ethan's leg and pushed it off her. She'd been kicked, hit, and rolled on, for the last hour and a half. Snow ice cream before bed was never going to happen again.
She rolled off the side of the bed and padded into the bathroom. Not because she needed to use the facilities, but because she needed a small bubble of her own space if only for a moment. When she padded back toward the bed, she thought better of it, especially since Ethan was now spread eagle in the center of the mattress.
She pulled the bedspread off the bottom of the bed and wrapped it around her. The couch was calling her name. With the bedspread draped over her head and hiked up in her arms so she could walk, she headed to the door. Dog moved away from the threshold as she approached. She stopped and watched the dog trot over and hop up onto the foot of the bed. “You're going to get kicked,” she muttered, and the dog huffed in response and made a circle three times before he lay down. The animal was wicked smart, except in this. He was going to get kicked. “Don't bite him, and don't say I didn't warn you.”
She yawned so hard her entire body shook. Shuffling down the ramp, she made a beeline to the couch only to pull up short.
“What are you doing up?” Ryan set aside a notebook and patted the cushion next to him.
“I could ask the same question.” Bethanie shuffled over to the couch and settled into the seat.
“I'm working on a design for that chamber.” He motioned to an area past the fireplace that was walled off from the rest of the living areas.
“What are you going to make?” She'd walked into the isolated cave when he was taking measurements the other day. It was bigger than her New York apartment.
�
��I was thinking maybe a hydroponics garden.”
“Really?”
He smiled at her when she jumped up on her knees. “See, there is this woman in my cave who knows a shit-ton about plants, how to grow vegetables and herbs, the medicinal uses for them, and the practicality of raising sustainable produce. For a person in my situation, that’s useful knowledge, so I started to do some research.”
“Really? Oh, I’d love help you. I have three books on my Kindle about hydroponics. The system doesn’t have to be elaborate to function well, and you could mix the plantings to allow maximum yield. Wait! You could use the hot spring because the minerals would help feed the roots!” Never had she put her ideas forward with such enthusiasm. With Harvey, she’d learned never, ever, to put her ideas forward at all. Oh, God. All the old knee-jerk feelings of vulnerability and self-ridicule swallowed her excitement. She snapped her mouth shut. Crap, she needed to shut up. This wasn’t her home.
“What? What just happened there?”
Bethanie deflated against the back cushion of the couch. She shrugged and gave him a weak smile. “I'm sorry. This is your project. You really don't need help from someone like me.” She had no formal education on the subject; besides, she had no idea if he even wanted her involvement.
He shook his head and gave a laugh before he smiled at her. “The hell I don't. Listen, I have no idea how to grow the shit. I'm more interested in the engineering of the operation. I'm building a list of things we'd need. Grow lights, tubing, tracts to hold the hanging gardens. The list is far from complete. So, please, help a lug out and set me on the right path.”
Bethanie sat down and hugged her knees again. “I'd love to help. Thank you.”
“You're welcome. Now you know what is keeping me awake, what are you doing down here?”
She rolled her eyes. “Ethan is dreaming he's Adonis Creed or something. I feel like I've gone nine rounds in the latest Rocky movie. No more snow ice cream before bed. He's sleep boxing.” She rubbed her face as she dropped into a heap against the back of the couch.
“Noted. Next time, we'll give him a chance to burn it off before bed.”
“Hmmm… sounds like a plan.” She smiled at the thought of the next time. “Was your call tonight bad news? You seemed kinda up in your head when we were making the ice cream.”
He opened his mouth and then closed it as if he’d changed his mind. He shrugged. “Remember that friend of mine, the one I bought the port for?”
“Yeah, an old girlfriend who wasn't exactly a girlfriend. The one who broke up with you. I remember.”
“She got married.”
Wow, okay. “Oh. That's why you were upset. That's understandable.” She drew up her knees, wrapped her arms around her legs, and stared at his profile as he gazed into the fire. He was such a wonderful man; she had no idea why someone would walk away from him.
“No, actually, I wasn't upset, or jealous, or any of the things I thought I should have been.”
“Because you're over her.”
“I don't think that was it. If I'm honest, I think I wasn't upset because I didn't love her to begin with. I liked her a lot, but mostly, she was convenient.” He winced. “And doesn't that make me sound like an ass.” He shook his head.
The question seemed more to himself than to her, but she found herself wanting to answer it anyway. “No, it makes you sound as if you've thought through the past. She's married now, so it’s pretty obvious she felt the same way, true?”
He chuckled and nodded, still staring at the flames of the fire. “True.”
Bethanie watched the flames lick the logs, dancing as they consumed the fuel. She wondered what it was like to have a relationship that you mourned. “I think I would miss the intimacy. I’d miss the solace of having someone to talk with, someone to comfort and hold me. That's what I would miss the most, I think... Not that I’ve ever had someone like that.” She dropped her head against the back of the couch, content to just sit next to him. His presence next to her in the darkness was so… right.
“To be honest, I never thought about what I needed in any real sense. I thought if anyone could put up with me, it would be her.”
Bethanie snorted out a laugh. “Put up with you? Please, there are school moms I know who would pull out each other's hair to get your attention. You have to know you're like a catch, right?”
He laughed and shook his head. “Believe me, I'm not.”
“Right. Imagine your picture in Vanity Fair underneath the caption reads: ‘Handsome, rugged outdoorsman with the body of a Greek god, great with children, will do housework, is funny, engaging, and extraordinarily smart.’ I'm telling you, you are every woman's dream come true.” Bethanie laughed at his shocked expression.
“Yeah, well, I'll beg to differ. You, on the other hand, are a catch.”
Bethanie snorted and pulled the bedspread around her tighter. “Yeah, okay. ‘Penniless single mom, without a job or prospects for a job, being followed by people who want to kill her and her son.’ Hell of a caption.”
He turned toward her. Their knees touched, and he leaned back on the couch, almost matching her position. “That's not the caption I'd use.”
“No?” She looked away from his steady gaze. Meeting it hurt because she could imagine the one he'd use. Stupid, city-slicker, single mom, with no sense of direction, no job, and no prospects for a job, seeks a wealthy sugar daddy.
His fingers traced the edge of the bedspread, bringing her attention back to him and he shook his head. “The caption I'd place under your picture is beautiful, smart, sexy woman, fierce mother, and all around wonderful person.”
“You think I'm... fierce?” God, she wanted to ask him if he thought she was smart and sexy and beautiful, but she'd changed her mind midstream.
He nodded and pulled the bedspread toward him, closing the space between them. “Beautiful, smart, sexy and fierce.”
“You do?” she whispered, because she didn't want to wake herself up if she was dreaming. She’d been trying to show him how much she would welcome his attentions, but she didn’t think he returned her feelings.
“I do.” Oh, God, he did. His lips were warm, and when they made contact with hers, an electric sizzle jolted through her. She sighed and leaned forward. Yes, this she needed this from him. His attention, his focus, his warmth and God help her, his touch.
His arm wrapped around her and tugged her forward. She caught herself against his chest, her hands connecting with the hard muscle under his shirt. Those muscles had driven some pretty wonderful daydreams. Her breath caught in her throat. This was happening. They were happening. If this was an ice cream induced dream, she never wanted to wake up.
His chest moved under her palms as he pulled her closer and changed the angle of their kiss. His tongue swept her lips, and she opened for him. The sensations, taste, touch, and scent of the man holding her warmed her deep inside. Her hand palmed his jaw as they kissed. The feel of his stubble scraped against the skin of her palm and sent a shiver through her. Her skin prickled as sensation washed over her. His chest vibrated as he made a sound of approval when she chased his tongue with hers. His hands held her secure against him.
He lifted his head and, in the firelight, she could see the desire in his eyes. “Beautiful.” He pushed her hair away from her face. “Fucking perfect.”
She wanted to be with this man so badly, but... “This is probably a mistake.”
“I know.” He dropped a kiss on her lips.
“We should probably stop.”
“I know.” Another sweep of his lips against hers.
“Ryan?”
“Yes.”
“I don't want to stop.” God help her, she wanted this. For her. She wanted him for selfish, covetous reasons. She wanted to know she could affect a man, make him need, not just be used. She didn't need forever, she'd settle for right now. She couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t. The ramifications be damned.
He lifted away. His eyes held hers, and she
read a multitude of emotions, many of which she couldn’t categorize, but he was here with her in this moment. That she could see. He leaned down and kissed her lips gently, breathing, “I need you, too.”
He consumed her. There were no other words to describe the terrifying, thrilling, free fall she was experiencing. There was nothing she could do to stop herself even if some cautionary warning had made its way into the rational part of her head.
He maneuvered her easily. One moment she was held against him, the next she lay on her back on the couch. The bedspread fell away, forgotten in a rush to find skin. Her skin, his skin, it didn't matter. He kissed down her neck and showered sensation through her body.
She tugged at the buttons of his shirt and growled in frustration. He lifted up and, not bothering to unbutton it, whipped his shirt over his head. She splayed her hands against his pecs. The hard muscles moved, rolled and bunched under her hands as he undid his belt and jeans. He was fearsome and yet gentle. Powerful enough to take what he wanted, but she didn’t feel threatened. She felt safe, wanted, desired. Her hands traveled over his chest. He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm, sending a shiver through her entire body.
“Are you sure?” His words were breathed against her palm and wrist as he kissed her.
“Positive. Please, don’t stop.”
“I won’t. Take off your pajamas,” he growled as he stood and dropped the denim. Oh, my God. He was beautiful and big. His erection was long and full, weighing his cock down where it lay against the two nestled weights below. He reached for his shaft and wrapped his hand at the base. “Bethanie, it's your turn. You need to get naked before I die here.”
She slid her hands down the brushed cotton of her sleep shirt and slowly undid the buttons. Her hands shook, but she wasn't going to deny herself this. She hadn't had sex except for Harvey. She hadn't wanted it then, but she did now. God help her, she wanted Ryan with an ache that echoed deep in her belly.
Lycos (Guardian Security Shadow World Book 3) Page 13