I grin, accepting the plant. “So, you picked the spiny one?”
The man matches my smile. “I did.” He then lowers his voice and leans forward. “Was that wrong?”
A familiar silver car glides up to the curb, parking along the walk. Nervous butterflies flutter in my stomach as Ryland steps out.
“Nah,” I say to my neighbor. “I like prickly things.”
“I’m Oliver,” the man says, and then he glances over his shoulder to follow my gaze. His eyes widen when he spots the car, and then he looks back at me. “That must be your Mr. Dev…il?”
“Close enough,” I say with wicked amusement.
“Boyfriend?” Oliver asks.
“Boss.”
His eyes brighten. “I’ll let you go then. Welcome to the neighborhood.”
“Thank you for the cactus. As luck would have it, there’s a new vacancy on my kitchen table—maybe I can keep this plant alive.”
Oliver laughs as he jogs down the steps, getting to the bottom about the time Ryland is starting up the walk. The two men eye each other, and Ryland glances up suspiciously. I meet his eyes and smile, probably a little too pleased with myself.
That’s right, Mr. Devlin. I have a social life—look, I just got a plant.
“Nice barrel cactus,” he says when he meets me at the door, jerking his head toward the pot. “Are you ready?”
“Thanks.” I grin as I walk into the house. “Come on in. I just have to set this down and grab my purse.”
Ryland hesitates in the doorway.
I look at him as I set the cactus on the kitchen table. “Are you a vampire? What are you doing?”
“You invited me in,” he points out as he steps inside. “So, even if I were a vampire, I could enter.”
I nod thoughtfully. “That might have been my first mistake.”
“Certainly not your first.”
I glance up, smirking. And then my eyes catch on Ryland as I really look at him for the first time today.
He’s in jeans. Nice jeans, ones that hug his backside and skim over his legs. They probably cost as much as my mom’s wedding dress. He also wears a long-sleeve tee in a charcoal shade just darker than his eyes and dark brown boots. Seeing him in anything other than his usual suit and tie is a little disconcerting.
“So…” He looks around the house, taking it in. “Who was that?”
“My neighbor.”
“Friend of yours?”
“We just met. He lives downstairs.”
Ryland makes a noise that almost sounds like a grunt. (If high and mighty Mr. Devlin would do something so uncouth.)
“I’ll be right back,” I tell him, disappearing into my bedroom. A moment later, I come back out with my purse. “I’m ready…”
I trail off, startled to find Ryland petting Toad. The cat arches his back with pleasure, and his eyes close to narrow slits.
“He doesn’t like anyone,” I say, dumbfounded.
Ryland scratches behind Toad’s ears, making the cat flop over with pleasure. “He seems to like me.”
Before I can help myself, or maybe because I don’t want to, I say, “I had no idea he was such a bad judge of character.”
A curious expression crosses Ryland’s face. He slowly turns his eyes on me, pinning me and making me feel like we’re standing much closer than we are. “You like me, Lucy.”
My mouth goes dry, and I fuss with my earring. “Yes, but maybe you should ask yourself if I’m a bad judge of character as well.”
That earns me a smile—a real, honest-to-goodness, highly amused smile. And dang it all, my heart gives an extra thump.
Thankfully, I don’t have to respond because Ryland is already heading toward the door. I follow him out, wondering if his superpower is throwing me off balance. I never know what to expect around this man. One minute he’s aloof, and the next, he’s flashing me flirtatious smiles, offering to carpool, and charming my cat.
It’s enough to drive a girl to drink, and the hardest thing I’ve ever imbibed is cough syrup. (Actually, that honor probably goes to Grandma Marge’s fruit cake, which is 95% bourbon, 5% artificial green cherries, and 100% not pleasant.)
We reach the car, and Ryland opens my door. As in, he doesn’t just unlock it like he usually does—he opens it.
For me.
I stare at him, wondering if something heavy hit him on the head at the construction site yesterday.
“Did you misplace your hard hat?” I ask.
He gives me a funny look. “No. Why?”
I slip into the seat and mutter, “Just curious.”
The car purrs as Ryland drives through the city toward Scottsdale, where his parents live. He’s a careful driver—cautious, courteous, never in a hurry.
I wonder if it’s because he doesn’t want to risk scratching his precious car or if that’s simply how he is. I have a feeling it’s mostly the latter.
We arrive at Mr. and Mrs. Devlin’s house a little while later, but I wasn’t prepared. In my head, I knew it would be gorgeous. Mr. Devlin isn’t just an architect—he caters to the high dollar crowd.
But wow.
The home is nestled in the rocky hills. It’s done in a southwestern style, with grand metal arches, approximately a billion windows, and a massive stone rotunda that looks like a castle tower.
Ryland pulls onto the concrete drive, which sweeps around the back of the house to the garage. I gawk at the xeriscaping, taking in all the details, from the rocky inclines to various succulents, cacti, and desert trees. Everything looks completely natural…but better.
I feel like we’ve pulled up to a five-star hotel, or maybe the world’s best bed and breakfast.
Which, naturally, makes me wonder what it would be like to honeymoon with my boss.
“Lucy?” Ryland says, catching my attention and making me realize I was staring into space—something I tend to do around him.
I snap my attention back to the real world, where it belongs.
10
Ryland
Mom walks out to greet us, carrying Hayden.
“You made it!” she says, beaming. Then, to Lucy, she says, “I love your skirt.”
Which, of course, makes me look at it too, not that I hadn’t noticed it already. It’s long, just brushing her ankles, and the shade is somewhere between pink and red. The cotton fabric is a bit clingy, too, subtly hugging places my eyes shouldn’t wander.
Lucy wears it with a simple, fitted white T-shirt, and her hair is down in carefree waves. It’s a different look than what I usually see her in at the office.
She wears casual exceptionally well—which is likely what her neighbor thought, too.
I would bet my car he didn’t drop by just to be neighborly.
“Come on in, Lucy, and we’ll get you something to drink,” Mom says. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
I follow her and Lucy inside.
There’s already copious quantities of food spread out on the counter, and Dad hasn’t even started the grill yet.
Tyler preps the steaks, and Carina tosses a salad.
“There are jalapeño poppers,” she says, gesturing toward the plate.
“Are they spicy?” I ask, taking one and sticking the entire thing in my mouth.
“Probably not enough for you, but I think they’re plenty warm.”
Carina’s right—they’re relatively mild.
“Try one, Lucy.” Tyler nudges the plate toward her. “They’re my specialty.”
Lucy takes several steps back, shaking her head with a smile. “I don’t like spicy stuff.”
“You seem like the kind of girl who can handle a little heat,” I say, meeting her eyes, keeping my expression neutral. “Am I wrong?”
Carina and Tyler exchange a look, but my attention is on Lucy. Her mouth pinches slightly as she acknowledges the challenge.
“It would be a shame not to try them,” I tease, taking another from the plate. “They’re one of the few things Tyler
does well.”
“Hey,” Tyler protests.
I smile the moment Lucy accepts the bait. She gingerly chooses the smallest pepper from the tray and raises it to her mouth. She stares at it like it’s a snake for several seconds before she takes the tiniest nibble.
“Oh, come on.” I step forward to snatch another popper from the tray. “You need to take a real bite.”
Instead of eating it myself, I hold it up to her mouth. It was supposed to be funny—like she’s a picky child.
But she licks her lips, and my pulse jumps. Suddenly, I think of her note. I think of kissing her.
Unfortunately, I also think of my family. Standing right there…staring at me like I’ve grown an extra head.
Clearing my throat, I try to act casual. I have no choice but to play this through. “They’re not that hot.”
Lucy’s eyes dart to mine, and her eyelashes flutter. Then she’s leaning forward and snatching the popper from my hand. Her lips barely brush against my thumb, but it’s almost too much. I’m playing with fire.
I don’t know when or where, but I’m going to kiss this girl.
Lucy’s eyes are on mine like she, too, knows it’s only a matter of time. Heat travels between us, an undeniable spark. Has it been here all along? How did I miss that my feelings for Lucy were reciprocated?
The moment I read her note, things I was blind to became visible—like the way Lucy looks at me and the delighted smiles she hides when she’s being contrary.
I missed them all—I had no idea they were there, so I didn’t think to look for them.
Lucy absently licks her lips, and my eyes track the movement. I can feel the weight of my family’s stares, but I can’t seem to convince myself to step away.
And then Lucy coughs.
And sputters.
And coughs some more.
Tyler roars with laughter, and Carina joins him. Even Mom laughs, though she looks slightly more sympathetic. I lean against the counter, chuckling quietly.
“Water,” Lucy gasps as she waves her hand over her face as if that will cool her down. “I’m dying.”
“They’re not that hot,” I protest, but I’m grateful Lucy found a way to defuse the situation.
“So hot,” she argues. “So, so hot.”
Her cheeks turn pink, and tears glisten in her eyes. She’s either a wimp or hers was spicier than mine.
“I might have missed a few seeds,” Tyler says as he hands her the glass. “Sorry about that, Luce.”
She takes a big gulp and then grins at my brother. “If we were at the office, I could file for workman’s comp. I’m pretty sure it burned all my taste buds right off.”
“But we’re not at the office,” I point out casually, popping another jalapeño in my mouth. “So different rules apply.”
Lucy meets my eyes. An ember of smoldering heat simmers in her gaze—the kind that doesn’t come from spicy peppers. And then suddenly, uncertainty passes over her face…as if maybe she’s wondering, yet again, if I read the note.
I did, Lucy.
I did.
11
Lucy
Carina doesn’t have a chance to pull me aside until after dinner, but the moment the opportunity arises, she digs her fingers into my arm and drags me into one of the house’s gorgeous rooms. I don’t even know what it is—sunroom? That sounds too bland. Solarium? Conservatory?
“What is going on with you and Ryland?” Carina demands.
I shake off her hand and pinch the fabric of my skirt. “What are you talking about?”
“Um, him feeding you.”
“Oh, that.” I wrinkle my nose. “That was weird, right?”
“And then the whole ‘we’re not at the office so different rules apply’ thing.”
I flush just thinking about it.
“Yeah,” I say. “That was kinda weird too.”
“Admit it,” she says, oddly triumphant. “You like him.”
I roll my eyes.
“Even if you don’t, he likes you.”
“That’s not possible,” I argue. “You have no clue how awful he is.”
“Of course I know—I worked with him. But he never looked at me the way he’s been looking at you all afternoon.”
With a heavy sigh, I sit on a chair that looks out at the backyard pool. It’s dark now, and the outdoor lighting makes the landscape look like a midnight oasis.
“I think there’s a different explanation,” I finally say.
“What?” Carina asks warily, catching my odd tone. “What did you do?”
I flash her a disgruntled look. “More like what you did.”
“Me?” She lets out an incredulous laugh. “I didn’t do anything!”
“You did too,” I say, lowering my voice to a hiss. “You’re the one who told me to write that stupid letter. Well, I did it. And then…I lost it.”
She gapes at me. “You actually did it? But you said it was stupid.”
“It was stupid—and look at the trouble it got me into. I think Ryland found it.”
Carina thinks about it for a minute, and then she shakes her head. “No, that doesn’t make sense. If you told him off in a letter, he’d be irked. He wouldn’t be looking at you like you’re catnip.”
I bury my head in my hands. “That’s the problem. In the beginning, I was venting. I told him everything I can’t stand about him. Then…I got distracted.” I groan just thinking about it. “I wrote that I want to kiss him.”
My aunt is so quiet, I must have shocked her into a stunned silence. Wary, I look up to gauge her reaction.
Carina presses her lips together to hide her amusement, and her shoulders shake with a pent-up laugh.
“Stop that!” I point my finger at her. “This is your fault.”
“Only you could write a nasty note and have it turn into a love letter.”
“Don’t call it that,” I exclaim, horrified.
“What would you call it?”
“I should move back to Texas,” I whine, flopping back in the chair and resting my head against the cushion.
“Lucy, why in the world would you move back home?” Carina demands. “That gorgeous man out there likes you. At the very least, he’s intrigued. Why in the world would you throw in the towel just when things are getting good?”
She’s so pleased, she practically cackles with glee.
I lean forward in my chair. “You are a wicked woman.”
Carina throws her hands up with another laugh. “What did I do?”
“This,” I say. “You plotted this.”
“I didn’t!” Then she grins. “But now, I rather wish I had.”
I shake my head. “What makes you think Ryland and I would be good for each other? You have no idea—we drive each other crazy. Everything I do is wrong, and he acts like he has a stick—”
“My sister wouldn’t be happy if I let you finish that,” Carina says with a smirk.
I roll my eyes. “Well, you know what I mean.”
After Carina recovers from her amusement, she sits back in her chair with a content sigh. “You’re the most lovable person I know. When I think about it, I realize there is no way Ryland could work with you day in and day out and not fall for you. And Lucy, he’s honestly a good man. He deserves someone as awesome as you.”
I offer a lackluster protest, but I think about her words instead of dismissing them.
“Besides, you already admitted you like him,” Carina points out. “You put it in the letter.”
“I can’t believe I listened to you.”
“You really think he found it?”
I glance toward the doorway. Ryland is out there, somewhere.
With my stomach twisting, I say, “I’m nearly positive.”
“Don’t heat them in the microwave,” Mrs. Devlin reminds me as we walk to Ryland’s car. “They’ll get mushy.”
“I’ll warm them in the oven,” I promise, clutching the leftovers.
She’s sending me
home with so much food, I’m certain she’s convinced I live on mac and cheese and instant noodles. It’s like she’s browsed the contents of my cupboard.
“That’s right.” She then turns to her son and gives him a hug. “Drive careful.”
Carina chimes in, “Be sure Lucy makes it into her condo okay. It’s dark—walk her to her door.”
I shoot her a look of death, but she hides behind her baby son and gives me an innocent smile.
Ryland promises he will, and too soon, he and I are in his car.
Alone.
All alone.
Ryland pulls out of his parents’ drive, and we begin the trip back into the city. We’re both quiet.
I look outside the dark window, counting the minutes until we reach my condo.
It’s already been two.
Finally, Ryland asks me about a project, and we’re able to fill the silence with talk about work until we reach the subdivision.
He parks, and I play with my seat belt. “Well, thanks…”
Ryland turns off the car. He then angles toward me, making my stomach flutter. “I promised Carina I’d walk you to your door.”
I laugh like it’s funny. “My family worries too much.”
He flashes me a look, his brow raised in the orange glow of the streetlight. And then he opens his door, stepping into the night.
I gulp and follow his lead, clutching his mother’s plastic containers like they’ll protect me from doing something stupid.
Once we reach the front door, I fumble with my key.
“You should have left your light on,” Ryland points out as I attempt to work the lock.
The back of my neck tingles with expectation, and warmth makes its way through my limbs. I’m not exactly sure what my body thinks will happen, but it’s likely getting ahead of itself.
Ryland’s hand brushes the small of my back when I finally swing the door open, a featherlight touch in the night.
“I should probably come in.” He says the words too near my ear. “Just so I can have a clear conscience that I followed Carina’s orders before I leave.”
I turn to him, and his hand moves to my side, hot and quietly telling. He’s never touched me before, and certainly not like this.
Little Lost Love Letter: A Romantic Comedy Novella Page 6