by Various
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in irritation. She just showed up at his place late at night and started taking off her clothes. His fingers stilled. He couldn’t complain about that part. She was like a lit match in his arms, burning and writhing against him, driving him insane with lust. But, every time, she left while he was sleeping—even the few times he’d stopped by her place. Would it kill her to have breakfast with him? Was she having breakfast with some other guy?
It was irritating the hell out of him.
Casual was fine. He was used to casual. He just didn’t want her to be with anyone else. He parked his car and shut off the ignition. He was beginning to understand the women in his past who’d complained about his lack of commitment to a relationship. You just didn’t know where you stood with that person.
He got out of the car and slammed the door. Hell, he wasn’t looking for a relationship; he just needed to know she wasn’t with anyone else. He took the stairs two at a time to her second-floor apartment and pounded on the door.
“Ryan, come in,” Liz said, stepping back from the door. “Is everything okay?”
She wore her Snoopy T-shirt again, and he itched to get his hands on the smooth, creamy skin underneath it. But first he needed answers.
“Fine.” He stepped inside and began to pace the living room. “Look, I’m not saying you have to do one thing or another…but you have to admit we never even ate breakfast together, and when two people spend the night, you might expect a little scrambled eggs…” He jammed a hand in his hair and stopped pacing. “So, what’s the deal?”
“You want scrambled eggs?” Her eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.
“No, it’s not that,” he muttered, pacing again. He wasn’t getting his point across. “I don’t care about scrambled eggs. I mean, you have other friends; that’s fine. You should have friends. And I’m not saying anything about a relationship, just when two people…” He stopped and rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, you and me.” He paced again. “When you and me, you know, keep sleeping together, and I’m not complaining about that. That’s great, but then…”
“Yes?”
He stopped pacing to look at her. She waited, head tilted to the side, looking curiously at him.
He tried again, slicing a hand through the air. “A guy has a right to know.”
“Know what?”
Just spit it out. Talk is not your strong suit.
He crossed to her, pinned her with a hard look. He’d know if she was lying. “Are you seeing anybody else?”
She shook her head, eyes wide and innocent. “No, are you?”
“No. Okay, good. So don’t, okay?” He grabbed her waist and pulled her close, inhaling her delicious vanilla scent. The tension went right out of him as he held her in his arms. He dipped his head, his mouth brushing over hers. “Just be with me.”
“Okay,” she said on a sigh.
He cradled her face, kissing her tenderly to seal the deal. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he lost himself in her soft mouth. She made those little moans that drove him crazy as he deepened the kiss, hungry for her again. She came to life in his arms, kissing him wildly, her hands roaming all over him as she pressed her hot little body against him, pushing him to the edge.
He couldn’t take things slow. He had to have her. Now. He didn’t bother taking off her T-shirt, just worked off her panties. She grasped his hair, nipped at his bottom lip. She was hot and wet, and he couldn’t wait anymore. He worked himself free, lifted her so her legs were wrapped around him, and took her against the wall. Her moans drove him as he pounded into her, staking his claim. Mine, mine, mine. At the last second, he slipped a hand between them and stroked her, making her come with a throaty scream that sent him right over with her.
He didn’t release her. Merely gave himself a moment to recover; then wrapping his arms around her, their bodies still joined, he carried her into the bedroom.
He spent the night, spooning her, breathing in her scent, stroking her soft hair. As soon as he heard her stir in the morning, before she could make her usual getaway, he rolled on top of her and took her again.
They had their first breakfast together at her kitchen table. She made him scrambled eggs. He took care of the toast and juice.
“Good eggs,” he said.
“I heard you liked scrambled,” she teased.
“They’re my favorite now. What are you up to today?” He drank some orange juice.
“I have to catch up on some continuing ed. The test has to be finished and turned in by Friday, but I’ve been a little distracted by something else these past weeks.” She smiled at him, looking like a very satisfied cat who’d licked up all the cream.
He grinned. “I can’t help it if you’re an insatiable nympho.”
She threw her toast at him. “I’m not a nympho.”
He picked the toast off his lap and pointed it at her. “Nym-pho. No two ways about it. Liz Garner is a sex-crazed nympho.”
Bright red dotted her cheeks. “I am not!”
He laughed. He loved ruffling her feathers.
“Well, you made me that way!”
“C’mere,” he crooned. “Sit on my lap, and I’ll try to cure you.”
“No.” She crossed her arms.
“If you don’t come here, I’m going to get you.”
She uncrossed her arms, her eyes darting around for an escape route. There was only one way out of the kitchen, and she’d have to get past him first.
She leaped up from the table and broke right. He went right, and she darted left. They parried back and forth a few times around the table, her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed, and he wanted her again.
“I’ll close my eyes and give you a head start,” he told her, closing his eyes.
A beat passed. Then he heard her take off, and he caught her as she launched herself into his arms. Just as he’d known his little nympho would.
Much later, he drove home, drumming his fingers cheerfully on the steering wheel in time to the radio. Their first breakfast together (not counting when he’d purposely run into her at Garner’s) had gone very well. It wasn’t until he pulled into his own driveway that it hit him—in his need to have her, in the heat of the moment, he hadn’t used a condom. Not once, but twice. When he’d gotten there last night, and this morning when he’d been eager to have her before she could make an escape. The third time had been more leisurely and he’d used one.
He turned off the car and rested his head on the steering wheel. Idiot. He shoved his hands in his hair.
Then he turned the car on, pulled out of the driveway, and headed back to Liz’s place.
~ ~ ~
Liz scrubbed the frying pan she’d scrambled eggs in, smiling dreamily to herself. It had been a very good night. And morning. Ryan had been intense, and she loved it. She tidied up the rest of the kitchen and was heading for the bathroom to shower when someone pounded on her door.
She opened the door to a pale, serious Ryan. “What happened?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”
His mouth formed a grim line. “I didn’t use a condom. Twice.”
She bit her lip, thinking back on their time together. She remembered him putting one on this morning…she couldn’t remember the other times. All she remembered was being crazy to have him inside her. “I was so caught up, I didn’t think—”
“It’s my fault. I caught you off guard. Shit.”
“Okay,” she said quietly. “I, um, don’t know what this means yet, but you’ll be the first to know.”
He looked pained. “Okay.”
“I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah, okay. Bye.”
Liz quietly shut the door and went straight to her treadmill. She set it to a slower pace so she could move and think. She’d purposely kept Ryan at arm’s length. She’d wanted things casual. The past month had been a revelation. She could enjoy herself without needing to control and plan every detail of her life. Just show up, have
sex, go home.
Obviously that’d been a mistake.
But wait, wasn’t there only a short time in the month when you could get pregnant? She turned off the treadmill and headed for her laptop. She pulled up a website that explained the typical cycle and then turned to the calendar planner on her cell. She had regular cycles, so technically, with her period due in nine days, she should be in the clear. Liz called Dr. Cohen and left what she hoped was a calm message that didn’t give away her frantic nerves. Hopefully the doctor would reassure her.
~ ~ ~
Dr. Cohen was not reassuring.
A few hours later, the doctor called and explained there was still a possibility of pregnancy, having to do with the unpredictability of ovulation from cycle to cycle. In other words, Liz had messed up. Dr. Cohen urged her not to ever assume she was in the clear and to use protection every time.
After that panic-inducing phone call, Liz walked around her apartment in a daze. How could she have turned into a wild girl like Daisy, throwing caution to the wind and ending up pregnant? She laughed and clapped both hands over her mouth. Two babies out of wedlock. Their parents would flip. No one would ever believe it of her.
She ran a hand over her flat stomach. What would her life be like carrying Ryan’s child? Would he feel obligated to marry her? She wouldn’t want that. One thing she did know from watching him with his family, he’d be a wonderful father. She knew it from the way he looked out for his brothers and how he took care of Maggie. It was one of the things she loved about him.
She closed her eyes against the next terrifying thought. Despite her hard work of keeping her distance, she’d fallen in love. Why had she ever thought she could do casual with him?
Automatically, she gathered her cleaning supplies and headed for the living room. She stopped suddenly and made one last attempt at keeping her cool. She called Rachel. She got her voice mail and took a deep breath, leaving a reasonably calm message telling her she wasn’t up to a movie tonight, but could she stop by after work. Then she cleaned her apartment from top to bottom.
That night she settled on the sofa with her knitting while she waited for Rachel. Maggie had said knitting could be calming. She picked up the scarf she’d begun more than a month ago and tried to remember the knit stitch. Something about through the door, out the back, go around Jack? She tried it. Nothing happened. She pulled out her laptop and watched a YouTube video for the reminder.
By the time Rachel arrived, Liz had made considerable progress on the scarf.
“You’re knitting?” Rachel asked incredulously as she spied Liz’s project on the sofa. She picked up the long, skinny, crooked piece. “What is it?”
“It’s a scarf,” Liz said, snatching it back. She plunked herself down on the sofa, furiously knitting, adding to its length.
Rachel sat on the sofa next to her. “What are those long strings? And is it supposed to have holes?”
“Yes,” Liz replied, knitting, knitting, knitting. It was the only thing keeping her from screaming.
“Okay,” Rachel said as she slowly reached for Liz’s hands, “let’s put the needles down. I can smell the Lysol, so I know you’ve been cleaning like a madwoman. You didn’t make much sense on the phone. What did you mess up?”
Liz dropped the needles. “I messed up birth control. I might be pregnant!” She grabbed the needles and tried to knit, but the yarn blurred through the tears in her eyes.
Rachel gently took the needles from her hands and set them on the end table out of reach. “Okay, where are you in your cycle?”
“I’m nine days away from my period, and Dr. Cohen said that’s not always a sure thing!”
“Oh, honey, whatever happens, you know I’m here for you, and I’m sure Ryan would do the right thing too. He’s a good guy.”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He’ll be stuck with me, and I’ll never know how he feels about me, just me, no baby responsibility.”
Rachel gave her a look of concern. “Let’s wait until we have all the facts. If dear Aunt Flo doesn’t make an appearance, we’ll do a test. Okay?”
Liz sniffled. “Okay.”
Her cell rang, and she picked it up to see the caller ID. Ryan. She let it go to voice mail.
“Ryan?” Rachel asked.
“Yeah. I’m not up to talking about this with him. I’ll just get more upset.”
“Maybe he wants to be there for you. Why not let him?”
“I need my knitting.” She leaned over and reached for her scarf.
“Come on,” Rachel said, tugging Liz off the sofa. “You need to get out of this apartment.”
Liz let Rachel guide her. “Where are we going?”
“We’re going to drown your troubles in ice cream.” She locked the apartment door behind them.
“Okay.”
“Now I know you need ice cream. You didn’t even mention how long you’d need to do the treadmill after.”
Liz headed down the stairs to the parking lot. “I skipped dinner. Ice cream works.”
They headed off to Shane’s Scoops.
“Hey Liz, Rachel, how are ya?” Shane asked when they reached the counter.
“Fine, and you?” Liz asked.
“Fine, fine.” His attention was on Rachel, who was twirling the end of her braid and studying the ice cream flavors on the whiteboard.
Rachel looked up, and their eyes met. Shane instantly blushed. “Hey,” he said softly.
“Hi, Shane,” Rachel said in her no-nonsense voice. “I’ll have a sundae with chocolate brownie ice cream, hot fudge, and chocolate sprinkles.”
“Same,” Liz immediately agreed.
Shane began scooping. He topped each sundae with extra whipped cream and a generous amount of hot fudge. He handed Liz her sundae and turned to Rachel, handing over hers.
“How’s things at Book It?” he asked. “Keeping you busy?”
“Pretty busy,” Rachel replied.
“Do you work every weekend?” Shane asked.
“Excuse me, can we order?” said a dad with three kids standing in line behind them.
“Be right there,” Shane said, but he kept his eyes on Rachel, intent on her answer.
“Pretty much,” Rachel said. She whirled around and speedwalked to a table with her sundae.
Liz followed in her wake. They sat down and dug into their sundaes. Rachel’s cheeks were pink.
Liz leaned forward. “Did Shane just ask you out?”
“I hope not,” Rachel said, not meeting her eyes. “He’s too serious. Kerry told me he always wanted to talk through everything. She could never just have a good fight with him.”
“You want to fight?” Liz asked.
Rachel’s gaze wandered back to where Shane was jovially greeting some kids. She snapped her attention back to her sundae. “Besides if we broke up, and let’s face it, we would break up, where would I go for my daily caffeine and sugar fix?”
Liz ate a spoonful of ice cream. Rachel had a point. The ice cream was heavenly. She was feeling a little better already.
“Shane’s a nice guy,” Liz said. “It could work out. Not everyone is like Drew.”
Rachel stirred her hot fudge into the chocolate brownie ice cream, making it even more chocolatey. “Drew was a stalker, so thank God not every guy is like him. Don’t forget Brandon; it took me a year to realize he was gay. And Jake, who didn’t believe in taking his meds for bipolar. Oh, and Mark, the married accountant picking up women at clubs. You have to admit I have terrible taste in men.”
Liz tightened her lips. She couldn’t help but agree. Geez, she thought her ex-fiancé Craig was bad, and her long dry spell, but Rachel’s record was so much worse. She swallowed down some more ice cream, letting the cool sweetness relax her. “We might be cursed.”
Rachel snorted. “Cursed with bad taste in men?”
Liz nodded, warming to the idea. “Although, Shane might be the antidote to your curse.”
“No, I think you were
right the first time,” Rachel proclaimed just as Shane approached from behind her. Liz raised her brows in a silent warning. “I’m cursed and doomed to a life of spinsterhood. I will die a virgin old lady with ten cats!” With that, she cracked up.
Shane stopped cold, eyes wide. Liz pointed to Shane. Rachel stiffened and slowly turned around.
She whipped her head back to Liz. “Omigod, did he hear that?” she whispered.
“I didn’t hear a thing,” Shane promised, even as his face flushed. “I’m just erasing toasted marshmallow from the daily specials. We’re all out.” He picked up an eraser and wiped it off the small whiteboard of specials he kept near the front of the shop.
Rachel dropped her head in her hands and moaned.
“Don’t mind her,” Liz said. “Brain freeze.”
“Ice cream hazard,” Shane said. “Perfectly understandable.” One corner of his mouth kicked up as he headed back behind the counter.
Chapter Twenty-One
Liz managed to get through the rest of the week without running into Ryan and avoided his calls. She hadn’t wanted to worry him, though, so she’d texted that she’d let him know as soon as she knew she wasn’t pregnant. Left it on a positive note. By Friday, she was exhausted from the waiting and the guilt over avoiding him. It wasn’t like it was his fault. Took two to tango and all that baloney.
She stopped by Garner’s for dinner and went through the back door to say hello to her parents first. She ran into her mother in a mad rush for the door.
“Daisy had the baby! I’m heading to the airport!”
“Wait, Mom! Is she okay? Is the baby okay?”
“Everyone’s good. Healthy. Help out your dad.” Then she ran out the door to her car.
Liz felt a stab of disappointment that she’d missed the birth. She’d told Daisy to call her as soon as she went into labor. Too late now. At least everything had gone well. She just hated to think of her sister going through that alone.
She found her father sitting on a stool at the bar, staring at nothing. “Dad, are you okay?”
“I’m a grandfather,” he said with a look of amazement. “I’ve got a grandson.”