Turn The Page (Kissed by A Muse Book 2)

by S. K Munt

  Okay brother calm down… you’re still amped up over that scene with Bruce… just breathe...

  ‘Sorry,’ Leigh said quickly, and Ryan immediately felt bad for taking his issues out on her. The truth was that discovering the name of the café that Kathryn Praser wrote at on one of Leigh’s breakfast trays had sent him into a spiralling guilt funnel, and he was trying to chew himself free of it using his sharpest teeth. Leigh had taken the discovery hard too, and since she’d whispered that she’d have to call Bruce for that second date; to apologize and say thank-you, Ryan had been feeling even more anxious.

  ‘It’s okay-’

  ‘No. I... Hey… what do you mean, by you don’t have a license? Why are you driving without a license?’

  Ryan frowned at the road, taking the exit that would lead them to his neighbourhood. ‘Because I need to drive, and no one will give me a license until I have an identity… it’s okay-

  ‘No it’s not! Ryan, that’s breaking the law! Oh my god!’

  Ryan glanced at her to see if she was serious, and when he saw that she’d turned ashen in response to his criminal behaviour, he threw back his head and laughed. ‘You are so…’ he shook his head and tried to settle down. When he had a hold of himself, he glanced over at her now sullen expression. ‘Honey, you need to chill. Actually, you need to let your hair down a little! Always so concerned with what’s right and wrong… what about, what’s sensible or fun?’

  ‘I wasn’t aware that spending time in lock-up was sensible or fun,’ she seethed, making him chuckle again.

  ‘I’ll be okay. Besides, the traffic laws are a lot more lenient here than back home and-’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  Ryan paused, taking the question verbatim at first, before hearing the question beneath the question. How DID he know that? He ran his hand through his hair and leaned his elbow on his open window, frowning at the nothingness behind him. ‘I don’t know,’ he said honestly. ‘The doctors don’t know either, but I’m not as rare a case as I’d like to think. I’ve retained information, just not personal information. And because I don’t remember any personal experiences, I don’t know what I know until something triggers it. Like you with your Gilbert Blythe- I’ve seen that movie heaps of times, I just didn’t know until I Googled him and saw a photo and then the movie title and it all came back, you know- scenes from the movie, lines... Or with playing the guitar- I didn’t know I could do it, until I was doing it and the moment I started playing one song, my fingers remembered all of these other ones.’ He glanced over at her, relieved that she’d stopped glaring and now wore a contemplative look. ‘So yeah, I can remember that trying to get a license down under is even harder than trying to get a firearm there, nowadays. I know how to drive on the wrong side of the road here and yes- it feels like the wrong side, and a few minutes ago, I went to push an automatic power window button that I don’t have and cannot remember ever working, but know that I have worked before...’

  ‘Melody… come to me… I live and breathe…’

  ‘Shit.’ Ryan reached for the dial on the radio and clicked it back to Imogen’s old favourite station, silencing the rock ballad before his skin could completely break out in goose pimples. ‘That fucking song…’

  ‘Whoa.’ Leigh leaned back and stared at him. ‘That’s like, the anthem for the naughties- I danced at my prom to that! Why the bad juju? You don’t like Lonesome October?’

  ‘Try a little tenderness’ was halfway through, and Ryan’s accelerated pulse immediately began to settle. ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ he said gruffly. ‘But that song makes me…’ his throat closed over and he shook his head, waving his hand away. ‘I don’t know okay? It’s just like the driving thing…’

  ‘Wow…’ Leigh shook her head. ‘That’s weird. You might want to keep the radio on old stations for the next few weeks though, because Hunter Marks is touring right now so they’ve been flogging that song everywhere, even though he hasn’t been with that band for years.’

  Ryan sighed. He’d actually love to go to a Hunter Marks concert- but not if he was doing THAT song. Ryan didn’t know why it chilled him so, but it did. ‘That’s okay. I can groove with the classics for a few weeks.’

  ‘Do you think you were this eclectic before the accident?’

  Ryan nodded. ‘I must have been. Music doesn’t strike me as something that ever leaves someone’s heart, you know?’

  ‘True. Must be frustrating though- it’s like everything you do is reflexive, or instinctual.’

  ‘Exactly. Which is how I know that I haven’t read The Hardest Fall before, because the names are doing nothing for me, other than my own,’ he paused, pursing his lips in a smile before letting it slide into a grin. ‘And it’s also how I know that I’ll be good in bed… ‘cos of the dreams, you know?’

  Leigh snorted. ‘Yeah well, your date from last night wasn’t exactly beating down my door this morning, desperate for your return, was she? So maybe you need to have your penis reflexes tested…’

  Ryan tickled the bottom of his top teeth with his tongue. ‘The sight of one of your suspenders a few minutes ago had it reflexing just fine…’ he shifted his hips in his drivers seat and let his knees fall open invitingly. ‘But if you want to double check… by all means…’

  Leigh scowled at him and smoothed her skirt. ‘Doctors do it with a hammer though, don’t they? If that’s the case, I volunteer to take a swing!’

  Ryan had completely forgotten about the girl from the night before- and he’d also forgotten to clue Leigh in on the fact that though he’d gone to her room, he hadn’t defiled her (or whatever it was Leigh thought men did to poor, whorish women). He opened his mouth to say so, but then clamped it shut. She’d been a lot cooler with him since he’d left the bar, and he had a feeling that she was turned off flirting with him because she really did believe that he was a whore now.

  The less she likes me- the less she’ll flirt back or give me ‘those’ eyes and tempt me to cross her line. Best to keep my mouth shut and let her think me a creep, than reach for her and prove it so, yeah?

  Ryan smiled, steering onto his street. ‘Those are awfully small hammers…’ he mused. ‘I don’t have memories of my prior conquests no, but I do have physical proof that, well… you’re a sweet, untouched innocent so let’s just say: you’re going to need a much, MUCH bigger hammer to put a dent in my, uh… self confidence.’

  Leigh went rigid on the seat beside him as they pulled onto his driveway. He glanced at her, pleased to note that not only had she turned as red as the leather seats, but that her eyes were full of ire and her perfect little lips had practically flattened into one thin line. The expression was amusing, but hardly sexy and Ryan laughed as he turned off the engine, relived.

  ‘I’m joking Leigh…’

  ‘I know,’ Leigh said tersely, staring down at the book she’d pulled into her lap- his book, and probably thinking of how badly the author, or Imogen, had stuffed up by choosing the name ‘Ryan Weaver’ for the hero. The strange, wistful glint in her eyes made something inside him hurt and he opened his car door and got out, moving to her side of the car to open it for her.

  She really is too uptight for me. And that’s what’s got me all hot and bothered, isn’t it? Knowing that I CAN’T have it? It’s so infantile… what would I even do with her anyway? Man, it would take me hours just to break her in… oh sweet merciful crap, do NOT go there Ryan! Aren’t you sweaty and testy enough?

  ‘We’re here,’ he said quickly, opening her door and praying that the house would impress her enough to gloss over the last few minutes in her mind.

  But Leigh didn’t appear to hear him- she’d already ducked beneath his arm and was running. Not striding- but darting across his lawn as though he’d pulled up in front of a biker’s den instead of Imogen’s looming Victorian. Ryan closed the door behind her, gob smacked and wondering what the hell she was up to, until he saw something small, brown and furry running even faster in
front of her. Once he’d realised her ambition, Ryan’s face almost cracked under the width of his abrupt smile.

  Ha ha… maybe there is a reason why they filled colonies full of people like us...

  ‘I just want to like, squeeze you!’ Leigh cried, resting against the trunk of the rusted white oak that dominated Imogen’s front lawn. She attempted to sneak around the side of the truck and surprise the squirrel that had also paused, seemingly for breath, but the leaf litter crackled under the weight of her first step and the squirrel took off again. Its little legs powered it swiftly towards the furthest corner of the house, and before Leigh had taken her fourth step, the creature was out of sight, safe from her adoration once again. ‘No!’ Leigh gripped the hem of her full skirt and tugged down on it in frustration, before turning back to Ryan and pouting. ‘It got away.’

  Ryan’s laugh came as naturally as her returning scowl did. ‘Yeah, they do that…’ he moved toward the back of the car and popped the button on the boot, feeling warm again. ‘But I tell yah what, you gave it the best damned shot I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘Don’t laugh at me,’ Leigh began to trot towards him, looking back over her shoulder every few seconds to blink up at the house. ‘I said good-bye to being cool a good twenty years ago. If I see a squirrel, I’m gonna chase it. At least until the novelty wears off.’

  Ryan smiled, pulling her suitcase out of her bag. ‘I’m not judging you, fellow Aussie. The novelty still hasn’t worn off for me either- you just beat me to it that time.’

  Leigh looked back at him, a pleased smile on her face. ‘You chase squirrels too?’

  Ryan put her suitcase on the ground and then, reached for her carry-on bag while she grabbed the handle of her luggage and collected her handbag off the ground. He made no move to get the heaviest bag out of her hands- she’d already lectured him back in the hotel driveway about such sexist behaviour. ‘I spent basically my first two weeks of consciousness doing that. Imogen thought I was nuts, but I was on meds and covered in bandages so yeah, I probably looked a little nuts.’

  Leigh tittered. ‘Then why did you laugh at me?’

  Ryan glanced down at the back of her shapely legs as she strode up the driveway. She didn’t teeter in heels like most girls- she waltzed. He liked the way she did that; changed outfits constantly, and her entire appearance with it- almost like a superhero slipping into a costume; Rock-a-billy one day, Anne of Green Gables later that night, then siren in a mini dress later the next evening. Any other girl who took her attire so seriously and changed up her look so drastically ought to have been a pain in the ass, but there was nothing superficial about Leigh; she was both a Barbie AND a doll who was grimly determined to be herself, even if that meant chasing a squirrel in something so dressy and risking being laughed at, and that was sexy.

  Plus, every move she made, whether it be the way she tugged the bag up the slight incline behind her or took off in pursuit, made her golden limbs twitch and flex, demonstrating that despite her polished, book-loving surface, she was an athletic ball of energy who probably only sat to read or write.

  And you’re now stuck with basking in her glory without stroking such glory, for four nights in a row. Well done man. What- you don’t like sleep? You excited to get all attached to another woman just for her to board a plane overseas and never come back again?

  ‘It’s just that usually when a woman’s wearing a skirt and heels in the presence of a rodent, she’s up on a chair- not chasing it.’ He paused before adding truthfully: ‘I like that about you.’

  Leigh stopped in her tracks and for a moment, Ryan feared that the tenderness that had crept into his heart towards her had been apparent in his words, and he instantly wanted to take them back before she could read too much into them. It was okay if she knew that he wanted her, but if she worked out that he was developing actual feelings for her, he’d be a dead man. He wasn’t looking for a girlfriend and she was looking for a husband- nothing good could come from him falling for her, or her being aware of it- only hurt feelings on both sides.

  But you know what… if we stay in contact, who’s to say that what can’t be now, will remain out of reach?

  Ryan forgot about his stairs and ran his eyes up the girl, wondering if there was a ‘cool’ way to say: ‘I think I might like you, so can you hold a place in your heart for me, just in case I stop obsessing over my brown-eyed girl?’ But Leigh was staring at his front stoop and apparently, had forgotten that he was there at all; let alone analysing his every utterance.

  ‘Oh my god!’ She put down her suitcase and began digging through her handbag for something and Ryan groaned, embarrassed. The front porch steps were drooping and in desperate need of a white wash, and it killed him that she’d noticed the one shitty thing about the exterior of the house after all the labouring he’d done to get the front yard looking decent.

  ‘Those steps!’ Leigh turned around and thrust her phone at him. ‘Ryan, not to be a pain but could you take a photo of me sitting there?’ She was already sitting though, arranging her skirt and grinning up at him rhapsodically.

  ‘What? Why?’ Ryan tried to get her in the frame, but she was fluffing her hair and so the camera resisted focusing. ‘You’re not going to embarrass me on your blog are you?’

  ‘Why would you be embarrassed?’ Leigh asked, and then quietened to smile while he quietened to get his thumb on the right place on the screen to take the picture. The screen blinked then displayed the captured to his gaze, making him smile. It was perfect- from the dappled shadows across her lower legs, to the angel within the morning halo of light above. He handed the phone over and she checked it, nodding in approval before she put it back into her bag.

  ‘Because my steps look like hell,’ he explained, taking his keys out of his pocket. ‘And now someone’s gonna see that and come over and condemn the place.’

  But Leigh laughed. ‘No way! They’re beautiful! These are steps that have seen a gazillion feet, and newspapers and spilled coffee and newlyweds and...’ she sighed dreamily as she rose, staring down at the stoop beneath her as though it were more spectacular to behold than the falls were. She scuffed her little toe along the peeling paint. ‘I want steps just like this, some day...’

  Ryan wondered if it were possible for someone’s heart to sweat because if it were, the dreamy smile on Leigh’s face would have done it. He stepped forward, knowing that he had no words to explain what he felt for her in that moment more succinctly than just kissing her could relay, but she noticed the keys in his hand instead of what had to be the utterly hypnotised look in his eyes, and giggled, skating to the side and beckoning him past.

  ‘Sorry, you probably need to pee or something, right? You haven’t even had a chance to use the bathroom this morning yet, and here I am babbling on and taking photo ops.’

  Ryan still couldn’t think of anything to say, so he smiled wanly and approached the door, feeling slightly shaky and incredibly grateful that her babbling had saved him from what could have been a potentially deal-breaking moment.

  Okay, okay… you want her. Maybe more than a lot, and maybe for longer than a few days- but that’s a big fucking maybe, buddy! Think it through, take your time… and brush your fucking teeth before you even think about kissing her again!

  Leigh hurried up the steps and stood expectantly by the front door, her head twisting about again like a terrier poking its face out of someone’s handbag. ‘Oooh, there’s the swing! Exactly how I imagined it too!’ She pressed her hands against the door, running her fingers gently down the wooden veneer. ‘Fresh paint. Isn’t that smell just awesome?’

  Ryan twisted the key in the lock and smiled, thinking that this was the first time that opening this door had felt like coming home since Imogen had closed it behind her.

  Sixteen

  Walking into Ryan’s house felt like stepping into the page of not just one of Leigh’s favourite novels, but thousands. On the outside it was picture perfect, meeting her homey, gloomy, possibly
haunted ideals for what a Victorian home ought to look like, to the point where even the smallest details- from the tree he’d called an oak tree and the sagging porch steps and even the damned squirrel- felt like they’d been plucked from her imagination and staged as props to impress her. The outside was painted a dull, dried blood colour and the eaves and trim and shutters had been freshly brightened with a milky cream. The oak tree rained golden, russet and ochre leaves onto the ground in a steady flow like antique tears leaking, and the houses around it were equally picturesque, looming and casting pretty shadows that Leigh knew she’d feel no trace of chill beneath with her imagination as a companion. She had stared up at the tower and the soot-stained chimney and had had to blink back wistful tears- this was HER house. The fact that it belonged to anyone else, even Ryan, made her heart pang with notes of possession and envy.

  But, of course, it was Ryan’s house and his statuesque form framed by the door only added to Leigh’s desire to not only possess the home, but to share it with a husband who looked just like him. He’d opened the door and ushered her inside with one of his many thousands of secret smiles making his eyes dance. Leigh was no fool- that smile said: ‘I’ve got this bitch now!’ and every perfect tooth warranted it. He had her, all right- hook line and sinker. If Leigh thought it would work, she’d drop to her knees and beg to be the perfect bride to the perfect man with the perfect house and perfect car- just so that she could stay a little longer.

  And she may have too, only the fact that he’d spent the night weeping and calling: ‘I love you’ to no one, before mocking her fashion sense behind her back to Bruce. Him liking her suspenders didn’t cancel that out.

  ‘This is it,’ Ryan shrugged out of his black leather jacket as soon as he’d brought in the suitcases she’d dropped in her delirium. He closed the front door and then opened another one beside it, hanging his jacket and then motioning for her to turn so that he could take her cardigan. It was chilly inside the house, even colder than outside, but he’d already rested his hands against her collar and her skin sang so sweetly at his touch that she swallowed and allowed him to slip the fabric down her arms. Her stomach muscles tightened when he reached her wrists and began to work off the cuffs- electricity shooting across her palm from where his long fingers tickled her skin, and when he looked up and smiled as he freed her, she grew warm enough to do without the woollen shrug.