Sting

by Jennifer Ryder

  Wanna come back to my place and practise making some?

  “Yeah, one day. There’s just a few vital pieces missing.” She gives me a weary smile.

  Whoa. That’s deep. Not sure I should get any further into this conversation. Not that I don’t want to.

  I extend my hand. She eyes it suspiciously, and then slowly slips her hand in mine, gauging my reaction as she does.

  I give her a wink. “Come on. Guess I better put these muscles to work and build something.”

  She laughs softly, as I lead her towards a very excitable three-year-old.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  WILLOW

  “The sand’s too dry. It needs to be wetter to hold its shape,” I direct Ryan, flicking some sand in his direction. The wind carries it further than I expect, dusting his perfectly sculptured chest. Really, guys like him should not be able to walk around half-naked. I’ve had a hard time not staring at him, and typically, when I have, he’s caught me and then grinned like an idiot.

  He huffs out a long breath and smiles brightly, giving me a perfect view of his white teeth, and the suitably delicious dimple in his left cheek to boot. Sigh. It’s a beautiful sight, and for a moment I wonder if I’ll be seeing his smile more often. It certainly wouldn’t be a bad thing.

  “You criticising my castle-making skills isn’t doing anything for my ego,” he drawls.

  “It’s simple, really. Sandcastles 101. The sand has to be wet enough. Just offering friendly advice, aren’t I, Princess?”

  “Yes,” Sienna says with a dramatic nod. “More seashells,” she screeches, as she passes Ryan a bucket loaded with seashells that we spent the better half of the last hour collecting. He takes a few from the container and places them in a line at the base of the castle.

  “Okay, okay,” Ryan says. “No need to get bossy, young lady. You’re working my fingers to the bone.”

  Sienna crawls over and takes Ryan’s closest hand. One by one, she carefully inspects each finger.

  “No, I not,” she says and giggles. “You funny, muscles.”

  I laugh out loud, and Ryan lets out a hearty chuckle.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “You just let me know if you’re happy with the shell placement. Gotta get this perfect.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think there’s a certain little girl who has you wrapped around their finger. Do you have kids of your own?”

  “Nope,” he says, popping the P.

  “A wife?”

  Gah! Face palm moment. I’ve gone too far. I’ve just opened the door to questions. I couldn’t help myself. How could a guy like this—polite, handsome, and good with kids—be single? Unattached? What am I missing here? He doesn’t seem like the nut-job type. Surely my internal alarm bells would be ringing like crazy if he was. But then again, I’ve been duped before.

  He raises an eyebrow, and his mouth quirks to the side. “No, Blondie.”

  I love it when he calls me that.

  He dusts the sand off his hands by clapping them together, and runs his long fingers through his hair, smoothing the stray longer pieces of sandy-brown strands that the wind has blown forward.

  “I’ve got a few of my own missing pieces,” he continues.

  Holy sharks. Is it bad that I’m swooning? That I’m wondering if I could be one of those pieces?

  Open mouthed, “Oh,” is all I can respond with. Our eyes lock in a trance, and it’s not until a large cold rain drop crashes on my skin that I tear my eyes away.

  A loud eeeeep noise from Sienna makes both of us jump as the rain hits.

  “Okay, I think we’d better pack up before we get drenched,” I say. A crack of thunder has Sienna and I jumping out of our skins.

  “I’d argue that we don’t need another wet T-shirt contest, but I’d be lying,” he says, with a naughty wink.

  “You know, Sienna’s right. You are funny.”

  I quickly gather up our things and Ryan carries Sienna on his broad shoulders towards my car. She gets a bit excited and yanks some of the longer tufts of hair on each side of his head like they’re reins.

  “Take it easy, cowgirl,” he says, his grin forced.

  Ryan helps me load everything into the car, and without as much resistance as she normally gives, Sienna is compliant in being strapped into her car seat.

  I jump in the driver’s seat, start the car and lower down the window as Ryan approaches my door. He places one arm on the roof of the car and sweeps his hand through his wet hair, slicking it down. Mmm, what a pleasant sight. Raindrops join to form lines as they travel down his shoulders and over each delicious curve of his abs.

  He taps twice on the roof. “Guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow,” he says and smiles, giving me one last impression of that dimple for the day.

  Am I ready to say goodbye, though?

  “Kiss bye-bye?” Sienna says loudly, reminding me that I do in fact have a small child in the car. I turn around to see her little lips puckered, her arms outstretched and fingers wiggling in his direction.

  Ryan leans closer into the window-frame. “You save your sweet kisses for someone your own age, Princess,” he says.

  “Kiss Lolo,” she says, leaning forward in her car seat and pointing at me. The harness strains to support her squirming frame. So not cool, Sienna. We’re definitely going to have to have a talk about this later.

  Ryan clears his throat. I turn to him, I’m sure with a bright red face.

  “How about it?” he offers, waggling his eyebrows. “Gotta give the princess what she wants.”

  “I don’t give my sweet kisses out as easily as Sienna here,” I say and smile.

  “Now that’s a damn shame,” he says.

  A crack of thunder, louder than last time, booms in the distance. The rain pelts hard against the bonnet of the car, so much so it’s deafening.

  “Do you want a ride home?” I yell out. Am I out of my mind offering this? I barely know this guy, and normally I’m so cautious. I just have a feeling about him, a knowing, that he’s okay. He’s been really awesome with Sienna too, much to my surprise. Guys don’t normally put in that much effort with kids. And I can’t leave him here in this weather. God knows how far it is to his place, but I’m not a person who can just let someone fend for him or herself. My parents taught me better than that.

  “You sure?” he says, narrowing his eyes in some kind of show of concern.

  Boom!

  His head jerks towards the sky. “Jesus,” he says in shock.

  “Get in, Ryan. I can’t be responsible for you being fried to a crisp.” That would be a great tragedy.

  He runs around the bonnet of my car and rushes into the front seat.

  “Thanks,” he says and fastens his seatbelt. “Sorry, I’m wet,” he says and waggles his eyebrows. I follow a rogue drop of rain which runs over his shoulder and down the bulge of his bicep, drawing my gaze to his lap.

  Well, dang. That makes two of us.

  How freakin’ embarrassing if he knew. I clear my throat, grip the steering wheel and set the wipers to high speed.

  Within the confines of the car, his presence is amplified tenfold. It’s so surreal, because since Jacob, I haven’t had another man in the car with me. Of course, the first time I do since then, it’s a total hottie. I guess it’s about time my luck turned around.

  “It’s no problem. So where am I headed?”

  “South Street,” he says. A stone’s throw from my place. Lucky again.

  As I drive the familiar streets of Freo with the windscreen wipers on high, I feel his eyes trained on me. I take the occasional glance his way without turning my head. His brown eyes travel a slow course from my face, down my chest, and linger on my thighs.

  Not even Sienna singing crazily out of tune can distract me from him.

  A few streets later, I am completely and utterly flustered. My face is hot, my heart is beating faster than it should be, and I’m sweating. The dampness between my legs is, well, the only word I can
use to describe it is ridiculous.

  My body knows what it wants from this gentle giant.

  To be held.

  To be touched.

  To be taken.

  “Just here on the left,” he says and points towards a block of units.

  I jerk on the wheel, snapping out of my daze. I pull into the driveway and come to a quick stop beside a brick wall of mailboxes.

  “Thanks for the lift. I appreciate it. You as good as saved my life, Blondie.” Sugar. There he goes, flashing that dangerous dimple again.

  “No problem.”

  He twists his body and grips the corner of my seat as he leans to face Sienna. “And that, Princess, was fantastic singing. I can safely say I’ve never had the pleasure of hearing anything like it.”

  “Tank-you,” she says, all kinds of sweet.

  Ryan turns to me. Did I just imagine him puffing his chest up before he leant in closer?

  “Last chance today for that kiss,” he says, his voice low and handsomely hoarse. He runs his tongue between his lips, wetting them. Of course my eyes take in every moment of it. Every sweet moment.

  “Do it, do it,” Sienna chimes, and kicks the back of Ryan’s seat. Kids sure know how to kill a moment.

  “Um, that’s a lovely offer, but perhaps another time. Like when I don’t have such a lively audience.”

  He chuckles. “Give me your hand,” he demands.

  Without a second thought I extend my left hand, which still bears the indent on my ring finger. He takes my hand in his, and places a soft, open-mouthed kiss on the top.

  The heat from his tender lips and the slight presence of tongue on my skin has me melting further into my seat. I can’t stop myself from squeezing my legs together as I try and extinguish the desire centring there. A prickling shiver runs a course inside me, and I gasp quietly. It’s loud enough for him to notice.

  “I had to leave you with something.” He places my hand on the gear stick and pats it twice.

  Well, that was certainly something.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” I say, my voice semi-caught in my throat.

  “Absolutely. Tomorrow,” he says.

  I watch him walk—well it’s more of a strut really—towards what looks like the main entrance to the units.

  “Big mussies,” Sienna says, drawing my head from the fog.

  “Yeah, Princess. Big Mussies.”

  If things go well, I’ll be dreaming about them tonight.

  CHAPTER NINE

  RYAN

  What an afternoon. Here I was thinking a run would do me the world of good. Get the girl out of my head. Nope. Not happening.

  Willow, in a wet white T-shirt.

  I couldn’t have dreamt that shit up. And there she was, maternal, patient, giving me shit about my sandcastles, but I couldn’t care less. I got to spend time with her. Got a little bit of an insight into things, more about Sienna’s life and that cluster-fuck of a situation—poor kid—but not much more out of Willow.

  I strip down and get into the shower, raging boner and all.

  When she’d asked me about having a wife, the puzzled look on her face had taken me by surprise. She seemed interested enough to ask if I were taken, and then she kind of clammed up. Maybe she’s just shy. She seemed a little more relaxed today than she normally is at the café. Perhaps she regretted asking, because that’s one less obstacle in our way.

  I so want to have my way with her. Every which fucking way.

  Fuck.

  ****

  After pulling myself again in the shower, I resign myself to the fact that I need to be pro-active about this. Clearly, Willow is not the kind of girl who’s gonna throw herself at me. Funnily enough, I don’t want her to. That’s never really worked for me, anyhow.

  I never thought this day would come, but I need advice. And of all people, it’s from my sister. As much as I love Mum, I don’t need her getting involved. I’d never hear the end of it. Every conversation from here on in would consist of pressing me for information on the likely conception date of her grandchildren. Even though Cass will likely piss herself laughing, and no doubt throw my former slutty ways in my face, she’ll tell it to me straight. I can always rely on Cass to do that.

  I’ve never really felt a connection with someone like I do with Willow. It’s all kinds of strange, because I barely know her. For the longest time I haven’t wanted to get to know someone. Now, I do.

  The last couple of years on task have been about loneliness. I’ve had a few one-nighters here and there, but I’m playing a role. I’m always on the job. I’m focused on what I need to get things done. It’s what I do, and it’s what makes me one of the best.

  I dial her number before I turn into a pussy and change my mind.

  “Hey Ryan. It’s good to hear from you. How’s things?”

  “Good, Cass. Always hectic, but I’m enjoying the location. Bit of a sea change.”

  “You lucky bugger.”

  “How’s Mum?”

  She exhales loudly. “You know. Same as usual. The first couple of weeks after you leave are always hard, and then she’s back to normal. She’ll be happy to hear that you’ve made contact.”

  “That’s good. Tell her not to worry.”

  “She’s got other things on her mind anyway.”

  “Like what?”

  Cass huffs. “I was going to send you an email in a few weeks to contact me, because I never know when you’ll get a chance to call.” Her tone carries an element of worry. It causes a sinking feeling in my gut. When it comes to Mum, I always overreact. Love will do that to you. Call me a fuckin’ mummy’s boy, I don’t give a shit, but I’d go to the ends of the earth, do anything, for that woman.

  “Talk to me,” I demand. If shit is happening with my family I need to know. I might be a long way away, but I have people I can trust close by to home if I need to call on them.

  “Yeah, everything’s great. Well, apart from the morning sickness.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m eight weeks’ pregnant. The little jellybean is torturing me already.”

  Wow. I’m gonna be an uncle. Uncle Ryan. Has a nice ring to it. And just like that, I miss my family. Hell, it makes me wonder why I’m not hurrying up and having one of my own.

  “Mum’s already picking out nursery furniture,” she says with a soft chuckle. Relief settles in, quashing the uneasiness from before.

  “Congratulations. You and Jeremy must be stoked. I didn’t know you guys were trying. I mean, I kinda knew it was on the cards, but that’s really awesome. Couldn’t be happier.”

  “Yeah, thanks. We got pregnant straight away. Jeremy’s been skiting about how his sperm has super powers. Magic swimmers.”

  “That’s all well and good, but I don’t really need to be hearing about his jizz, Cass.”

  “Ha ha. So what’s up with you? Everything good?”

  Here we go. Time to spill and talk about feelings.

  “So, there’s this girl …” I trail off.

  “Oooooooh,” she taunts. Bitch.

  “Can we be serious for a sec, here?” This is hard enough to do as it is.

  “Okay, okay. Tell me about this girl, then.”

  “She’s a bit of a mystery. We’ve been dancing around each other ever since I arrived. The attraction is definitely there, from both sides, but she’s so, I dunno, guarded? There’s something holding her back, and it’s bugging the hell out of me. I’ve tried to be delicate about making a move, but she’s a hard nut to crack.”

  “Ha. You always were a sucker for a damsel. Can I be completely honest?”

  “Of course. Never stopped you before.”

  “Every girl can do with a friend.”

  Say what now?

  “I don’t want to be her friend, Cass. Far from it.”

  “Don’t be a dick, Ryan. Any relationship worth getting into needs a basis of friendship. Just try and be friends … you’ve been friends with a girl before, haven’t y
ou?”

  Have I? I’m pretty sure I haven’t.

  “Um, not that I haven’t slept with.”

  “Well, if you wanna find a girl worth keeping, you’ll have to try.”

  If Cass could see me now, she’d bear witness to the mother of all eye-rolls.

  “So what do friends do?” I ask, feigning enthusiasm.

  “Try finding out what she’s interested in. If she wants you to know, she’ll tell you. If she shares that about herself and talks to you some more, that’s a good sign.”

  “I heard her talking the other day about her garden.”

  “Offer to help her, then.”

  My sister has a point. Nice tactic. Why the fuck couldn’t I think of that?

  “Yeah, I could do that.”

  “You must really like her if you’re ringing me for advice.”

  “No need to get all high and mighty about it.”

  “I’m not. I’m just glad you’re finally starting to think with your heart, instead of your dick.”

  I hate it when my sister is right.

  “Guess there’s a first for everything,” I admit. “Alright, I’ve gotta go. Thanks for, you know—”

  “Anytime. I’ll send you some of baby’s first pics. The ultrasound is booked in in a couple of weeks.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Bye.”

  I disconnect the call and chuckle to myself. Uncle Ryan. Damn. I’m already thinking about Christmas time and buying all the toys and shit. I’m gonna be the fun uncle. The one they come to when their mum and dad are giving them grief. When they’re learning to ride a bike, drive a car. Fuck. That shit seems like a lifetime away, but I can’t wait.

  From the safe, I pull out a small black book, with a few phone numbers stored. Of course I know my sister’s number off by heart, but I can’t have any personal contacts in my phone. Better to be safe about this shit.

  Whilst I think Cass has a point, I need a man’s opinion. There’s one guy who I know will tell it to me straight. Aidan Stone. He bagged a treasure like Eevie. What I witnessed between Aidan and Eevie, when we were dealing with the blackmail and the takedown, was something incredible. Total and utter devotion to each other, no matter what stood in their way. The lengths they went through for love … to be together. That I will never forget.