“Let me take a picture.” Mom reached for her cell phone on the coffee table. “You both look nice. Don’t they, Bob?”
Dad nodded.
We posed with Ryan’s arm around my shoulder. After Mom snapped two photos, I was more than ready to go. The chance of being embarrassed increased every second, especially as Dad sipped more of the wine from his glass that rested by his chair.
“I’m ready if you are,” I hoped he'd take my cue.
“Mr. and Mrs. Young, I want you to know I've always have such a hard time looking away from your daughter. She’s taken my breath away from the moment I saw her.” He took my hand in his. Although he spoke to my parents, he looked only into my eyes.
Ooh, I’ll miss this.
“Thank you.” His words always shake me.
“You look . . . so pretty.” His eyes sparkled.
“You look nice, too. Then again, you always look good even when you wear your T-shirts. So, anyway . . .” I'm nervous, nervous, nervous. I want to bite my cuticles. When Ryan chuckled at my T-shirt comment, I looked away from him before he put me into a trance.
I noticed my dad focusing. My parents wore the biggest smiles I'd seen from them in a long while. Neither had any idea of how powerful their gestures of approval were.
To Jenise and me, they meant we could relax.
They meant love.
They meant everything could be all right.
“We’ll be in late, so don’t wait up, Mr. and Mrs. Young.” Ryan shook their hands. “I’ll make sure she’s safe.”
“Byeeeeee, you two,” Jenise said in a long, exaggerated voice from the top of the stairs. I could see invisible horns sprouting from her head.
“Bye, Nicky’s lovely sister.” Ryan’s stunning grin was on display. I knew I'd never see anything like it again. He took my right hand in his and brought it around his waist.
I was an absolute wreck and could hardly stand to touch him. As we started out the door, his left arm went around my shoulder.
I’ll never make it down the driveway.
It was the second time we had walked out of my front door holding onto each other that way. I turned to see my parents waving goodbye. I waved back. Suddenly sentimental, I realized a time would soon come when they wouldn’t be there to see me off. For that moment however, their attentiveness embarrassed me.
Ryan drove an SUV that afternoon. He opened the car door for me. I hesitated. How do I get around his body when he won't step aside? My stomach knotted. When he moved closer, I thought I’d drop to the ground.
“God, you look beautiful.” He kissed my cheek.
“My sister helped me. I’ve never taken so long to get ready for a date. I almost forgot to put my shoes on before I came downstairs. Then I couldn't find my wallet, and I hate these heels you know? I can't walk in them. You might have to catch me as I fall in front of everyone, so be ready. Anyway, thanks for the compliment.”
A delicious smile showed his amusement as he waited for me to get settled. He closed the passenger door and while he came around to the driver's side, I examined him thoroughly. I appreciated the way he’d dressed.
“You look nice in your vest and slacks. Where are we going?”
“My brother and his wife are in town. They’re staying at the Embarcadero Hotel and I’d like you to meet them. We’ll just talk for a while and then leave for dinner. Is that all right with you?”
“Sure.”
“Nicky, the way you look, I didn’t expect you to . . .” He let the words hang.
“You didn’t think I’d dress up for you?”
“I didn’t know what you’d do.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I can’t figure out what you’re thinking.”
“Well, I did almost put on a pair of sweatpants.” I saw his shoulders drop in relief, as if a little icicle had broken away. “I’m just kidding.” I put my hand on his arm and stroked it a few times. “You were probably worried I would, huh? Thank God, I dressed this way. Look at you. You call that casual?”
“I, um . . .” He blushed as he gathered his thoughts. “I couldn’t decide what to wear.”
You were fretting over me? Sweet.
“Maybe we can get a room while we’re at the hotel so our primping doesn’t go to waste.” He looked at me from the corner of his eye.
“I didn’t do all this just to get tossed around.” Maybe this isn’t goodbye after all. “I’m sorry my parents feel as if they have to greet you. It’s a little embarrassing, but I guess in their eyes I’m still their little girl.”
“I wish I had parents to see me off on my dates.” Tones of sadness weaved in and out of his voice.
“Ryan?” I have to get this out.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. I should have.”
“I accept your apology.”
“Are you upset?" I'm waiting for the boom to drop. "I don't know how to talk about this.” I tugged on my earrings.
“If I'm being honest, I don’t get it. You wanted more time with me; you even initiated when we went to Sammy’s. We had a sweet night together in your room and you spent an entire day checking on my contacts. Then the surprise in Yountville—I still don’t understand. I know you enjoyed the day, yet all I got from you that night was the brush off because you were tired. When you landed in LA . . . couldn’t you have called and talked to me a few minutes? You’ve never given me the impression of someone who takes a kindness for granted. What the hell happened?”
“I don’t take a kindness—”
“I don’t understand why you didn’t phone me at all,” he interrupted. “Not even when you came home.”
“I did, though. I called the day I went to Yountville both during the day and when I got back around nine. I couldn't reach you. I tried several times. I knew your game had been over with a while. You weren't around for me.”
“Like when I called and you were at the beach?” he said knowingly.
“Yes, but—”
“You couldn’t have taken a few minutes to say hello? Not for my entire road trip?” He was rolling like a snowball, gaining momentum with each word, the same as I’d done with him so many times. “I tried you a dozen times. No, more than that actually. I finally gave up.”
“Why didn’t you keep trying?” I turned my palms up as if my hands had asked the question.
“I tried every day after you got back from LA. For five days I tried, Nicky.” His tone was stern and reflected disappointment. “How many times did you expect me to keep calling to get you to pick up or get back to me?”
I looked out the window. I didn’t know how to answer him.
“Your silence told me you weren’t interested.” He bravely continued. “Did you lose interest? Should I keep trying?”
“I’m interested.” I may have not known exactly how to explain myself, but I knew what he was saying to me.
“Were you still upset with how abrupt I was on the phone when you accused me of being with someone else?”
“No. I accepted your apology and I meant it. I was . . . well, I, um, I really don’t know how to describe what I felt."
"Try."
"Okay." I took a deep breath. "After being in LA with Alex, I didn’t want to be serious—with anyone. Calling you again would have brought me back into your world too soon.”
“I see."
Silence.
"See what?" I pushed.
"The adjustment I need to make,” he said confidently. “I know what I need to do to get your attention. I want you to see me . . . now you'll see me.”
“Get my attention?” I smiled nervously.
“Yes.” He made no apologies. His hands flexed on the wheel.
I’m going to faint. I’d better hold onto something. Should I give him a warning? Is my face pale? Did I bring some blush?
“What is this adjustment?” I tilted my head, trying to stay involved in the conversation.
“You’ll see it all unfold, Nicky. In
fact, you’ll feel it all unfold.” He looked straight ahead.
Just let me rest my head on some pillow. I’ll open my mouth, listen to him talk, and let the lust flow out in some primordial ooze.
“I love this hotel.” We pulled into valet parking. “See how the glass elevators go up the side of the building? And the structure—it's geometrical, see how it cuts in an angle? Jenise said the design approval took three years.”
He looked at me with his wry grin.
“You know?” Don't start already with your sexy looks.
“You’re sure cute when you talk about your sister. It's obvious you’re proud of her. Your face lights up.”
“I am proud of her. The way she picked herself up . . . I hope she can design a project as big as this one someday.” I felt my body expand with pride for my sister. “Have you ever seen it decorated during the holidays?”
Slow down, Nicky.
“I’m usually back East with my family or taking a vacation that time of year since it's the off season. I've got to fit in my personal time from November through January. Mid-February—"
“The pitchers and catchers report. Yeah, that's right. You must see it, though. They have a thousand strands of lights hanging up and down the atrium from a dozen stories above the floor, several train displays, a huge Christmas tree with big, gaudy decorations and . . . ooh! Then the Embarcadero lights up with a fireworks show. We grab a soft pretzel and a dog . . . it’s great.” I was starting to ramble.
“What do you mean we grab a soft pretzel?" He turned to look at me, his lips forming a tempting grin.
"I mean, we, my friends and I, well," I cleared my throat. "I meant you and me. That's what I meant." I give in.
"Maybe we can go there together this December,” he mused.
“Mm-hmm.” You’ll be tired of me by then. I've already caused each of us to take a time out from being together.
We left the car with the valet and walked into the lobby of the hotel. Within minutes, a number of people recognized Ryan and rushed over to him. Looking at me apologetically, his hand, previously resting on the small of my back, lifted slowly. He turned to greet his fans.
Having lunch together last year in St. Helena suddenly popped into my mind. He'd made a comment that at the time, I'd brushed off: "It's especially difficult when I'm trying to pay attention to the woman I'm with and people won't leave me alone." I didn't understand what he'd meant by it until now—he had been talking about me that day!
I was overwhelmed with the feeling of wanting to run to him and give him a big hug, letting him know I’d just put the pieces together. Restraining myself for the sake of his privacy, I forced myself to hold back, keeping my moment of discovery to myself.
When he finished talking with the last fan, he took my hand. We walked over to the lounge area. About to go in, without warning, my body was taken into his masculine essence, wrapped tightly in his arms. The lips I’d missed so desperately took my mouth, making it moist, making it tingle and making me want more. Whispers covered me in delicate, lacy threads. It was as if some promise had been newly sealed in our soft moment. Our bodies pressed together as he rubbed my upper back, his chest expanding, his moans rising, and then much too soon, his body said good-bye. As he let go, I was reminded of how good it felt to be with him.
“Can you give me a second?" I was so weak for him. Whenever he kissed me like that, it was as if he started the primal beat of my heart’s rhythm. I lost the strength in my legs.
"Only a second," he teased deliciously. He leaned close and said in his low voice, “You’re such a fragile baby.”
“Shh, don't make it worse for me.”
“Should I carry you?” His eyes looked as if they were ready for a scandal.
“God, no! I just need . . . oh look, Ryan. Look at that beautiful flower display.” I pointed to the arrangement in the atrium, trying to distract him.
“I don’t want to look anywhere else.” His focus was only on me, pinning me with his gaze. “My only desire is to take in your sweet face, so I can watch you react to my kiss.”
Oh holy mother. Please look somewhere else.
“I’m all right now,” I said softly.
His wicked grin led us into the lounge.
“I really admire the way you’re so open with your emotions." I was nervous and off to the races. "I watch other couples, like Matt and Tara, and Alex and Darrell—even my school friends. They’re all reserved when they’re out in public. Sometimes it’s hard to tell they’re together; they don’t even hold hands. With you, it’s obvious and it feels good. Your girlfriends must have been in heaven being with you.”
“I’m glad you approve." He paused a few seconds. "But just to be clear, I’ve never had girlfriends or kissed a woman in public.”
What?
“You’re trying to make me feel special and thanks for that. I get it." I patted his arm. "Your sweet to be sensitive to my phobias.”
“No, Nicky. I’m not saying what I think you want to hear. I’ve never had a reason to show my affection in public before you. I’ve always been very guarded about my emotions.”
I couldn’t look away.
“What are you thinking?” he asked impatiently.
“I’m trying to process this.”
"Two?" the host asked.
"Yes, and somewhere quiet, please. My girlfriend has a lot on her mind."
I shot him a smile; almost giggling at the way he so naturally lightened a conversation . . . and then only a second later, buried me with passion and depth.
"Follow me." The host smiled and led us to a quiet corner. Ryan slipped him a few bills as we took our seats.
“Let's have a drink and talk before we go upstairs.”
“I thought you didn’t drink.” I raised my eyebrows, curious at this new twist.
“I don’t.” He went to the bar and came back to the table with two cranberry and orange juice drinks.
“I don’t drink, but I have tasted alcohol," I said when he sat down. "Plus, my friends drink so you don't need to feel like you have to protect me from it. If you want a beer or a cocktail, just have one.”
I need to get over the anxiety I have when someone drinks in a social way.
“You’re not twenty-one and you don’t need to drink or have a boyfriend who does. I wasn’t hiding anything when I told you I didn’t drink alcohol last year in St. Helena.”
“I believe you.”
“I need to talk to you before we see my brother.” Ryan looked directly in my eyes. His gaze was deep and I had a hard time returning it.
I knew his questions were beginning.
“I’m so hurt, Nicky. Why didn’t you call me?”
I started to answer.
“Why?" He leaned forward on the table. "I’m not an insensitive asshole and yet, you made me feel like one. I need to understand—you, of all people."
I stirred the ice in the cranberry drink.
"Paul told me how you stayed on stage for an hour in Yountville because you had so many song requests. I know they enjoyed you. I enjoyed getting your texts, yet after that, nothing except you were busy? I was really down.” He waited for an answer. I didn’t have one. I could only look down at the table. “I thought we were becoming close,” he started again. “After you invited me to talk at Sammy’s and we spent an innocent night together, I felt like we were sweethearts.”
His eyes welled with tears.
Instantly I felt ashamed.
I realized while sitting with him, I’d stabbed him by taking advantage of his kindness.
“I don’t know why I did that.” I rolled my glass between my palms.
“I felt used and was in a lot of pain. It was as if you were no different than any of the other women who try to hook up with me because I’m an athlete.”
I reached across the table and held his hand.
“I'd never do anything intentionally to make you feel like an object. I don’t give a damn that you play profession
al baseball other than I’m a fan of the team and I love to cheer you on. When I think of you, kindness and generosity are the first things that come to mind, not baseball.”
“I believe you, still . . . you left a kind man waiting for your hello.” He stared at our entwined hands.
“I’m ashamed.” I looked at the table. "And embarrassed."
“Tell me why you felt you couldn’t call me,” he prodded. “I heard what you said about LA and the way it took you into another world. I’ve already told you I support that part of your life. What’s the real reason?”
“Being in LA made me realize that our timing isn’t right.” I felt the pressure pounding in my head. “I’ll hold you back."
"How?"
"My insecurities will rise up. They always do, Ryan. I've already caused you trouble because of my fears. I can’t compete with the other women out there. They can give you what you want. I can’t. I’m too inexperienced. Shall I go on? I've got a long list.”
There, I said it. Now you understand, you're better off with someone your age.
“What do you mean, our timing? Timing of what?” he redirected. “Tell me why you feel that way. I need to know. I need to hear what you have to say so I can understand you.”
I don’t even understand myself. How do I explain that the only example of a relationship I’ve seen is my parents, and that example is twisted?
I can’t take the chance that you’ll trade me for a vice like the bottle my father coveted.
I can't take the chance time with the guys is more important than time with me. They'll take you away the same as my father let his friends take him away from Mom.
I can't take the chance another woman catches your eye.
I can't bear to hear, "I'm sorry, I know I said I'd support your career, but I need someone who can be with me on the road."
I can't take the chance you'll drop me once you get tired of dealing with my dark places.
I don’t want to get the call I know will come from another woman who tells me she’s captured your attention. I know you'll feel too badly to tell me it’s over and instead I'll hear the whispers all around me, "she doesn't know."
I don’t want to live in an alternate world of fantasy and detachment like my mother did because I’m facing too much pain from someone I once thought was amazing.
Fire Heart (Broken Bottle Series Book 2) Page 14