The New Guy

by Kathryn Freeman

  Sam dropped her gaze. ‘Maybe.’

  Becky clapped her hands. ‘I bloody knew it. Why the big secret?’

  ‘You know why.’ Sam took in a deep, shaky breath. ‘I didn’t want a repeat of Damien. Everyone being privy to my humiliation.’ She still didn’t, still felt too raw, but she also felt ashamed. Ryan deserved a lot more from her than a clandestine affair.

  Becky’s gaze softened. ‘I guess I can understand.’ She reached for Sam’s hands, clasping them gently. ‘Is it serious?’

  ‘It is on my side.’

  Lucas let out a soft exhale. ‘Not only on your side.’

  Sam flashed him a look. ‘He told you about us?’

  ‘No, of course not. But I have eyes.’ Lucas took a swig of his rainbow-coloured cocktail. ‘You want to know how a man feels, don’t listen to what he says. Watch what he does. Ryan was seriously cut up when Damien came in. And it wasn’t just his ego that was hurting.’

  Sam mulled over Lucas’s words. If she went by actions, Ryan had demonstrated how he felt, many times over. The way he’d tried to protect her, the fits of jealousy, the support he’d given when she’d needed it. The faith he’d shown in her.

  Yet what had her actions shown him? She’d been there for him when his mum was taken to hospital, true, but what about her insistence on keeping their relationship secret? What impression had that given?

  ‘I once told him not to hurt you,’ Lucas continued. ‘I said if he did, I’ll throttle him with my bare hands.’ At her gentle tutting, Lucas gave her a sheepish smile. ‘I can be macho when I want to be. The thing is though’ – he paused, clearly considering his words – ‘I think the power base has shifted. You have the ability to hurt him.’

  ‘I have no intention of hurting him. I—’ She clamped her mouth shut, but it was too late.

  ‘You love him.’ Becky finished for her. ‘It’s not a shock to hear you say that. Damien left you so bruised it had to take something special for you to risk dating again.’ She winked. ‘Even if it was in secret.’

  Sam groaned. ‘I feel terrible about that now. Not just for lying to you guys but for treating Ryan like he was something I was ashamed of. I was trying to protect myself.’

  Becky nudged her gently in the ribs. ‘We know. And I’m sure Ryan does, too.’

  In the beginning, she’d thought he understood. But now she wondered if her selfish need for privacy had damaged the chance of anything more serious between them. He wanted her, he’d said, but that wasn’t the same as loving her, was it?

  She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath before looking at her friends. ‘Please, I don’t want to talk about this any more. How about we talk about Damien’ – she paused, enjoying the look of anticipation on their faces – ‘and what he said to me last night?’

  Becky’s eyes were like saucers. ‘Oh my God, he came round?’

  Sam smirked. ‘Not only that, he offered to work for me.’

  Two hours later, she found herself in the back of a cab with Ryan. A rather drunk Ryan.

  ‘I can make my own way back,’ he slurred, his head rolling from side to side as the cab weaved its way through the backstreets. ‘I’m not totally rat-arsed.’ He hiccupped. ‘That’s the right term for pissed, yeah? ’Cos it’s not clear where the rat’s arse comes into it.’

  God, why did her heart turn to mush when she looked at him? Drunk men were usually loud, boorish and annoying, yet it seemed Ryan turned into a pussycat. A cute, sexy, pussycat.

  ‘I know you can manage, but we’re sharing a cab. What’s your address?’ She asked again.

  ‘Shithole.’ He started to laugh. ‘I told you, Champagne Lady. I live in a shithole.’

  Hearing him call her that brought back a raft of delicious memories. ‘What’s the address of this shithole?’ She pressed. ‘The cab driver needs to know.’

  Sam relayed Ryan’s answer to the cabbie. If it wasn’t right, they could always go back to hers. Yet she was curious to see where Ryan lived, and yes, she was taking advantage of his drunk state, knowing full well if he was sober, he’d never agree to it.

  The cabbie pulled up outside what looked to be a secondhand electrical shop, though God knows why anyone would want to buy anything from the place. Rundown was putting it politely. She nudged Ryan, who had his eyes closed. ‘Is this where you live?’

  Ryan peered out of the window. ‘Ah, home sweet home.’

  After hauling him out of the cab, she put an arm around his waist and helped him round the corner to the side entrance. He fumbled about with the key, sniggering when he failed to get it into the lock. ‘I’m usually good at, you know, sliding things into holes.’ He leant against the wall, chest heaving as he laughed at his own joke.

  ‘I know you are, Casanova.’ Taking the key off him, she opened the door and carefully helped him up the stairs.

  ‘Honey, I’m home.’ Ryan sniggered again. ‘I say that to the rats. Makes them scarper.’

  As Sam walked warily into the small living area, taking in the stained carpet, the unshaded light bulbs, the chipped formica of the small kitchenette, she couldn’t be certain he was joking about the rats.

  It was tidy though. A throw spread over the sofa, a stack of magazines neatly piled on the coffee table. This morning’s washing-up drying by the sink.

  ‘Bedroom?’

  He gave her a sloppy smile. ‘Thought you’d never ask.’ Lurching upright, he started to walk towards the door to the left of the kitchen. Then he swayed, gripping the beige formica worktop. ‘Bloody floor. It’s moving.’

  Wrenching the door open, he staggered into the bedroom and face-planted onto the bed.

  Smiling to herself, Sam followed him in. Carefully she tugged off his shoes, peeled off his jacket. Removed his belt.

  He stirred then, giving her a drunken smile. ‘I may have lied about the not being totally rat-arsed bit.’

  ‘You think?’

  He frowned. ‘Hey, don’t you worry. It won’t affect my perf … perfo …’ He trailed off and she thought that was it, he’d gone to sleep. But then he blinked open an eye. ‘I can still get it up.’

  Laughter shot out of her and she bent to kiss the frown from his face. ‘I’m sure you can.’

  After a quick trip to the bathroom to wash off her makeup, she stripped to her underwear, yanked at the duvet and slid into bed next to him. He shifted, pulling her back against his chest, sliding his hand over her stomach and under her bra until he found her breast. ‘Hmm, you feel good.’

  Seconds later, all she heard was the faint sound of his snoring.

  Chapter 36

  His head was pounding, a thousand jackhammers going off inside. Oh, and did he mention his mouth was as dry as the flaming Sahara?

  Blearily Ryan struggled to sit up. Then froze when he realised he wasn’t alone. Not that he was ever going to complain about finding Sunshine Sam in bed with him, but not this bed. Soft pale skin, silky red hair, she was made for expensive bed linen, for bright modern furnishings, elegant surroundings. No way on God’s earth should she be in his grotty flat, in this crappy bed.

  His stomach heaved and he lurched to his feet, staggering to the bathroom. After splashing cold water on his face, he gripped the sink, squeezing his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to see the mould on the tiles, the tatty plastic shower curtain.

  When he thought his stomach had settled, he fumbled in the medicine cabinet for a couple of painkillers and washed them down with a handful of water. Then he stood under the dribble that was his shower, and prayed he’d feel better afterwards.

  He didn’t.

  He walked slowly back to the bedroom, towel wrapped around his waist, and stood in the doorway, staring down at the woman in his bed and feeling unbalanced. Between Erin’s sharp tongue and his mum’s blabbering mouth, Sam had seen sides of him he’d rather have kept hidden. His flat was another of those sides. Knowing he lived in a shithole and actually seeing him in it felt different. Just like he hadn’t wanted her t
o picture him as a weak kid being bullied, he hadn’t wanted her to picture him living here.

  Maybe his ego was more fragile than he thought.

  ‘Ryan?’ Sam propped herself up against the hardwood headboard. ‘How are you feeling?’

  He exhaled roughly, leaning back against the doorframe. ‘Crap.’

  She smiled. ‘I have to say, you look like crap, too.’ She waved her hand in his direction. ‘All those sexy muscles aside.’

  ‘Thanks.’ His gaze skimmed over her messy hair, her makeup-free face. ‘You look beautiful.’

  Her big eyes widened further and a slight flush stained her cheeks. ‘Hangover must be affecting your eyesight. I look like a woman who drank too much last night.’ She gave him a sly smile. ‘Though I think you beat me on that one.’

  He stepped inside and sat on the end of the bed, every part of him, his mind, his heart, aching. ‘What are you doing here, Sam?’

  She frowned, shifting higher. ‘What do you mean? I came back with you last night.’ Her eyes clouded and she wrapped her arms around her knees in a gesture that looked horribly defensive. ‘Do you want me to go?’

  ‘No, God, no. That’s not what I meant at all.’ His alcohol-addled brain tried to pick through his messy thoughts. ‘Why did you follow me in? Why not just dump my drunken ass on the doorstep like most intelligent women would do?’ He glanced round the drab bedroom with its white MDF drawers and peeling floral wallpaper. ‘Why stay here?’

  Her posture relaxed, her face softening. ‘Because you’re here. And because you promised me drunken sex. I think your exact words, before you passed out, were that you could still get it up.’

  He winced. ‘Looks like I’m a smooth talker drunk and sober.’ He started to shake his head, then hissed as his brain collided with his skull. ‘What on earth do you see in me?’ And damn, he hadn’t meant that to slip out. Clearly having a hangover loosened his tongue.

  Her gaze skimmed over his face, seeming to caress wherever it fell. ‘It turns out I have a real soft spot for blunt men with magnetic dark eyes who take care of their family and love their mum.’

  He wanted to accept the compliment, the reasoning, but it wasn’t the whole picture. ‘The unsocial git who started to work with you four and a bit months ago. The one you said was unlikeable, who everyone found difficult to work with because he said what he thought even when it upset people. It’s still me.’

  ‘I know. Just as I know it’s not all you.’ Her eyes sought his, a frown appearing between them. ‘What’s brought this on?’

  I can’t work out why a gorgeous, smart, bubbly woman like you is with an antisocial git like me. Words he couldn’t say, because they made him sound like an insecure prick and he didn’t want to be that man. He wasn’t so old-fashioned, or so unsure of himself, that he couldn’t handle being with a woman smarter and richer than he was. Yet Sam wasn’t really with him, was she? Not while they were still tiptoeing around in secret. ‘Forget it. Just the alcohol withdrawal making me melancholic.’

  She leant forward, resting her hand against his cheek, and everything inside his chest tightened. ‘Have you ever been in a relationship before?’

  He swallowed. ‘I dated a woman a few years ago.’

  ‘How long for?’

  He looked past her, eyes zeroing in on the patch of damp on the wall behind her. ‘A few months.’

  ‘Define a few.’

  ‘Three,’ he muttered, leaping to his feet, feeling both embarrassed and … inept, inadequate. Hell, while he was on a roll with words beginning with in-, add inferior, too. ‘I guess I’m not what you’d call relationship material.’

  ‘Is that because you don’t want one?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘What then? Talk to me, Ryan. Please.’

  Fool that he was, he glanced over at her, and his heart crumpled at the hurt expression on her face. He was ballsing this conversation up big time, but what did she expect from an emotionally retarded guy with a hangover? Sighing, he moved up the bed to sit next to her. ‘Look, I don’t have your way with people. I’ve spent too much of my life being on my own.’ And now he was terrified he didn’t have what it took to gain the respect, the love, of a woman like her. Groaning, he flopped backwards on the bed with a thud. ‘I’m too hungover for all this crap.’

  A heartbeat later her smell – some sort of flower – drifted up his nose and her warm body snuggled up against his. ‘Don’t let whatever happened to you as a kid define how you see yourself now,’ she whispered.

  He stiffened, hating the reminder of that part of his life. Worse, the reminder that she knew about it.

  But then her arms wrapped around him and she pressed a kiss against his neck, sending a giant boulder flying into the back of his throat. And that was before he heard her softly spoken words. ‘You’re not that boy, Ryan, the weird one nobody likes. You’re the guy who does everything he can to protect those he loves. Even if it means staying in, losing his mates. Missing out on university.’ She kissed him again. ‘Getting his nose broken in a fight.’

  ‘You said it was a good nose,’ he rasped through a throat that felt too tight. If he didn’t dial down the emotion, he was going to make a total arse of himself.

  ‘It is a good nose.’ Her lips feathered it with kisses. ‘And you, Ryan Black, are a good man. Don’t you dare think differently.’

  He let her words settle, swallowing again to loosen his throat. Good was … hell, it was good. And right now, it was enough. ‘I’ll tell you something I am good at,’ he murmured a moment later, twisting so he could face her.

  She gave him that wide, beaming smile. The one that sunbeams shot out from. ‘Programming?’

  ‘It does involve pushing the right buttons.’

  He captured her laughter in a kiss.

  Sam sank back against the lumpy pillow. Ryan certainly did know the right buttons to press. And how to tug on the heartstrings. If she wasn’t already in love with him, she’d surely have fallen after his heart-breaking question, What do you see in me? He really didn’t know how special he was.

  Shifting onto her side she turned to face him, only to find him watching her. ‘What are you thinking?’

  His face split into a grin. ‘Mainly X-rated thoughts.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘You weren’t thinking about making me breakfast?’

  His grin faded a little. ‘I can do coffee. Cereal, as long as you like cornflakes.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  ‘Coffee.’

  She swung her legs out of the bed. ‘Coffee and cornflakes sounds perfect. Do you mind if I grab a shower while you make it?’

  His eyes darted away from her. ‘Any chance I can persuade you not to?’

  ‘Why would you do that?’ And then it dawned on her. ‘For God’s sake, Ryan. Does the shower work?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then why wouldn’t I use it? I’m not a spoilt princess. A few years ago I was a student, sharing a shower cubicle with five others. Your shower will do me just fine.’

  He climbed out of bed, his powerful frame distracting her for a moment as he slipped into snug-fitting boxer briefs.

  ‘You don’t belong here,’ he muttered as he tugged on a pair of well-worn jeans.

  ‘What do you mean?’ She didn’t belong with him?

  ‘Look at this place. I’m embarrassed to bring anyone here, but you?’ He exhaled sharply, chest muscles rippling as he pulled a T-shirt over his head. ‘I didn’t want you to see it.’

  ‘You think I don’t know you live like this because you send most of your salary home? I know what I pay you, Ryan.’

  He gave her a wry smile. ‘Yeah, I guess you do.’

  Frustrated with him, Sam leapt to her feet, wrapping the duvet around her. ‘I didn’t mean it to sound like that.’

  ‘What, that you pay my salary?’

  A rush of hot tears stung her eyes and Sam whirled away from him. Why was he doing this? It was like he was trying to
put a wedge between them. Trying to show her how ridiculous she was for thinking they could possibly work as a couple. ‘You know what, don’t worry about the cornflakes, or the shower. I’ll get out of your hair.’

  She ignored the loud smack behind her, presumably Ryan slapping his hand against the wall, and bent to put on her clothes. She was fiddling with the clasp on her bra when she felt the heat from his body behind her, a beat before his hands rested on hers. ‘Leave it.’ Slowly he peeled it back off her and turned her so she was facing him. ‘Sorry, I’m being a dick.’ After taking in a deep breath he rested his forehead against hers. ‘Stay. Have a shower in the minging bathroom. Eat my soggy cornflakes. Please.’

  Swallowing her angst, she nodded. Relationships weren’t easy, and the fact she was his boss just added another layer of complexity to theirs. It was something they both had to work through, if it was ever going to lead somewhere.

  ‘Do you fancy doing something this weekend?’ she asked ten minutes later as they stood in his kitchen, sipping coffee.

  He gave her another wry smile, but this time his dark eyes held a glint of amusement. ‘I can’t remember the last time I had a weekend off. The boss is a real ball-breaker.’

  ‘Funny.’ Yet also scarily true. Since Kew, the demands of the app update had meant they hadn’t had a real weekend.

  ‘What did you have in mind?’

  Was it normal to feel nervous asking the man she was supposed to be dating out on a date? ‘How about a trip to Camden Market? We could have lunch by the lock, wander by the canal. Browse the stalls. Maybe hang on and find a club playing live music.’ Heart in her mouth, she searched his face. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think it sounds like something couples would do.’

  There was that word again. She was the one who’d put the rules around their relationship, so it was up to her to make it clear where he stood. ‘Isn’t that what we are? A couple?’

  ‘I hope so. I want to be.’ He heaved out a breath, tugging a hand through his hair. ‘But last night, in the pub, I couldn’t hold your hand. I couldn’t kiss you, like I wanted to.’