When they pulled onto the airport tarmac, Ryan got out of the SUV to meet one of the employees. He needed to retrieve the keys to the helicopter.
As she reached for her door handle, Detective Bailey said, “Wait for the guards, please. And if we’re unable to get Spencer moved to a higher security compound, I’d like you to reconsider witness protection, Tara. He just proved he’s too dangerous to be in minimum security.”
The tears she’d been forcing back all night welled up in her eyes. That was what she’d tried to avoid thinking about. It meant disappearing for good. Possibly never seeing her family again. A last resort. “I’m hoping he gets moved so I don’t have to consider that. Thank you for everything, Detective.”
“You’re welcome. Oh, before I forget, Ryan asked about a job here. Should I put in a good word for him?”
She wanted whatever Ryan wanted. He deserved to be happy. “Yes, anything you could do would be appreciated. I’ll call you after I get a new cell tomorrow.”
“Sounds good. Looks like Ryan’s ready for you. Take care, Tara.”
“You too.” She opened her door and moved between the two men who waited for her. They flanked her as they headed for the already-running chopper. It was her ticket home no matter how dangerous the ride might be.
Hopefully Anderson Butte could remain her home.
The full moon illuminating the clear, starry night sky made for an eerily peaceful chopper ride home. That and Ryan had grown unusually quiet. When he glanced at her with that worried look in his eyes for the twenty-fifth time, she couldn’t take it anymore. “I promise I’m fine now, Ryan. I’m not going to fall apart on you.”
“I wasn’t worried about that.” He shrugged. “Much.”
“We need to lighten things up in here. I’ll start.” She pasted on a big smile. “What did the cat say after eating two robins lying in the sun?”
“Assuming cats could talk?” He cocked a brow.
“Yes, Mr. Literal.”
He stared deeply into her eyes, as if searching to see just how scared she really was under her false bravado. “Yum?”
“No. I just love Baskin-Robbins.”
When that slow, cute smile of his returned, what remained of her anxiety melted away. “Okay, now your turn. I’m dying to hear your all-time favorite joke.”
His forehead furrowed. “I have to get ready to land in a second. And the only ones I can ever remember are stupid knock-knock jokes from when I was a kid.”
“Perfect, those are short. Shoot.”
“Okay. You asked for it. Knock, knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“Gimme.”
“Gimme who?”
“Gimme a kiss, Tara.”
She grunted. “Only a good-looking guy like you could get away with that line—in high school.” Framing his face with her hands, she laid her mouth on his, tempted to linger, but she needed to make it quick if she wanted to land in one piece.
His lips tilted into a smug smile. “Still works, apparently.”
Ryan got busy adjusting controls as they made their approach. It was just after three a.m. when Anderson Butte appeared below them.
After Ryan set the helicopter down behind the clinic, she hung up her headphones and sighed. “I just realized I can’t get into my house. I don’t have my keys.”
“I’ll get the spare key from my dad in the morning. You can bunk with me tonight.”
“How will you get into your house? You don’t have keys either.” She opened the chopper door and stepped out. Her high heels were killing her feet, so she bent down and slipped them off. It wasn’t far to Ryan’s house.
He appeared by her side and slung an arm over her shoulder. “The old key-under-the-flower-pot-on-the-front-porch trick.”
“But of course. What was I thinking?”
“You were thinking about walking home barefoot, but we can’t have that.”
Ryan surprised her when he swept her off her feet and lifted her against his chest. With her shoes dangling from her fingertips, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Snuggling closer she said, “My hero. Even if you tell really lame knock-knock jokes.”
Ryan set off toward his house. “I’m not that heroic. For letting you spend the night, I expect payment in return.”
Tara leaned back and cocked a brow. “Payment?”
“I want your homemade biscuits for breakfast. I’ll make the gravy.”
“So you give a woman a cooking lesson and she’s supposed to be your biscuit slave for life?”
“Of course not. But after I teach her how to make gravy too . . . then maybe.” He laid a quick kiss on her lips. “And only if the biscuit maker is you.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but her heart was so busy being confused, nothing but air passed her lips. Before her brain could pull it together and come up with a good retort, Ryan stepped onto his front porch, dropped her to her feet, then retrieved the key.
Once inside, he locked the door behind them. Something she’d never seen him do. He must be more worried than he let on.
Without turning on any lights, he took her hand and they climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He opened a dresser drawer and pulled out a T-shirt. “Will this be okay?”
“Fine. Thanks.”
“Do you want to sleep in the guest room?” He took off his suit coat and tossed it onto a chair, then removed his gun and laid it on a nightstand.
“I’d rather sleep with you. If that’s okay?” After the day she’d had, the only bed that appealed was one with Ryan in it.
“That’s the answer I’d hoped for. You can go first.” He pointed to the bathroom before he sunk onto the bed to untie his shoes. “I’ll go send your dad an e-mail. Be right back.”
After washing her face she dug through drawers until she found Ryan’s toothpaste, then finger brushed her teeth. The dentist in her cringed at that, but it was just going to have to do. All she wanted was her head on a pillow.
She crossed his darkened bedroom to the king-sized bed.
He probably slept on the same side where he’d laid his gun. It was her preferred side too, but she was so tired it didn’t matter. She slid under the cool sheets on the opposite side and closed her eyes. As tired as she was, her mind still raced with unwanted thoughts about what had happened earlier.
Ryan got ready for bed and then slipped under the sheets beside her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, then nibbled on her ear. “Can’t wait for those biscuits in the morning.”
She turned in his arms and answered his smirk with one of her own. “I never agreed to those terms, pal.”
“In that case, I’d be willing to take payment in something along the lines of this.”
When he kissed her slow, sweet, and deep, her toes curled. “Mmmm. Morning sex or homemade biscuits. Tough choice.” She snuggled closer and closed her eyes, exhausted but finally feeling safe. “Goodnight, Ryan.”
“Night.” A few seconds passed before he whispered, “For the record, I vote for both.”
She chuckled as she drifted off to sleep looking forward to hot sex and homemade biscuits in the morning.
With the steady patter of rain falling on the metal roof, Ryan blinked his eyes open way too early. A glance at his watch confirmed it. Eight o’clock. Tara lay sprawled on top of him, using his chest as a pillow.
His hand rested on her lower back, under her T-shirt. He slowly caressed her warm skin, hating the way his thumb bumped over the raised scars Spencer had put there.
With her eyes still closed, Tara snuggled closer.
He’d like nothing better than to go back to sleep along with her, but dark thoughts about Spencer and what he’d done to Tara made him slowly slip out of her embrace. He pulled on some sweats, then headed downstairs to start the coffee. While the machine gurgled, he fired
up his iPad to catch up on e-mail until Tara woke up. He also sent an e-mail to Bailey asking to be kept in the loop.
After he finished reading his e-mail, he pulled out the ingredients for biscuits and blended them together. Serving Tara biscuits and gravy in bed sounded like the perfect start to a rainy day.
Just as the timer dinged, signaling the biscuits were done, his front door handle wiggled back and forth. He laid the hot pan on the granite countertop and headed for the door.
Then a loud knock sounded. “Ryan?”
It was Meg.
He unlocked the door and pulled it open. Both his sisters stood on his front porch. “Hey. What’s up?”
Meg’s brow furrowed as she pushed her wet hood back. “Why was your door locked? And why haven’t you been answering your cell?”
“What’s the matter?”
“Dad saw the chopper was back, so he asked me and Casey to find out how your job interview went. And to convince you to stay.”
Casey lifted her chin and sniffed. “You’re making biscuits? As in your famous biscuits and gravy? Awesome!” She and Meg pushed past him, hung up their dripping coats on the rack by the door, and then headed for the kitchen.
“I’m sort of busy right now,” he said to their backs.
Meg asked, “Doing what?” as she pulled out a stool at the kitchen counter and settled in. Casey sat down too.
As he struggled with what to say, Tara appeared on the steps wearing his robe. “Ryan, I was going to make the bis—” She pulled up short. “Oh, hey, you guys.” Tara glanced over her shoulder as if looking for an escape hatch.
His sisters exchanged satisfied smirks before they said in unison, “Good morning, Tara.”
Ryan crossed to the kitchen and pulled out four plates from the cupboard. Biscuits and gravy would just have to do—morning sex wasn’t happening.
Tara wanted to crawl under the nearest rock. Instead she threw her shoulders back and prepared to face Ryan’s sisters. She felt sixteen again, just caught kissing her first boyfriend goodnight by her father.
Meg said, “Nice robe, Tara. Looks just like the one I gave Ryan for Christmas last year.”
Casey snorted her coffee.
Ryan sent his sisters a dark look. “Knock it off.”
That just made his sisters’ smirks grow wider.
Tara pulled out a barstool and sat beside Meg, knowing just what to do to put a stop to things. She turned to the girls and lowered her voice. “How come no one told me how awesome your brother is in—”
“Stop!” Meg and Casey said in unison.
Casey cringed. “God, that almost made me lose my appetite. We get you guys slept together. Next subject, please.”
Tara caught Ryan’s gaze and sent him a grin. When he smiled back at her something shifted in her chest again. If she hadn’t already decided to stay detached, she might have mistaken the little hitch her heart just took as . . . no. She wasn’t going there ever again. She and Ryan both knew that.
While Ryan handed out the breakfast, Meg asked, “So how did the wedding go? Besides all the romance in the air finally making you guys realize how much you couldn’t keep your hands off each other?”
“The wedding went fine.” Ryan snatched Meg’s plate from in front of her. “You want this back?”
Meg nodded.
“Then cut out all the comments and eat.” He shot Casey a look as he handed Meg’s plate back. “That goes for you too.”
Meg frowned as she dug into her breakfast. “Spoilsport.”
When Ryan settled next to Tara at the counter, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. “See? You are my hero.”
That sent up gagging noises from Ryan’s sisters.
He shook his head and dug into his meal. “To be an only child . . .”
“Tara, you realize we’re teasing Ryan. Not you, right?” Casey laid her fork down and smiled. “You’re the only woman he’s ever spent the whole night with. He says he hates the awkward morning-after chitchat.”
Tara glanced Ryan’s way. She was his first? He hadn’t even hesitated when she’d asked to stay. And he’d held her all night long. Despite her best efforts, her heart went completely gooey. “Really, Ryan?”
“Yep.” He took his half-full plate to the sink. “But it’s totally not awkward having my sister point that out. I’ll go get that key, Tara.”
“Thanks.” She smiled as she watched him go upstairs to get dressed. When he was out of earshot she said, “You guys are bad.”
Casey’s smile slowly dimmed. “He just pretends to be annoyed when we tease. Honestly, we’re hoping he changes his mind about Denver. He belongs with his family here, Tara.”
She wanted to belong here too. Hopefully Spencer would be moved to a more secure location so she could stay.
After the girls left and she’d done the dishes, Ryan returned with the key to her house. Time to go get dressed and then take her walk of shame the short distance home. Maybe everyone would be in church so she wouldn’t have to explain to anyone why she was still wearing her dress from the wedding at nine in the morning.
“I’m going to change and then pick up Sherlock. After that, I’ll go get us new phones. I still need to think of something to tell Fred, though. He’ll wonder why we both need new phones. Do you think I should change my number again?”
“Definitely.” Ryan slipped his hands around her waist. “But I’ll handle the phones. Then how about I teach you how to make chicken enchiladas for dinner tonight?”
She loved Mexican food. “Both sound awesome.” He was awesome. But she still owed him an explanation about Spencer before she left. Ryan had been more than patient with her about that. Might as well get it over with. “Before I go, do you want to talk about the elephant in the room?”
“What? That I still owe you morning sex because my sisters ruined breakfast in bed this morning?”
“Really? You were going to bring me breakfast in bed?” Her traitorous eyes got misty.
“Yes.” He drew her into a hug. “But you’re talking about Spencer, right?”
“Yeah. Let’s go sit down.”
She took his hand and led him to the couch. After she tucked her legs underneath her, she turned and faced him. “Where do I even begin when it comes to Spencer?”
Ryan struggled for a light tone. It had to be hard for her to relive the pain. “How’d you meet? Was he a patient?”
“No. Spencer and I met at one of my father’s company gatherings. We hit it off instantly. He was handsome, witty, a genius, and in charge of IT security for my dad’s main holding company. Spencer came from a well-known, wealthy family in Denver. Our fathers often played golf together. My mother considered Spencer ‘a most acceptable match’ for me.”
He’d wondered how a smart woman like Tara could have been so deceived by Spencer. “So everyone trusted him?”
“Yes. Exactly. Spencer was the perfect gentleman. Attentive, always by my side at parties, sweeping me off for fun weekend getaways, showering me with beautiful jewelry, the whole bit.”
He took her hand and wove his fingers with hers. “So you probably didn’t have to remind him to check in with you in the middle of the week, huh?”
“Just the opposite.” She shook her head. “He checked in many times a day, always wanted to know what I was doing. If I was seeing patients when he called, he’d ask the receptionist to tell me that he was thinking of me. He asked me to marry him just a few months after we met, and I quickly agreed. I’d never been with anyone who treated me so well, seemed so devoted . . . so perfect. He and I could discuss any topic, we had similar backgrounds, and we generally liked all the same things. We never even had a fight before we got married. But I didn’t realize until much later what motivated his devotion and complete attention.”
Tara’s whole body had tensed, so he ran his thumb over th
e back of her hand to soothe her. “So, his attentiveness was more like an obsession?”
She nodded. “Remember how I told you I remained friends with most of the guys I’d dated? After we married, if we ran into one of my former boyfriends at a party and I talked to him, Spencer would fly into a jealous rage on the way home. I had to assure him for hours after that he was the only man I wanted to be with. It should’ve been my first clue that something wasn’t right with him, but I didn’t see it. I wish I’d never agreed to get pregnant so quickly. I should have gotten to know him better, but I was so eager to have a baby.”
The tears in her eyes as she stood to pace stabbed at his heart. She’d clearly wanted children. He wanted to pound the bastard to a pulp. “Spencer fooled a lot of people, Tara. You can’t blame yourself for that. What happened next?”
She looked away, toward the lake.
He wasn’t sure she’d finish the story until she said in a voice so soft he had to strain to hear, “One day, when I was about ten weeks pregnant and battling morning sickness so badly it was hard to get out of the house each morning to go to work, I realized I’d forgotten my cell. I’d just pulled out of my driveway, so I turned around and went back inside the house. When I walked into the bedroom I noticed Spencer in the bathroom, shaving. The music was turned up weirdly high and he was singing along at the top of his lungs, something I’d never seen him do. He didn’t hear me walk up behind him before I saw three brown prescription bottles lined up on the countertop in front of him. When I tapped his shoulder to get his attention and ask what the pills were for, he flew into another of his rages and said I was being a nosy bitch and can’t a guy take a few painkillers after a tough tennis match?”
She finally glanced Ryan’s way again, then drew a deep breath. “From what I saw on two of the bottles before he scooped them up and put them in his robe pocket, they weren’t painkillers. After I Googled them, I realized he was on meds that could be used for treating mental illness. Delusions and schizophrenia.”
It Had to Be Love (An It Had to Be Novel) Page 17