by Rachael Wade
I was wrong.
Ryan strolled out of the bathroom after taking a hot shower, towel slung low on his waist. Lean. Cut. Strong. A swimmer’s body. I lifted myself off the bed and made my way to my suitcase, fidgeting with the zipper. No matter how many times I caught a glimpse of him or how familiar his body had become to me over the past few months, I still managed to lose my cool when he was half naked. I blame it on the damn tattoos.
“See something you like, Ms. Parker?” he casually draped his arms across his chest, leaning on the dresser next to me, flashing a cunning smile. Okay, not just the tattoos.
“Mr. Campbell. So confident in your ability to make me squirm.” I realized I’d been fumbling with my socks. The pairs were mismatched and heaped into a little pile in my suitcase. How did that happen? I wondered. My hands seemed to have operated independently of my mind, which was trained on the black indelible ink etched across his chiseled figure.
“Too bad it doesn’t work,” I quipped, regaining my focus and reaching for my nightgown.
“Uh huh...you just keep telling yourself that,” he squeezed my ass and retreated to the bathroom to brush his teeth. I managed to slip my shirt off and my nightgown over my head as I felt my cheeks flush. Damn him and his uncanny ability to make me feel so flustered. Gathering up some verbal ammunition, I charged towards the bathroom, then stepped in front of him ready to fire.
“Nuh-uh,” he mumbled into a washcloth, wiping his mouth. Snatching me by the wrist, he pulled me out of the bathroom and over to his suitcase. “Pick your battles, baby. We have more important things to talk about.”
Mouth ajar and steam still evident, I crossed my arms like a child and pouted. Curiosity got the best of me, though, and I eyed the suitcase as he unzipped it. He handed me a thick stack of white paper, bound at the corner.
“What’s this?”
“My New Year’s resolution.”
“Oh?” We both sat down on the edge of the bed as I flipped through the first few pages. Landing on the title page, the words “a novel by Ryan Campbell” jumped out at me. “Ry...oh my...” I curled my legs up and pulled the manuscript closer, looking over it intently. “Is this new? When did you...how did I not know? This is great news!”
“Thanks,” he scooted me closer to him, combed his fingers through my hair. “I started it when you enrolled in my class. After I read your first paper, actually. Told you it inspired me.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to read it, I’m so thrilled you’ve kept writing since...” I lifted my gaze to meet his, knowing he didn’t like talking about her. Jamie, the girl who’d broken his heart, the one who sent him into a downward spiral that led to his publishing deal’s demise. He hadn’t told me much, only that she was the trigger for giving up and losing what he loved. In truth, I didn’t want to know every detail. Then I’d have to start reeling off info about my exes. And that was landmine territory. “So, tell me! What are your plans? What do you mean this is your resolution?”
“I’m going to submit it, get back on the horse again. It’s time.”
“Ryan...” I took his face in my hands, planted a kiss on his lips. “Good for you. I think that’s awesome, and I just know it’s going to be picked up.”
“You haven’t even read it,” he chuckled, prying it from my hands.
“Well if you’ll just let me,” I pawed at it, reaching across him to snatch it from his grasp.
“Not now. Because it’s time for your New Year’s resolution,” he stuffed the manuscript back in his suitcase and pulled out a single sheet of paper, holding it close to his chest. “You have to promise me you won’t be difficult. Or scream at me. Or run away with Carter and break my heart.” His eyebrows raised and he bit his bottom lip. Damn him and that sexy lip.
“Fine. Come on, let’s see it,” I waved, waiting. “Aren’t I supposed to make my own resolution, by the way?”
“I said no being difficult,” he hugged the paper closer to his chest. “And you can’t argue with me about this because I did it before I even knew you dropped your spring classes.”
“Okay...”
He handed over the paper. “I made the arrangements with your landlord a few days ago. So you can take some time off to finish the novel, or focus on school for a while. Whatever you want.”
The single piece of white paper glared back at me, with bold, black printed ink that read ‘six months paid in full.’ “This is a lease statement.” I remained still as stone, but my heart was pounding through my chest. “You paid the remainder of my lease off,” I said more to myself than to him. This was the kindest, most generous thing anyone had ever done for me. I glanced down at my toes, contemplating whether or not my tired feet could carry me downstairs, past the street, and onto the ferry. My reflexes, mind, and racing pulse all told me to bolt. He was so serious about me. We were serious. This whole thing was turning into...something serious. My instinct brought them to a screeching halt. Accept this. You have to accept this. He wants to do this for you.
“You could afford this?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t want me to be difficult.”
“No.”
“This is for real?” my voice squeaked. He nodded gently, waiting with a cautious smile. “How is this a resolution...I don’t understand.”
“By accepting this, you’re making a resolution to take compliments. To accept gifts. To be doted upon, taken care of. Something you’re not very accustomed to, in my humble opinion.”
Now I understood.
Putting the edge of the paper to my lips, I fixed my gaze on the dresser in front of me, catching my reflection in the vanity mirror. An uncertain girl. Cautious. Hesitant. Safe and cozy in her stone tower, tucked high and far away from the dangerous world down below.
“Thank you, Ryan.”I turned to face him. “This is singlehandedly the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me and I gladly accept the gift.”
Ryan beamed, pretending to keel over, gripping his chest like he was having a heart attack.
“Yeah, go on and enjoy it while it lasts, Mr. Campbell. No one sticks to resolutions, you know. I’m accepting this now, but I’m not going down without a fight.” I nudged him playfully, folding the paper in between my fingers.
“Kate Parker, I’m at an utter loss for words,” he pulled me onto his lap, tickling me because he knew I hated it with a passion. Anything to get me smiling and riled up. My crippling laughter only encouraged him more.
“Ryan!” I squealed, wrestling with his arms before wrapping my legs around him, forcing him onto his back. Placing one knee at each of his hips, I ran my hands up and down his bare chest, feeling him pulse with desire through the towel beneath me. He exhaled when I reached his navel, a low growl rumbling through him. I barely had time to let my gaze wander up and down his body, to take in his firm, beautiful form. He grasped me by the hips and flipped me over, pinning me underneath him in a split second.
“I’ve had enough of your defiant demeanor for one day, Ms. Parker,” he brushed his hand down my side to ride my satin gown up my leg, cocking a brow when he caught sight of the jeans that I hadn’t removed before my attempted bathroom attack. “I told you I’d warm you up tonight and I intend to do it my way, whether you like it or not.” He lowered himself down my body and popped the button on my jeans with his teeth. “Now hold still and try your damndest to let me lead, will you?”
My fingers clawed the sheets when he moved to pull down the zipper next, and I shut my eyes, unable to bite my tongue. “Only if I get extra credit, Mr. Campbell.”
13. FIRE DRILL
“Merry Christmas, sleepy head,” Ryan’s voice hummed in my ear, stirring me from the deepest sleep I’d had in a long time. Our legs entangled, we held each other under the sailboat-pattern quilt, thoroughly relaxed and snug. The windows were frosted up, but thankfully there was no snow on the ground.
“Mmmm, do we have to get up?” I stretched and sprawled across him, squeezing his torso tight,
running my fingers down, down, lower...
He growled. “Yes, we do,” he snatched my hand underneath the blanket. “As much as I’d love to bury myself in you and break the shit out of this headboard, I have one more Christmas present for you,” he wiggled out of my grasp and kissed my forehead, reaching to the bedside table drawer. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and eyed the bathroom, desperately wanting to brush my teeth if there was going to be headboard-shattering sex taking place. But the sight of Ryan’s muscular back contracting as he reached for the drawer quickly averted my focus away from the bathroom. “Here we go,” he returned with a black, velvet jewelry box and sat up. The box lingered in his hand a moment. He cleared his throat. “Well, are you going to open it?”
“Of course,” I reached for it, sitting up.
“Breathe, Kate. I’m not getting down on one knee yet.”
Yet? I smiled at him and popped open the box, looking down to find a silver locket in the shape of a globe, the lines of the continents clearly engraved in fine detail. “Ryan, it’s gorgeous...”
“You like it?” his voice perked up and he leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees. Our eyes met and I froze. His boyish eagerness and bright eyes reeled me in and I found myself struck by his sudden vulnerability, in awe at his bravery to put himself out on a limb for me, even though he’d been hurt himself before. Here was the first man I’d ever genuinely loved, and I’d returned most of his gestures with nothing but armor and football field-length force fields, ready to deflect any gesture that attacked my comfort zone. I wasn’t playing fair; I needed to give a little. Maybe I could start looking at my apartment as our place, like he saw it. Baby steps.
“Like it?” I held it up, watching it spin in front of me, the morning light bouncing off the shiny silver globe. “I love it, Ry.”
His shoulders visibly relaxed and sleepy smile widened. “Well I know how you feel about the atlas...how your mom’s dreams to travel meant so much to you, and how you share the same wanderlust. So...”
“It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.” Peering down at the vintage rabbit pendant I already wore, I reached for the clasp and slipped the new globe locket onto the chain.
“The silver doesn’t exactly match the color of your other pendant...”
“I don’t care. I want to wear them together,” I grasped the globe tight between my fingers, raising my head to meet his gaze. “One will remind me of where I came from and the other of where I’m going.”
“Where are you going?” Ryan reached out and brushed my hair over my shoulder.
“Wherever the atlas takes me. I’d like to go overseas to write, see Europe for a while.”
“I couldn’t think of a better way to find inspiration. We’ll have to work on getting you there.” Playing with the end of my tendrils between his fingertips, his gaze turned warmer, smoldering. “The world is at your feet.”
A magical charge filled the quaint bedroom, sparking an irresistible, gravitational pull between the two of us. Ryan’s hands suddenly knotted my hair and he pulled me on his lap, his tongue wound with mine. Hard and hot beneath me, he hitched my nightgown up my thighs and then cradled my back and neck, gazing up at me as he positioned himself between my legs.
“That what you want?” He pressed his erection against me, lips aligned with mine.
“Hmmm. Headboard breaking it is then,” I whispered.
“Damn straight.”
The knock on the door sent me flying off his lap. Dean made his grand entrance, looking like he came straight from a Boy Scouts meeting. Ryan and I quickly covered ourselves with the quilt, but Dean was not the least bit deterred.
“My dear Kate, I have your morning report. I’ve just spoken to the naturalist downstairs and have been informed that they’ve been spotted off San Juan and we can catch the 8:10 ferry if you hustle.” He adjusted the canteen at his hip and the binoculars around his neck. “Chop, chop!” he clapped his hands together, spinning on his heel to make his dramatic exit.
“They’ve been spotted? Was he just wearing Birkenstock sandals—with socks?” Ryan inquired with equal amusement and amazement. I dropped my head in my hands, grinning and shaking my head. “He does know it’s December...cold weather...right?”
“J Pod. The whales. Oh, Ry,” I patted his shoulder, wiggling out of bed, “with Dean, it’s never a dull moment.”
For the next few hours, it was my turn to give Ryan a Christmas present. He’d grown up in the Northwest but never visited the San Juan Islands to whale watch. It was like living in Orlando and never going to Disney World; wrong. He’d seen them plenty of times before in the Sound and off Elliot Bay, but I insisted he see them in San Juan. Something about it was pure magic. And catching them this time of year when the Southern Resident pods were usually elsewhere made it even more special.
We all hopped the ferry from Orcas Island to San Juan Island and watched the whales from Lime Kiln Point. The rich, mahogany madrona trees curled from the rocky shoreline around us, wrapping us in overcast sunlight, their peeling bark exposing their exotic beauty. Dean and Crystal shared the binoculars while Carter took pictures, Ryan hugging me from behind as we admired the majestic black and white giants as they sailed through the waters before us. Every now and then one would breach and another would follow suit, faint bursts of mist breaking the surface as they ascended to breathe.
“This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” I whispered, mesmerized by the orcas charging forward in graceful unison, toward their next destination. Wanderers. Never idle for long, always foraging. What that must be like.
After warm s’mores and the exchange of a few more gifts, we packed up and left our picture perfect Christmas seaside retreat, checked out of the hotel and caught the ferry back to Anacortes before sundown. The ferry carried us back to the Anacortes dock and the peaceful weekend floated away from us, a heavenly dream slipping off into another realm where it’d be stored to feed our memories in the years to come.
***
Reality was in full swing again; Dean and Carter’s New Year’s Easy Street Records gig was a huge success, Ryan returned to classes the second week of January, and my time card was full and healthy. Even with Ryan’s generous Christmas gift, I was determined to work as many shifts as possible to put some money away. It was an opportunity to get ahead, to save for tuition to return to school full time in the fall. In the meantime, I buckled down and continued work on the novel.
Rushing to grab my jacket, Ryan ushered me out the front door. “We’re going to be late, baby, let’s get a move on,” he locked the door and tossed me a scarf. Thanks to my preoccupation with my latest music muse, we were running late to the writing conference he’d signed us up for. He managed to get us on the attendee list at the last minute, and he was adamant we get there on time.
“You know me when I listen to my music. There’s no prying me away.”
“Yes, Ms. Parker,” he kissed my cheek and walked me to the elevator, “I’ve become well aware of the way your musical hypnosis distracts you.”
Unlike the Portland conference Ryan attended in the fall, this one was conveniently located in downtown Seattle. We checked into the posh hotel, freshening up before heading down to the buzzing lobby. Dinner was a formal affair, designed to serve as a mingling session before the conference the following morning. Ryan led me across the dance floor, stunning in his tux, Édith Piaf’s “Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien” crooning in the background. He definitely looked the part of a professor tonight.
“Mr. Campbell, I wonder what your sophisticated colleagues would have to say about your Poe-inspired raven tattoos under that fine dinner jacket of yours,” I shot him a sly smile and leaned in to rest my cheek to his.
“Oh, we’re all writers here, darling,” he joked in a stuffy, dignified tone, “we all have a little edge, and we’re all mad, anyway, didn’t you know?”
“As mad as the poem itself, I’m sure,” I laughed, my smile fading when I caught a glimpse of a peti
te brunette over Ryan’s shoulder, standing stoically against the wall, sipping champagne as she mingled. Her eyes were trained on mine, speaking under her breath to the woman next to her. Her eyes said trouble, body language screaming restraint. “Were you always a fan of Poe?” I reeled myself back to our conversation, pulling my gaze from hers.
“I wouldn’t say a fan, no. The tattoos were a stupid decision,” he cleared his throat, hand trailing down my bare back, pulling me closer when he reached my hip.
“Mmmm I love this dress on you, baby,” he leaned in to whisper. I refused to be distracted by his charming flattery. I wanted to know what was so stupid about my favorite tattoos.
“Really? Why’d you get them?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time. Would you like some champagne?” He stopped moving to the music, restless eyes searching the room.
“Sure, okay.” Taking his hand, I walked to the bar with him. He requested two glasses, stopping cold when the woman I’d noticed earlier approached us, requesting a drink of her own.
“Ryan,” her clip tone greeted him. She immediately sized me up from head to toe, her frigid smile telling me all I needed to know. She was another ripple in his history, clearly unnerved that he’d paid her no attention since our arrival on the dance floor.
“Felicia. Good to see you.” Ryan took our drinks from the waiter, his tone equally short.
“Is it?” she turned her eyes from him to me, holding out a stiff hand, her head held high. “I’m an old friend of Ryan’s. And you are?”
“This is Kate, my fiancée ,” Ryan answered before I could respond. I choked on my champagne but managed to quickly reign in my look of surprise. Felicia’s eyes widened and she took a step back, her short brown bob haircut bouncing with her step.
“Well, isn’t that...just fantastic,” she craned her neck forward, searching for my hand. “May I see the ring?”