“You ate your English mufÞ n with jelly, half your eggs, none of
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your bacon. The jelly and the sugar in your coffee probably spiked your blood sugar beyond belief. You should eat more protein. Hell, even more complex carbs. Less sugar.”
“Ryan, have you looked at me lately? I really don’t need to eat more.”
Ryan stopped walking. “I look at you all the time, so if you want someone to join you in trash-talking yourself, you’re going to have to look elsewhere.”
Ryan stalked away. I could tell by the rigidity in her back that she was angry, but I couldn’t Þ gure out why. “Hey!” I tried to push the bike after her, but the bike’s weight and my own clumsiness made it hard to keep up.
A little old man of indeterminate race sitting on a park bench said,
“You can ride those things, you know.”
“No kidding,” I said, but after a few more steps I decided he was probably right. Great. Now I’m getting tips on how to chase a woman from elderly men. I waited until Ryan was out of sight and I was pretty sure Old Helpful Man couldn’t see me trying to Þ gure out how to ride the bike in the Þ rst place, then I got on the bike. I pedaled slowly and my front tire wobbled from side to side. I had seen other people riding bikes, and they’d all seemed to be riding along smoothly.
I tried to remember if I had had a similar problem as a kid, but I couldn’t remember ever riding a bike or being taught how. The thought had just crossed my mind when I spotted Ryan up ahead. She had slowed her pace and her arms were folded in front of her chest, but her head was down and she wasn’t looking either left or right, which meant I had some time to smooth out my bike-riding skills.
I was so intent on following her that I was caught off guard when something gray ß ew at my tire. I pounded hard on my hand brakes and realized too late that the bike’s front wheels would lock. I was airborne longer than I thought possible and then I was staring up through long, thin Þ ngers. No, they were the branches of trees. My head hurt and my nose felt like I had water in it. Something was poking into my back and I could hear drums pounding in my right ear. A Þ gure above me moved closer.
“Oh, my God. Mia, what happened?”
“Ryan, the construction worker from work?”
“Yeah, where are you hurt?”
I squinted up at her because the sun, even in an overcast sky, kept
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me from seeing her clearly, but it created one of those glowing halo things around her head like the Þ gures painted on the colored glass at church. “Lovely,” I whispered.
“We saw her go down. Is she conscious? What happened?”
I blinked because the construction worker had just called me sweetheart, and then I remembered. She was no longer working on the next ofÞ ce and my head was pounding because I had probably slammed it into the pavement when I fell off my bike. Tears spilled out of my eyes and down the side of my face.
“Mia, baby, tell me where it hurts.” Ryan sounded as if she was ready to do battle with my pain. “Do you want me to call an ambulance?
I have my cell phone.”
“No, I’ll be okay,” I said, but the tears kept falling and I felt a few sprinkle on my forehead. Great, not only had I made an ass of myself, but I had done so in front of Ryan and a stranger.
“Maybe you should get her to the hospital. She looks like she’s in pain,” said a different, unfamiliar voice. Great. Make that two strangers.
I bet the old man’ll be rounding the bend at any moment to see what all the hoopla is about.
“What about the bird?”
“Bird?” Ryan sniffed.
“Ryan, why are you crying?”
She wiped her face. “I don’t know. Because you were, I guess.
You scared the heck out of me.”
“I just killed a baby bird,” I whispered, and to my horror more tears spilled down my cheeks.
Ryan pulled me into her lap. I knew that other people were standing around us but I really just didn’t give a damn. Ryan had been scared that I was hurt and she didn’t want me to trash-talk myself. Pounding head and back be damned. I’d never felt so good.
“Can we sit here for a few minutes more?”
“We can sit here as long as you need.”
I glanced down the path where the old man still sat on the park bench. He had no doubt seen me take a spill. If I were the blaming kind I would say that he was at fault. But if I hadn’t fallen, I wouldn’t have ended up in Ryan’s arms. I wouldn’t have seen those tears in her eyes.
She wouldn’t be looking at me with a worried expression on her face.
“You could have done some serious damage to yourself, Mia.
Birds usually get out of the way, you know.”
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GABRIELLE GOLDSBY
“Yeah, but this looked like a baby. He ß ew right into my tire.”
“We should head back. We need to get that scrape cleaned up.”
I pressed my face into her shoulder and said, “I could stay right here forever.”
Ryan either didn’t hear me or she refrained from responding. She leaned into me for a moment and then she gently moved me back. I sighed and forced myself to get off her lap. As I stood, I closed my eyes against aches that were already threatening to turn into full-blown agony.
When I opened them, Ryan was watching me intently. “Let’s take it slow, okay? If you feel dizzy we’re taking you to the hospital, and I don’t want to hear any lip.”
If I had felt better, I might have asked what lip sounded like.
“That’s Þ ne,” I said a little more weakly than was probably necessary.
“Here, lean on me if you need to.”
We passed the old man on the bench and he lifted his hand in a wave. “Split your pants, little sister?” He could have been asking me what time it was or if I was having a good day.
I frowned back at him and then twisted around so that I could see my own ass. Sure enough, there was a large rip along the seam of my track pants, exposing my yellow high-cut granny panties to the world. I recognized the feeling of my heart slamming against my rib cage as the beginnings of a panic attack.
Before I could think of anything to say, Ryan unzipped my jacket and slid it off my shoulders and down my arms. I pulled my hands out of the sleeves and her head dipped as she tied the jacket around my waist. When she was done, her Þ ngers lingered and she was slow to meet my eyes. I looked down to see what had caught her attention.
I hadn’t expected to be without my jacket, so I hadn’t made sure I would be decent if I needed to take it off. I wasn’t, and Ryan had noticed.
I was wearing an OSU T-shirt that I had had since college. It had been washed so many times it was practically transparent. My bra didn’t offer much more by way of coverage, because I could clearly see my nipples straining against the fabric and even the brown of my areolae.
When she Þ nally met my eyes, I could see the desire in hers. “We need to get home. Now.”
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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
My head, chest, and right arm felt heavy when I awakened.
Why is my chest heavy? I forced my lids open and jumped. I was looking into the deep brown eyes of a lunatic. A lunatic who had plopped himself squarely on my chest. He leaned forward, stopping inches from my face. I froze in stark horror. A small pink tongue appeared, as if tasting the air. The slow deliberate move felt like, and probably was, a threat. I had seen Pepito lick his own ass two mornings ago. He had me trapped and, based on the toothy grin on his face, he knew it.
“You’re awake,” Ryan said from somewhere to my right.
“Yeah, I thought I wasn’t supposed to sleep.”
I turned my head and winced more in anticipation than any real pain. A general ache was the only reminder of my fall. She was sitting in a chair acr
oss from me with her feet propped up on an ottoman.
Doing what? Watching me sleep? The idea of it should have made me feel uncomfortable, but it didn’t.
“I kept you up a full twelve hours and then I let you get some sleep. Don’t you remember?”
I hadn’t had the heart to tell her that I thought keeping a person awake after a head injury was an urban legend. Besides, I would rather stay up all night with her than go to the hospital any day of the week.
“I remember watching Lassie and Green Acres. Did we really watch those shows?”
“We did.” She stood up and scooped Pepito off my chest and set him on the ß oor. “Sorry about that. I gave up trying to keep him off you.”
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GABRIELLE GOLDSBY
I sat up a little so that I could see him. He was standing with his legs splayed and he was panting; his pissed stance.
“Great.” I lay back down and touched the side of my head with my Þ ngers. I had a strange metallic taste in my mouth. “My mouth tastes funny,” I said with an accusing glare toward Pepito.
“What, you afraid he’s been kissing you?” Ryan had a crooked little smile that would have been charming if she hadn’t been teasing me.
I ß ushed and lay back down. I didn’t want her to think I had been tongue-kissed by a dog, but my mouth did taste funny. She sat down on the couch next to me. I was hyperaware of her hip touching my waist. I turned my attention to Pepito. We stared at each other for a long moment.
“Oh, shit,” I whispered, and Pepito gave Ryan one of the evil snaggletooth panting grins that he usually saved for me. His tongue rolled. He wasn’t the only one falling in love with her. “Shit shit shit.”
“He’s laughing at me,” Ryan said.
“Actually, that’s his ha-ha look. I used to get it all the time. You’re a Þ ckle little bastard, aren’t you?” I reached down to pat his head and tried not to be disgusted when his tongue whipped out and caressed the inside of my wrist.
“You probably bit your tongue when you hit the ground yesterday,”
Ryan said. “Does it hurt at all?”
I stuck my tongue against my teeth. “No, maybe I just need to go brush.” Pepito, who had settled on the ß oor, seemed unable to tear his eyes from me. I tried to sit up but a pressure, this time Ryan’s hand on my chest, stopped me.
“Hang on a second. You need to take it slow. You knocked the hell out of your head.”
“I really just want to brush my teeth.” One look at Ryan’s face and I realized that I was being a brat. “I’m sorry. Thank you for looking after me last night. I’m just hungry and sore and it’s making me grouchy.”
“Want me to make you something?”
Her willingness to cook for me drained all annoyance from my body. Right up until I remembered that it was Monday and I was supposed to have brunch with my family yesterday. “Oh shit. My mother is going to make my life hell.”
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SUCH A PRETTY FACE
“What would you give me if I made it so your mother wasn’t mad at you?”
I looked at her through my lashes thinking I would give her anything she wanted for a lot less than getting me out of trouble with my mother. Something in my expression must have given me away, because she ß ushed.
“Christina called an hour after we got home yesterday. Brunch is put off until next week.”
“Yes.” I pumped my Þ st in the air, temporarily forgetting I was supposed to be convalescing.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I called Goody and told him you wouldn’t be in.”
“Hey, Ryan?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for taking care of me.”
“I like doing things for you.” She lifted Pepito back onto the couch. “I’ll go see if there’s anything in the kitchen.”
“O…kay,” I said stupidly. I felt a strange longing that made me want to call her back and keep her close. Pepito had put his head down between my breasts and blinked long, dark lashes. “This really sucks.”
Pepito blinked again, almost sagely.
I watched her leave, wondering what I was thinking by telling her she could come next week. I lay back and told myself to enjoy my one-week reprieve. But the more I tried to stop it, the more my mind insisted on dragging me through all the horriÞ c possibilities. Each scenario ended with the same conclusion: they are going to eat her alive.
v
I agreed to let Ryan drive me to work on Wednesday because she didn’t give me any choice. To my chagrin, Pepito followed us out the door and insisted on hanging his head out the window despite the early morning mist that left a chilly blanket of fog over downtown Portland.
More than one early morning commuter did a double take when they caught sight of him. Instead of being embarrassed, I felt protective even though I did realize that Pepito was a bit much for anyone to take before seven in the morning. I rolled him onto his back to give him gentle
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GABRIELLE GOLDSBY
scratches, deftly avoiding his lolling tongue. I could hardly look at Ryan because every time I did I felt complete lust and she just looked, well…concerned.
“I’ll pick you up right here after work,” Ryan said as she pulled into a Þ fteen-minute loading/unloading spot.
“I can take the bus.”
“I can also pick you up.”
“It’s a madhouse down here at four thirty.”
“Which is why I don’t want you on the bus. Promise me you won’t take the bus?” She had the most riveting gaze.
“I promise,” I said as I opened the door. I slid Pepito into my seat and got out of the car. Behind us I watched a woman I had never seen before lean in and kiss a man I assumed was her husband. Ryan was watching me again, and there was nothing maternal about the look in her eyes. She quickly hid it, but not before I saw.
I stuffed down my triumph and said in a calm voice, “I’ll see you this afternoon.”
“Call me if you need to come home early.”
“I’ll be Þ ne,” I said and gave her a smile as I shut the door. I was grateful for the work that would be waiting for me. I hoped it would take my mind off Ryan and the fact that she was still Þ ghting me with everything she had.
v
I managed to call my remaining clients as well as follow up with the ones who had already transferred their accounts over to Jackson.
As busy as I was, thoughts of Ryan were never far away. I often found myself reaching for the phone to call her, only to pull it back. What would I say? Hey, I’m just calling see how you’re doing.
I didn’t really think we had that kind of relationship, did we? I mean, she had taken care of me the last two days, and she was coming to my parents’ house. And we did live together, and we did have a couple really hot moments. By the time Goody knocked at my door I was exhausted.
“Hey, you look tired, do you need me to drop you off at home? I drove today.”
“What time is it? It’s four already? It would save Ryan the trip if you don’t mind.”
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SUCH A PRETTY FACE
“Ryan picking you up from work now?”
“I had a little bicycle accident over the weekend and she’s worried I might have a mild concussion.”
“Hmm, you two’ve grown close, haven’t you?”
I shrugged. I refrained from saying “not close enough” because I didn’t want to discuss Ryan with Goody. “She’s a nice person.”
“Yeah, I could tell that when I had lunch with her.” Goody seemed like he wanted to say more, but I wasn’t in the mood to discuss Ryan with anyone. The mere thought of her was leaving me feeling off kilter, or maybe that was the whack to my head.
“So how much longer before the work on your house is done?”
I hadn’t wanted to think about the fact that Ryan had been making speedy work of all the repairs. “I don’t know. She might stay after she’s done. She’s helping me with wo
rkouts too.”
“Brenda’s good with that?”
“Brenda and I are…”
“I know, but have you told Brenda that? I mean really told her?”
“Why is everyone so concerned about Brenda? She’s the one who left me, remember?”
Goody didn’t answer. Of course he remembered. Why was I lashing out at him?
“I’m sorry, Goody. I don’t…even though Brenda left me, I wasn’t looking for another relationship.”
“But you found it?”
“I found…something, and I’m not strong enough to ignore it.”
“You know, I keep telling myself the minute I stop looking I’ll Þ nd him,” Goody said.
I swallowed. “Trust me, it’s not all roses. I actually feel pretty confused.”
“Does Ryan know how you feel?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure she does. Things did get a little—heated in the kitchen on poker night.”
Goody laughed. “I knew we interrupted something, and it looked a damn sight hotter than just a kiss.”
“It felt a damn sight hotter too.”
Goody cackled and I attempted to join him. If he noticed I didn’t laugh quite as hard as he did, it didn’t seem to bother him.
v
• 179 •
GABRIELLE GOLDSBY
Goody pulled away from the curb, and the little ß utter I felt in my chest leapt up into my throat as the front door swung open. My excitement was replaced with fear when a man stepped out of my house and shut the door gently behind him.
“Hi,” I said as I cautiously approached. There was something about him that felt familiar, and it took me only a split second to realize that he was the same person I had seen Ryan standing on the corner talking to. Up close I could see a resemblance. Same shaped eyes, coloring, and nose. But where Ryan looked strong, her brother looked depleted, tired; maybe even slightly unclean.
“Hi, I was visiting my sister.”
“Yeah, Brady, right? I’m Mia. Ryan’s told me about you.”
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