Crowned (Girls of Wonder Lane Book 2)

by Christina Coryell

  “Maybe I should marry you on the spot, just so you can rectify this injustice.”

  “Well, that one’s new,” she said, shaking her head. “Honestly, who sidles their kid with a name like that? It’s cruel.”

  “He must have meant well.”

  “Oh, of course. My parents always mean well. They do the right thing until it drives you into a hole in the ground.”

  “Just an observation, but you seem a little bitter.”

  Sliding her license back into her wallet, Harley looked down at Ryan’s hand over hers. She added her left hand to the pile, almost desperate to touch him.

  “Is that enough opening up? You’re probably sorry you asked.”

  “No,” he insisted, adding in his free hand so that all their fingers were enmeshed together. “When I said I want to know you, I meant that. I really don’t care how long it takes. I’ve got plenty of time.”

  “What about you?” She intently searched his eyes as she clung to his hands. “I want to know you, too. Like why tattoos?”

  “Why tattoos? That’s pretty blunt.”

  “Maybe, but you showed them to me the same night you met me, so you’re not too intent on hiding them.”

  Two glasses of water appeared on the table, but the couple barely noticed.

  “That’s a hard one to answer, because if I’m really honest, I’m sure it will freak you out.” He paused as Harley squeezed his hand, not removing her focus from him, and he gave a resigned shrug. “Maybe because there’s such a big age difference between us, or because she always just seemed so small compared to me, but I’ve always been the most overprotective big brother you could imagine. It’s hard not to be crazy about Kelsey, though, because she has such a genuine, sweet spirit. You know what I mean, obviously, since you’re already so close with her.”

  “She’s fantastic,” Harley agreed quietly.

  “But I’m not really her full brother, you know—I’m her half-brother. My mom was married before she met Sam, and even though he was only around until I was about six months old, I've always known that Jeff Temple was my dad. He moved to Arizona, but we’ve always stayed in contact.

  “Well, when we found out that Kelsey needed a transplant, naturally there’s no question…of course I’m going to be her donor, right? The tests were just a formality, until I wasn’t a match. Kelsey is blood type B, just like Sam. Mom’s blood type O. I’m blood type A. I was ranting about it on the phone to Jeff one night when he casually mentioned that he was blood type B.”

  “Meaning?”

  “If they’re O and B, then their kids have to be O or B.” He watched as recognition of what he was inferring flickered across her face. “Jeff’s not my dad, Harley. When they got married, my mom and Jeff had a pretty rocky start. They were really young, only eighteen and nineteen. Six months in, Mom had an affair. They worked through it until after I was born, but the stress took its toll on Jeff. He decided to leave, but they both chose not to let me know.”

  “Wow.”

  “That’s all you have to say? Wow?” He smiled playfully. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

  “So Jeff’s not your dad, but did I miss the part about the tattoos?”

  “No, I didn’t get that far yet. I was really upset, and I wanted to lash out. I think the thing that bothered me the most was, if I was really Jeff’s son, chances are I could have been the donor. While I was having that internal struggle, though, I would sit with Kelsey and she would say these beautiful prayers of hope. She should have been angry, too, but she wasn’t.

  “So, every time I struggled with losing my own hope, I plastered it on myself. As you know from the night I met you, I struggled a few times.”

  “Do you think you’ll get more tattoos?”

  He smiled before he answered. “Time will tell, I guess, but I don’t have plans for more at this particular juncture.”

  “Spoken like a politician.”

  “I can’t believe you’d insult me after I shared such a personal story with you.”

  Tiny chose that moment to return with their plates, and Ryan reluctantly relinquished Harley’s fingers and allowed her to pick up her fork.

  “Is that why you take it upon yourself to pay your parents’ bills?” Harley continued questioning. “Since you can’t be the donor, I mean?”

  Ryan wrapped a fettuccine noodle around his fork before lifting it into the air.

  “Not really. I just love Kelsey and want to make sure she has the best possible chance of being healed. I wouldn’t have done it for my mom, because I was pretty angry at her. In fact, I didn’t talk to her for several months. That was a while ago, though.”

  Harley stared at her plate, thinking about how she could partially understand his predicament.

  “I haven’t spoken to my parents in two years,” she said quietly.

  “I’m guessing this doesn’t have anything to do with your name, although that’s certainly worth being angry about.”

  “No, but it’s a really long story.” When he simply shoved the fork in his mouth and lifted his eyebrows, she looked at her plate with a resigned grin. “I grew up basically in the middle of nowhere, about two hours east of here. My parents live on a half-acre piece of land in a trailer with two bedrooms and a dinky bathroom. My dad fixes motorcycles, as you know, and my mom is an unpaid secretary at their church. I grew up knowing I was dirt poor and having to work hard for everything I had.”

  “You haven’t touched your food, Harley,” Tiny interrupted, suddenly hulking over them. “Everything okay?”

  “Huh? Oh, of course, just talking. I guess you’re accustomed to me inhaling my food here, aren’t you?”

  “It’s okay,” he stated with a toothy grin. “I’ll just leave you two alone then.”

  Ryan’s left hand rested on the table, and Harley thought about taking it, but knew better than to try to eat the fettuccine with her left hand. Instead, she shifted her leg a little closer and pressed it against his.

  Ryan cleared his throat as he gave her a knowing smile. “So, um, dirt poor… Please continue.”

  “Right,” she said, glancing down and taking a breath to still the erratic beating of her heart. She liked to think of herself as calm under pressure, but the slightest hint of flirtation from Ryan rendered her practically useless. “My parents had me in church every waking moment, and my mom would go on mission trips every summer and leave me with my dad. It was almost like she had a second summer family or something. You can imagine the kind of childhood I had…oversized hand-me-down clothes, totally laughable name, overzealous religious parents, no telephone in the house, and a body that resembled a walking stick.”

  Ryan laughed, and she shook her head. “I’m not kidding—I was scrawny until college. Late bloomer. Anyway, I always wanted to be a newspaper reporter, and I knew I wanted to go to college. Since my parents couldn’t afford it, I worked especially hard to earn scholarships and then I spent every night and weekend doing whatever jobs I could find to earn money. Every red cent went into a savings account for my college fund, and with my scholarships I even had some left over. Thus, the ridiculously large house I live in.”

  “I would have never figured you for the frugal type,” Ryan assessed.

  “Yes, well, surprise.”

  “And you haven’t talked to your parents because…”

  “Be patient, I’m getting there. When I was in college, I found out that I was really good at being in front of a camera, so I changed my focus. It was pretty tough for me, because I was working every night adding to the savings account while I went to classes during the day, and I never had a social life. That’s not an exaggeration…zero social life. The whole thing was exhausting.

  “I went directly from college to a job in Little Rock, so I breezed through and told my parents goodbye, and they agreed to write. A year passed and I spent the entire time working and looking for a better opportunity. When this job in Louisville came up, I was thrilled. It was closer to home a
nd a much better gig for me, so I popped in at my parents’ to tell them the good news. They were both out, so I let myself into the trailer to wait for them, and that’s when I saw it sitting on the kitchen counter.”

  “Saw it?” Ryan wondered, widening his eyes as he took a bite of his chicken.

  “Their tax return.” Focusing on the window at the front of the restaurant, Harley paused as she replayed the memory in her mind. “I had worked my tail off from the time I was fourteen, doing every kind of job imaginable. We didn’t have a phone. I never had clothes that fit, and when I saw that tax return…”

  Peeling her eyes away from the window, Harley looked directly at Ryan. “Over half of their money they sent overseas to my mom’s ‘second summer family’. They had been funding another ‘daughter’ for years, while they watched me kill myself trying to make my own way. I was crushed, and I didn’t even wait for them. Left them a note: Got a job in Louisville. I guess…” She looked at her food again, feeling self-conscious. “I guess that’s what set it off, really—the desire to prove that I could be wildly successful, in spite of them. Dressing for the job I wanted. I haven’t had time to go home since then, and I really don’t want to anyway.”

  Squinting his eyes a bit, Ryan tilted his mouth to the side. “That’s a really horrible story,” he offered, adding a slight laugh at the end.

  “How is that funny, exactly?” She sat up straighter and pulled her leg away from his, but he responded by moving over and pressing his leg to hers once again.

  “Oh, it’s not, I was just picturing you as a human walking stick.”

  She giggled along with him before they launched into more lighthearted topics, eventually moving their way from their fettuccine to a shared piece of chocolate cake. A couple hours piled on top of one another, until finally Tiny showed up at their table again.

  “Well, kids, the place has cleared out. Ryan, if you want to lock up, I won’t have to kick you out just yet.”

  “Sure, I can do that.”

  Harley watched Tiny’s retreating back as he went toward the kitchen, and then she turned to focus her eyes on Ryan. Rising from his chair, he reached for her hand and pulled her up to meet him. His right hand skimmed against her dress at her waist, settling just above her hip. She felt a physical skip of her breath as she sensed the heat of his fingers through the fabric, and she hesitantly lifted her hand to his chest as his eyes danced over hers, keeping her hostage.

  “Have you figured it out?” she asked, her voice sounding shallow and fragile in her own ears. “What this is, I mean?”

  His left hand found the other side of her waist and wrapped around to the small of her back, moving her forward until she was solidly against him. Her eyes slowly drifted from his eyes across the sweep of his eyelashes, past the contours of his cheek, resting on the corner of his mouth. Her fingers reached up to settle on the hair under his lip, and he visibly swallowed.

  “You did that last week, and you were lucky Duke was there to save you,” he whispered.

  “Save me?” She pulled her eyes back up to his. “What if I don’t want to be saved?” Tilting her face toward him, she lightly brushed her lips against his before pulling back slightly. His arms tightened around her as he brought his mouth down to meet hers, giving in to a slow, all-consuming kiss that more than melted anything standing between them. She was unsure whether she was leaning towards him or he was pulling her closer as she memorized the feel of his mouth against hers, fingers locking around the long dark hair at the back of his neck.

  Reluctantly he drew his lips away, taking in a shuddering breath as she moved closer, claiming his mouth again as she pushed her fingers farther into his hair. His hand drifted up her back, tugging at her as he stepped backwards, bumping awkwardly into a table. Undeterred, he lowered himself to lean against it as she moved with him, kissing him hungrily. Bringing his hand up to the back of his head, he wrapped his fingers around hers, dragging her hand down against his chest. A soft moan escaped her throat, and he struggled to push her back. As their lips parted, he glanced at her mouth, and she wondered how she had waited so long to kiss him.

  “Ryan.” She sounded hoarse and breathless, but she didn’t care. “I’m in love with you. Do you feel what’s happening between us? Is it only me?”

  Pausing, he brushed a hair away from her face as he assessed her searching eyes. “I think I’m pretty solid on what this is.”

  “And?” Hesitance framed her features, and he let a slight smile appear on his face.

  “I’m in love with you. All in. Over my head.”

  Climbing out of the BMW, Ryan threw the keys to Harley, who caught them midair and gave him a knowing smile. Hands in his pockets, he sauntered over to where she was standing, rocking on his heels as he waited in front of her.

  With a laugh, she turned toward her house and began walking towards the porch, carefully maneuvering the steps. When she reached the top, she fumbled with the keys a bit, staring at the man who followed her to that spot.

  “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked, taking her hand.

  “I don’t know. You tell me.”

  “Christmas shopping? I haven’t gone yet, and I took the whole weekend off.”

  “The whole weekend?” Squeezing his fingers a little tighter, she offered a mischievous grin. “Merry Christmas to me.”

  “I’ll have the bike because my mom will need her car—”

  “So I’ll just swing by the house and we can take my car.” Stepping closer to him, she drew the tip of her house key across his abdomen playfully. “Unless you have objections.”

  “No, ma’am.” Grabbing her keys, he pulled his hand back slowly so hers would follow, until she was pressed against him. “See what I did there?”

  “You’re very clever,” she whispered.

  “Thank you for a perfect night,” he told her as he rested his lips near her mouth, his warm breath fanning her cheek.

  “Thank you for being a stalker,” she teased. “And for the delicious kisses.”

  He didn’t answer as he tilted her face up and ran his finger down the center of her chin. When she laughed, he responded by silencing her with an unhurried, lingering kiss. She felt the effects of his action in the pit of her stomach, and she answered by wrapping her arms around his neck.

  “Merry Christmas to me,” he mumbled, pulling away and pressing his lips against her forehead. “I should go now, before I get myself into loads of trouble. I’ll see you tomorrow, Harley Davidson.”

  “Hey, that was mean.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s our little secret.” He let a smile cross his face, and Harley waited for his teasing remarks. “Anyway, you know how I feel about motorcycles.”

  C hapter Nineteen

  Harley squinted her eyes against the sunny day as she closed the door to the BMW, staring at the unassuming little house. A smile tugged at her lips as she placed her keys in the pocket of her boyfriend jeans, strolling toward the front door. With only minimal makeup and her hair pulled into a ponytail, she felt really free for the first time in ages. Breathing the cool, crisp air into her lungs, she rapped her knuckles on the door.

  Ryan answered, wearing a white T-shirt and distressed jeans and once again smelling fabulous.

  “Harley Laine from Channel Six Action News,” she began, holding her fist in front of her mouth like a microphone. “Would you mind answering a few questions?”

  “Are there cameras?” he asked playfully, peering over her shoulder.

  “No cameras. Off the record.”

  “In that case…” Trailing off, he pulled her forward and placed his arms around her, but she wiggled away and closed the door behind her.

  “Stop, please. I’m a consummate professional, and this is a serious interview.”

  “A serious interview?” Ryan raised one eyebrow as he backed himself to the middle of the room. “My apologies, then. Please continue.”

  “Mr. Temple, do you make it a practice of professing your
love to vulnerable young women?”

  Fighting a laugh behind his hand, Ryan cleared his throat.

  “I would have to say…no.”

  “So is it safe to assume, when you do make such a profession, that it isn’t made in jest?”

  “I would never do that.”

  “Yet you were overheard expressing this emotion last night in the company of...someone I know.”

  “She said it to me first.”

  “I’m sure she was overcome by the heady scent of your cologne. It can render a person quite defenseless, frankly.”

  “I’ve got to say, Denton’s flirting usually annoys me, but I’m starting to feel for the poor guy. How exactly is he supposed to resist you?”

  “Commenting about Denton’s flirtatious nature is an obvious attempt to change the subject to avoid your own admission of guilt. And he doesn’t resist me, as I’ve told you before. He asks me out constantly, and I tell him no. My heart is otherwise occupied, thank you very much.”

  “Otherwise occupied?” he wondered, reaching for her again. This time she didn’t protest, but allowed him to pull her closer.

  “Uh-huh. Doing an intensive case study on one particular subject.”

  “Ryan, are you heading out?” they heard Regina yell from down the hall. Harley backed away guiltily and gave Ryan a slight smile. “I was going to use the car…” She emerged a few seconds later, pausing when she saw their houseguest. “I didn’t know you were stopping by, sweetie. Kelsey’s still sleeping.”

  “As if I could sleep with you yelling,” Kelsey muttered, stepping up behind Regina, T-shirt half tucked into her pajama pants and her hair sticking up on one side of her head. “What’s going on? Darn it, Ryan, why didn’t you say we had company?”

  “Harley doesn’t care that you have bedhead,” he stated with a laugh.

  “Are you going to be here for a while?” Kelsey wanted to know, attempting to smooth down her errant locks. “Maybe we could watch a Christmas movie or something.”