Even though it meant that he wouldn't be able to see Ryan until tonight. But that was okay, they had the whole next day planned to hang out together. He could wait.
He slowed the car down as he approached the opening of the driveway. Taking a careful left, he noticed Miles sit a little straighter and look through the front window as the gravel took over for the pavement. He couldn't blame him. He was getting excited too. This drive never got old.
The road was tree lined, the trees going high and then arching over the road in a beautiful canopy. They came around a bend and the trees opened up to reveal a picturesque ranch style home, a stable in the distance, and wide green pastures surrounding. Further off the main drive, Sway could picture the rows of apple trees even though he couldn’t see them from there.
He parked the Lexus in front of the house, smiling at Gran, who was hurrying down the steps and into the driveway.
She was going to be 85 in a couple of weeks. She didn't look a day over 60.
Silver white hair, styled in huge glamorous curls, á la Sophia Loren. Her skin was aged, but not ancient. She still glowed from head to toe.
Then she had her arms wrapped around him and Sway took a deep breath of his Gran's scent. Paris. She'd always worn it and it would always smell like her.
Over Gran's shoulder he saw Pops come out onto the porch and lift one snowy eyebrow.
“Whoa,” Miles said as he closed the car door and stared at the older man.
Sway knew what he was thinking. My grandfather is James Bond.
Pops was the spitting image of Sean Connery. Too bad he didn't have the accent. That would have been a trip.
While Gran was almost 85, Pops was only 73. Their marriage had been quite the scandal back in the day, from what Gran had shared with Sway. They'd been 12 years apart with Gran being 33 and Pops was practically a baby at 21. They only knew each other for a week before they got married. Because Pops said a week was all you needed to know if you could be the kind of man who would do anything to keep the woman of your dreams happy for the rest of your life. Gran said it only took her a week because she wanted babies and she was 33. So no one had time to piss around.
Whatever their reasons, Sway had never seen them as anything but happy. So it must have worked for them. And Pops seemed to take good care of Gran. She never managed to age.
“Look at this boy,” Gran said, taking Miles' face in both of her hands and giving him a careful examination. “You look just like your dad did at this age.” She winked which caused Miles to laugh, then she folded him into a hug.
Sway had to swallow really hard all of a sudden.
“Let's get you two inside and fed. You look half starved to death.” She released Miles and turned back toward the house. Miles followed her, with Sway bringing up the rear. He stopped in front of the man of the house.
“Pops,” he said with a chin lift.
Pops gave him a lopsided smile through his Hemingway beard. “Good to see you, grandson.” He clasped Sway's hand and pulled him in tight for a hug and hard smack on the back.
The smell of hay and horses drifted across the air and Sway felt his explorer soul take anchor in the family harbor. No matter how far he traveled or what kind of music he chose to play, he could always come back here and they'd treat him just the same. Like they were proud of him, any way he came.
Pops released him and stuck a hand out to Miles, who hesitated briefly before taking it.
“Good handshake. Strong,” Pops approved with a solid nod.
Miles' chest puffed out just noticeably and he held his head a little higher. Sway sent a meaningful look to Pops.
***
They'd eaten, seen the stables, walked the orchard, and Sway had told more stories to Miles than he could count about different things he'd done on the farm. The sun was getting low and they went back to the house for chocolate cake and coffee. Apple juice for Miles.
“How's your cake?” Pops asked Miles.
Miles nodded, his face covered in frosting. “It's good. Almost as good as Ryan's.”
Sway knew that Miles didn't feel the air go still, and so he tried to ignore it as well.
“Who's Ryan?” Gran asked, sliding a napkin across the table to Miles.
“Dad's friend. She has a big dog and lives right next door. She makes cake when she can't write.” He went in for another huge forkful.
Gran's gray eyes sparkled a she slid them over to Sway. “She?”
Sway rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and shook his head slowly, his face heating up. He had planned on telling them about Ryan eventually. He just figured that one major life development a day was more than enough.
“Yup,” Miles continued. “She's really pretty and she smells good too.”
Sway had to bite down on his tongue. Miles hadn't said any of these things to him yet; there was no way he could have possibly known they would come spilling out over cake and apple juice. Although, he'd heard stories of kids spilling all kinds of their parents' secrets at improbable times.
Pops quietly got up from the table and cleared his dish. Crossing over to the music player on the corner of the far kitchen cabinet, he silently selected a song. When it began to play, he turned it up and faced his wife.
“Melanie.”
Gran's face was soft with affection and she tsked under breath. As she pushed herself up from the table she muttered, “That man and his music.”
It was Dean Martin and “I Have But One Heart.”
Pops took Gran in his arms and guided her around the kitchen. Their steps sure, their rhythm perfect. He never took his eyes off of her and the shy smile on her face said that she absolutely did not mind dancing with him one bit.
Sway watched them, remembering seeing this many times during his childhood and not realizing what was happening. Until now. A memory flashed through his mind of dancing with Ryan in her kitchen to Frank Sinatra the first night they met.
The song ended, Pops planted a kiss on Gran's cheek and whispered something in her ear. Gran straightened her clothes and turned around, a fresh blush on her cheeks.
“Let's get you cleaned up in the bathroom,” she said to Miles. “Your dad won't appreciate chocolate fingerprints on his upholstery. And I have something to show you that I've been keeping in storage.”
The two wandered off down the hall and Sway faced Pops. “The dancing.”
Pops returned to his seat, a reflective smile twitching behind his beard. “Your Gran turns 85 in two weeks. We're having a shindig. Tents, people, live band.” His pale blue eyes, the ones that matched Sway's, focused on his grandson intently. “Bring your girl. Stay the weekend. Meet the family.”
Sway was already shaking his head. “She's really private and there's noth—”
“Don't try to bullshit me, young man,” Pops cut him off. His smooth voice cutting through Sway's words as if they were nothing. “Have you danced with her?”
Sway swallowed and stared at the table. “Once. The night we met.”
“And?”
“And nothing. One thing at a time right now,” Sway said seriously.
Pops leaned forward, making sure he had Sway's full attention. “Are you afraid for her to meet your folks?”
Sway's lips twitched involuntarily. Pops nodded in understanding.
“But not us?”
“No. Not you.” Sway sighed and rubbed his beard. Which he now realized matched his grandfather's in all except coloring. “You guys would love her.”
Pops serious face split into a grin. “Only because you do.”
Sway smiled and shook his head. But he didn't deny it.
***
“And then I got to sit on a horse!” Miles eyes were huge and his voice was louder than its normal loud. “It was huge! It was like—” he stretched his hands up as high as he could and pushed up on his tiptoes “bigger than this!”
Ryan couldn't stop laughing. This kid was hilarious.
“C'mon, bud. It's late.” Swa
y gave an exaggerated yawn and waved Miles back to the front door.
As soon as they had returned from their adventure that day, they'd come straight over to Ryan's to tell her all about it. Well... Miles did. Sway mostly just sat there in silence. Not upset or anything. No, he appeared more contemplative than anything else.
Miles moved to the door. “And Gran gave me a pair of gloves that my dad used to use.”
Sway ushered him out the front door, still talking. Ryan followed them out onto her porch.
“Get over there and brush your teeth, I'll be in in a minute,” Sway instructed. Miles jumped off the porch and jogged across the yard to the next house. He stopped on the top step of the porch over there and waved at Ryan.
“Bye, Ryan. See you in the morning.”
She waved back, but the screen door was already slamming behind him. She faced Sway, taking in his tired expression and his stormy eyes. She reached up to push his hair out of his face and let her palm rub the soft beard on one cheek before dropping her hand to her side again. A spark lit the clouds in his eyes and then he was kissing her.
Softly. Sweetly. Tender and patient and languid. Her hands ended up in his hair, his ended up on her bottom.
“I like you,” he whispered when the kiss had to break off for air.
She studied his conflicted features, using her hand to smooth the small wrinkle that had developed in between his eyebrows. “Are you doing okay?” she asked sincerely.
So much swept through those blue eyes in the span of a few seconds. It was frightening to see so much genuine emotion directed at her and for her. Her breath caught at his transparency. There weren't any barriers between them. Not anymore. He was telling her everything all at once, all of the time.
If only she knew what it was.
“I'm better than I've ever been and it might be freaking me out,” he said at long last.
She smiled and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. “You need sleep.”
“I need you,” he returned in earnest.
Ryan knew she frowned. She was confused. “You have me.”
Sway's expression remained unchanged. “I'll get you someday.”
He kissed her again. At first she resisted because of what he'd said. She wanted to argue with him and tell him he was crazy. But his lips were patiently wicked and she couldn’t refuse. She melted against him. Within minutes, there was little left of her except for a gooey pile of hot sighs and lazy smiles.
“Goodnight, brown eyes,” he said, opening up her door and guiding her back inside. “Lock this behind me,” he instructed before pulling the door shut behind him.
She did. And then sighed against the door.
Stupid.
Again.
He kissed her stupid.
And she didn't even care.
Chapter 23
Beautiful Day
Ryan stared at the slow drip of the coffee maker, willing it to go faster. Why did it always seem to go extra slow on Sundays? Maybe that was okay for everything else, take it slow one day a week, catch your breath. But not coffee. Never coffee.
Clive, who was sleeping in the middle of the floor of the kitchen like it wasn't completely in the way, snapped to attention, his ears up, face pointed to the door. Ryan's eyes slid to the side, seeing a shadow hovering on her front porch, followed shortly by a timid knock.
“Boof,” Clive said noncommittally.
“Must not be the ax murderer this time,” Ryan observed dryly as she stepped over his large body. Clive glanced up at her, his tail sweeping along the bare floor. “No, don't get up. I've got it.”
It was still pretty early and—as noted earlier—Sunday, so it probably wasn't a package delivery. Besides, those guys seemed to love ringing the bell eight times and then sprinting to their truck. They never knocked politely.
She glanced down at herself to be sure she was dressed appropriately. There had been an unfortunate incident one morning when she'd run to the knock at the front door only to find five city workers on her front porch and she was wearing a sleep shirt that said Party Naked in glitter across her boobs.
Today was a safe red and white raglan baseball shirt declaring her allegiance to Tom Petty, and soft black shorts.
She opened the door and felt a combined frown and smile pop up on her face.
“Miles,” she declared. “What can I do for you?” Sway didn't appear to be with him. And again, it was early.
Miles flashed her a small smile. “I was hoping I could hang out with you and Clive.”
“Where's your dad?”
Miles jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Getting ready.”
Ryan narrowed her eyes at him. “Does he know you're over here?”
Miles shrugged and Ryan sighed while trying to hold back a smile. “All right,” she said, stepping aside. “You can come in for a little bit.”
She closed the door behind him and put her hands on her hips as they both regarded each other.
“Is that what you're wearing today?” Miles asked.
Ryan looked down at her pajamas again. “No, I slept in this. Why?”
Miles lifted one blond eyebrow. “Because I think you have to wear pants when you go to Lowe's.”
Ryan's mouth fell open slightly. “These are shorts!” She narrowed her eyes as he gave her a cheeky grin. “You're lucky you look so much like your dad.” Turning back to the kitchen and her hopefully-ready-by-this-point coffee, she swiped her phone off of the counter and sent a quick text to Sway. She wasn't positive, but she was thinking that Miles' presence was probably not sanctioned.
“Have you had breakfast yet?” she asked, opening her fridge. She had eggs. She always had eggs. Eight-year-olds ate eggs, right?
“Yeah, I had some cereal.” Miles sank to the floor to rub Clive's ears, who groaned in approval.
“Okay, then,” she said under her breath, closing the door and reaching for her coffee—the sweet, sweet nectar of the gods.
The first sip was always scalding and bitter... she loved it. Nothing said “I will always be here for you” like that first cup of coffee in the morning.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
Ryan kept her eyes closed, trying to pretend it was still just her and the dark mistress. How was she supposed to answer that question? Where the hell was Sway? Should eight-year-olds know about girlfriends and boyfriends? That seemed awfully young. But how would Ryan know? She hadn't been 8 in... a while.
“Because my dad doesn't have a girlfriend,” Miles supplied, kicking his legs out and laying down beside Clive, who rubbed his big dog head against Miles' hands. “So I was thinking maybe you could be his girlfriend.”
Ryan took another hot sip, needing it to get to her brain faster. She'd never poured coffee in her ears, maybe that would do it. Or snorting the grounds, that might be an option.
“Ryan?”
She opened her eyes slowly and looked at Sway's boy. In such a short time he'd wiggled his way into a special place in her heart. Just like someone else she knew. “Yeah, sweetie?”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“I heard you.”
Miles looked perplexed.
“Why do you think your dad needs a girlfriend?” Ryan asked, sliding down to sit on the floor with him, her back pressed to the cupboards.
Miles rolled his eyes. “He doesn't need one.”
Ryan chuckled. “Okay, then why are you even asking about it at all?”
Miles sat up, brushed his hair out of his eyes, and looked at her seriously. “You like him, right?”
Ryan's smile grew. “That's not really answering my question.” Miles' hands were twisted in Clive's thick fur. The dog had moved his big head to be in Mile's lap. “Do you just really love Clive?”
Miles' face flushed and he smiled, looking off to the side.
“You can always visit Clive.”
“Yeah, but this kid in my class has a dog that sleeps in his bed every night.”
“Clive would l
ove that,” Ryan declared without really thinking about it. She saw the hope light up on Mile's face and quickly added, “But you shouldn't be looking to get your dad a girlfriend simply because you want a dog.”
“I know.” His little shoulders fell.
Ryan took advantage of the lull to change the topic at hand. “Are you excited to go to Lowe's today?”
“I guess.”
“Yeah, it's probably not the most exciting place,” Ryan agreed, matching his tone.
Those blues came up and tangled with her own. He studied her carefully, seeing something he wasn't planning on sharing just yet, but it was more than most kids his age she'd venture.
“Miles?” Sway's loud call came from the entry, causing Clive to lever up quickly.
“We're in here,” Ryan responded.
***
Sway hadn't even known that Miles was gone. He'd been in the shower. So when he received Ryan's text, informing him of his son's location, he about had a panic attack.
He heard Ryan's call from the kitchen and as he cleared the living room, his people came into view.
Ryan's hair was in that messy knot on top of her head that she seemed to enjoy so much, long, tangled tendrils falling out haphazardly. He lingered on her dark eyes as they warmed even further just by his entrance. He was aware that she was in some of the tiniest shorts he'd ever seen, but he'd have a look at those in a minute. Right now he had to talk to the boy.
“Miles,” he said tersely. “A word.”
He stepped out of the kitchen as Miles scrambled to his feet. He wasn't sure what he was going to say. A lot of different phrases and colorful metaphors had been ricocheting around in his head since he'd found out that Miles had left the house without telling him. He knew he couldn't use any of them. But he had to say something. He couldn't just let Miles do whatever he wanted. Even though he was the newest form of authority in Miles' life, and maybe he didn't have a right. Maybe he had no place telling Miles what to do.
But at the very least, he was Miles' babysitter for these two weeks. Alexa had entrusted him to his care. And damned if Sway was going to let her down.
“Okay, bud,” Sway started, crouching down and getting on Miles' level. “You can't leave the house when I'm in the shower.”
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