Briefly, Naomi’s breath caught in her throat. She could almost feel the heat radiating off of Ryan. It made her unexpectedly speechless. Albeit, only for a moment. “I like gardening,” Naomi answered. “I’m not proclaiming to be very good at it, but last year I grew some pretty passable carrots.”
In fact, her carrots had turned out excellent. Naomi had been incredibly proud of that. It wasn’t the most exciting of hobbies to talk about, so she would spare Ryan her enthusiastic rant about carrots.
“That… is not what I expected you to say,” Ryan admitted. He chuckled again, like Naomi had told him a particularly good joke. Naomi wasn’t sure if she should be pleased about not giving an answer Ryan might’ve anticipated. It definitely felt good, knowing that she could surprise him. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone who grows carrots for a hobby. Do you have a vegetable patch?” His tone wasn’t mocking. If anything, he sounded quite delighted.
“Not a vegetable patch, no,” she shook her head. “I’ve got a greenhouse. Carrots and tomatoes are doing well. I tried to grow a pumpkin. So far, not with a great deal of luck.” Naomi shrugged. She enjoyed gardening. It was a calming sort of thing to do. Naomi had also been pretty excited to learn that once she knew what a particular seed felt like, she could recall it and identify it from just a touch.
“I could show you,” she told Ryan, a little bravely. “If you’re interested in my vegetables, I mean.” That was definitely said with a smirk against her lips. Naomi doubted Ryan would miss the double meaning to her words.
He snorted. It made Naomi grin, pretty proud of herself. But he didn’t reply immediately. There was a hesitation as his running shoes scuffled against the road. For a moment, she assumed he’d say no. That would be disappointing, but fine. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had turned Naomi down.
“Yeah,” Ryan said, surprising her because of how long the pause had been. “That sounds really cool.” He fumbled in his pocket. “Do you want to give me your address?”
Naomi’s smile was wide enough that she could feel it aching slightly in her cheeks. “Yeah, yeah, I do.” She nodded before taking her phone out. It didn’t take long for her to save Ryan’s name in her phone so she could tell it to text him her address.
“How about dinner?” Naomi suggested. “You pick a day, I’ll cook.” It was too late in the year for them to eat any of Naomi’s homegrown vegetables. Fortunately, she could cook perfectly well with store-bought ones
“You cook, too?” Ryan asked, his tone was teasing. “If I hadn’t just run a race to support the guide dogs, I might be feeling pretty bad about my lack of skills. At least, skills that aren’t directly related to my job.”
There was a thoughtful pause. “I’m great at bowling,” Ryan offered. “Not quite as useful as growing tomatoes or cooking.” Naomi could see why Ryan might not see it as useful the same way cooking was. Or gardening, for that matter. “I’m also good at picking out wine,” Ryan promised. “So I can bring the drinks?”
“Yeah, wine would be great,” Naomi nodded. Someone in the distance called her name and Dougie made a small whining noise. “That’s my cue. We’re doing photos in a bit, I’ll see you then.” While it was still going to be her and Ryan, Naomi knew there’d also be a lot of other people around. “Dinner and wine, and greenhouses,” she grinned.
Tugging lightly on Dougie’s harness, Naomi had him lead her away. There was no hiding that smile on her lips, though.
Naomi looked forward to getting to know Ryan better.
Maybe she’d even ask him about the dick pic.
The race had brought in a good amount of both donations and press. Even after just one event, Naomi could tell that having Ryan on board would be a great advantage. The Howlers’ media had retweeted the pictures of Ryan, which had boosted the Foundation’s visibility a lot.
In the days after, Naomi had been busy answering calls. She was already organizing the next event to raise money and awareness for the Foundation. She had hardly forgotten her promise to cook Ryan a dinner.
“What do you think, Dougie? Is he a medium or a rare steak kind of man?” Naomi asked as she made sure the steaks were ready to be cooked once Ryan got there. She’d made a nice mixed vegetable bake to serve as a side. All that was left was to wait for Ryan to show up.
Dougie - whose only real interest was in how much leftover steak Ryan would leave - barked when the doorbell rang. “Best behavior,” Naomi instructed as she walked through the house to open the door once she’d checked it was Ryan.
“Dougie reckons you’re a medium steak kind of guy,” she informed Ryan, letting him in.
Ryan laughed. It made Naomi grin, pleased with her efforts. She wanted Ryan to feel comfortable in her home, and around her. Getting him to laugh seemed like a good start.
“Is that because Dougie is a medium steak kind of dog?” he asked. He closed the door behind him, hanging up his jacket on the coat rack. “You said he’s not working when he’s at home, right? Does that mean I can pet him?”
“You can pet him,” Naomi confirmed. It was nice of Ryan to both remember what she’d said about Dougie being just a dog once he was home and to ask whether it was okay to pet him. Some days, Naomi felt like everyone knew you should ask before petting a working dog and others... it was surprising how many people assumed they could just pet a service dog.
Ryan knelt down to pet Dougie. The dog’s excited tail bounced against Naomi’s leg. “And yes, Dougie is a big fan of a medium steak,” she answered. “Are you? That’s what we’re having,” Naomi explained. Presumably, Ryan might’ve guessed that from her question.
“I am,” Ryan confirmed. “Honestly, I’ll eat steak any way it comes. I don’t have the patience to cook it perfectly when it’s just me.” He gave Dougie a few more rough pats. When he stood, his hand brushed lightly, intentionally, against Naomi’s elbow. It was only a moment, but it made Naomi beam happily up at him.
Dougie, clearly after more attention, lifted his nose to Naomi’s hand. “That said, I’m not completely useless in the kitchen. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Sure, you can help me cook the steak,” Naomi laughed. “Come, I’ll show you where the kitchen is.” He followed her through, handing Naomi the wine once they were in the kitchen. “Everything’s already set up, it’s just putting the steaks on,” she explained, feeling for the shelf with wine glasses on.
“I’m assuming you’re having some of this?” Naomi asked. “Is it white or red?” she added. Naomi had the right sort of glasses for either. “Or are you someone who goes for a rosé just in case?” she teased. Naomi definitely knew people who did do that.
Judging by Ryan’s laugh, he wasn’t one of them. “It’s red,” he assured her. “Malbec, to be precise. White wine is for summer.” He said it so deadpan, as if that were an actual rule. Naomi must have looked skeptical, because he laughed again.
“Maybe it’s just that I’m not training in the summer,” he amended. “I tend to eat a bit lighter. I’m not using up as many calories. Lots of salads means lots of white wine.”
Naomi imagined that Ryan probably had to eat a lot. She didn’t know what a hockey player’s diet might be like, but she did know that the work was heavy on the exercise. It was one of the reasons she’d opted to serve them steak. Couldn’t go wrong with meat - unless Ryan had turned out to be a vegetarian. That had seemed unlikely. And clearly, she’d been right to presume so.
“What do you normally do over summer?” Naomi asked, locating the wine glasses. “Do you stay in Madison or... where is that you’re from?” She probably could’ve found this out via a quick internet search. Asking seemed... better. And less creepy.
Ryan hummed. “Dad’s from Kansas, mom’s from Missouri. I kind of grew up between the two,” he answered. “They got divorced when I was five, so they shared custody of me and my sister.” He moved closer, his elbow bumping against Naomi’s as he surveyed the steaks.
“I go see them most summers,”
he added, in answer to her earlier question. “A couple of weeks with each of them, a couple of weeks away somewhere, then it’s basically time to come back to Madison.”
“My parents got divorced when I was five, too!” Naomi said, a little surprised by the coincidence. Obviously, plenty of people came from divorced families. Still, it made Naomi wonder whether that was something that made her and Ryan similar or if their experiences had been very different. “I was raised by my dad, though. No being split between two homes,” she added.
Once the wine was poured, Naomi slid the glass slightly closer to Ryan, trusting him to pick it up. She turned to lean against the counter, taking a sip of the wine. “I’m from Madison,” she added. “Born and raised,” Naomi smiled. “My dad’s supported Howlers since forever.” He was already excited that Ryan had come on board to support the Sunshine Foundation.
Ryan gave a delighted-sounding laugh at that. “Clearly, a man of exceptional taste,” he teased. “My mom’s the hockey fan. She always was, even before I started playing it. Really, she’s why I started.” He paused, lifting the glass to take a sip. “When it looked like I was going to be able to play seriously, I pretty much moved in with her to finish high school,” he explained.
He shifted closer, easing the steaks away from Naomi so he could move them onto the grill. “You’re going to have to help me get these right,” he informed her, nudging her lightly.
She laughed at that, but nodded. “I can do that,” Naomi promised. “I can also teach you how to know,” she added. “There’s a pretty easy system involving your hand.” It was something Naomi’s dad had taught her. She enjoyed passing that knowledge on to others. It helped to be able to just poke the food to know if it was ready, since she could hardly see if it was.
“Was it hard, learning to cook?” Ryan asked. “I mean, I wouldn’t even know where to begin if I couldn’t watch youtube videos and read recipes.” He sounded uncertain, like he wasn’t sure if it was a question he should be asking.
“Some things are harder than others,” Naomi answered honestly. “But a lot of cooking is about muscle memory. Once you learn, it’s pretty straight forward. Obviously, I have to be careful not to burn myself or lose a finger. But then, that applies to a lot of clumsy people, too,” she joked.
Taking another sip of her wine, she gave Ryan a smile. “It’s fine to ask me things you want to know,” she promised. “I assume you don’t know many blind people.” It seemed like a pretty safe bet from the awkwardness Naomi could sense.
“I don’t,” Ryan confirmed. “I did read about the Sunshine Foundation, though. I now know a bit more about how guide dogs work.” That, really, was quite sweet. Naomi guessed Ryan hadn’t been motivated to do any reading before the run. The fact he now felt he had enough reason made her smile.
The steaks gave off a sizzling, and the kitchen filled with the savory smell of cooking. Dougie’s tail thumped lightly against Naomi’s legs. “Are there certain questions that you get a lot?” Ryan asked. “Ones that you get tired of, I mean.” He lifted his glass again. “I could talk about hockey all day, but even I get a bit bored if I have loads of interviews in a row.”
Naomi had to think about that. Mostly, she imagined that Ryan assumed people asked her stuff about being blind all the time, which they really didn’t. “It usually depends on the person. A lot of people try to help me more than I need to.” That, at least, Naomi could say with a lot of confidence. It was sweet in a way, but also kind of patronizing.
“Tell me about hockey,” Naomi suggested. “I’ve only skated once. I can’t honestly say I liked it very much.” Not being able to see what was in front of her and going at a great speed were not things that Naomi had particularly enjoyed. “But,” she added. “I think it’s a bit different if you can see,” she joked.
That startled a laugh out of Ryan. Naomi hoped it would help him feel a little more comfortable, knowing that she could joke about her lack of sight.
“Hockey’s the best sport in the world,” Ryan answered her, without the least hesitation. “And it takes the most skill. There’s such a thin line between getting the puck exactly where you want, exactly when you want and fucking it all up. You have to get everything right - your balance, your momentum, knowing which way the person you’re passing to is going to move. And all without falling on your ass!”
Even without seeing it, Naomi could tell that Ryan’s eyes were wide. There might even be some handwaving. He certainly sounded passionate. It was... nice. Naomi wasn’t sure what she had expected, perhaps more arrogance. Being a professional hockey player came with a lot of fame. It was easy to forget that under it, they were just players who loved the game.
Setting her glass down, Naomi located the plates and then pulled the vegetable dish out of the oven. “It’s easy to tell you love the game,” she commented. “How does that compare with all the other obligations?” she asked curiously, putting the oven mitts to one side. “Like doing charity work because you’re famous.” That last bit was said teasingly, but it was still true.
Ryan paused, his body stilling slightly as if there was a tension thrumming through him. “Honestly, I mostly care about the game,” he said slowly. “I mean, we have a charity gala every year, and I sponsor people I know from home when they’re doing marathons or whatever, but -” He shrugged.
“I haven’t looked out for charity opportunities.” Knowing what she did about why Ryan had been assigned to the Sunshine Foundation, Naomi didn’t find that terribly surprising. “Ashley’s probably tried to get me to do things before now. She’s big on win-win situations, where we help a charity out and we look good for the media.”
He flipped one of the steaks, and then the other. “I don’t mean this as a criticism of the Foundation, but it’s always seemed a bit… fake, to do something good because I want the papers to stop writing shit about me.”
“And yet, here you are,” Naomi teased. She couldn’t see the surprised look on Ryan’s face but Naomi presumed it was there. “My colleagues do assure me that your reasons for helping us are at least very well endowed,” Naomi assured Ryan. She only managed to wait a few seconds before bursting out laughing.
“I’m sorry, that is probably very inappropriate.” It was still funny. Naomi didn’t imagine it was that bad. “I meant what I said, though. I’m really glad you agreed to help us. We’re already seeing an increase in our social media presence. Whatever your reasons are, it’s leading to good results.”
“I hope that’s not the only reason you invited me over for dinner,” Ryan said. The tension had vanished from his voice, and he bumped an arm companionably against Naomi. “I’m glad my being involved is helping, but I’d feel like shit if I was getting special treatment because of it.”
He laughed, setting his glass of wine down on his other side. “On the other hand, if I’m getting special treatment because your colleagues have been telling you that I’m ‘endowed’, I’m a hundred percent okay with that.”
“Well endowed,” Naomi corrected before shaking her head. “That’s not why,” she promised. “I thought we had a... connection?” she offered. That was certainly true. Naomi didn’t see any point in being shy about it. “I wanted to get to know you better.” Ryan’s dick size really had nothing to do with that.
“And to make you cook steak for us,” she added with a grin, taking a step closer to Ryan. Naomi’s shoulder brushed against his side and she used her hand against his arm to locate the frying pan. “Both of these are medium, so you might want to take them off,” she advised.
Ryan did, reaching past Naomi to turn the grill off. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I thought we had a connection, too.” It was good to hear him say so. Naomi couldn’t help feeling it boded well for the rest of their date. “Where will I find plates?”
Once Naomi had told him, and the food was plated, Ryan topped up both their glasses and helped Naomi carry the food to the next room. “So,” he said, once they’d settled. “Was it just you an
d your dad growing up?”
“Yeah,” Naomi nodded easily. “My parents got married because they thought they were soulmates. They had matching soulmate names and all,” she explained. “Turns out, they really weren’t.” Naomi had been too young to know any different. To her, there were very few memories with her parents actually together. “My mom wanted... I don’t know what she wanted, but it wasn’t family.” There might have been an argument to make that it had been made particularly difficult by having a blind kid. Naomi didn’t tend to focus on that.
In the years since, she’d had some therapy. It had helped her come to accept that the divorce was never her fault. A five year old was not at fault if their parents separated, especially when they weren’t soulmates.
“So it was just my dad and me. He’s always been great. It took him a while to learn how to be a single dad, especially a single dad with a blind kid, but...” Naomi gave a shrug. “We made it.”
Ryan was quiet, except for the appreciative noises he made as he sampled Naomi’s vegetable bake. It didn’t seem to be an awkward silence. More, Naomi felt, like Ryan was processing everything she’d said, giving it his full attention. It was nice.
“He clearly did pretty well,” Ryan commented. “You’re successful, you’re helping run a charity to help people who need it. Is he proud?”
“I run a charity to help people who need it,” Naomi corrected. It was not the first time that someone had presumed her position in the Sunshine Foundation was lower than what it actually was. “I set it up,” she explained before smiling. “And yeah, of course he is. I think equal parts proud of me and proud of himself for having done so well at raising me,” she laughed.
That made Ryan laugh. “Yeah, I get that,” he said. Naomi could hear the fondness in his voice. “My mom’s kind of like that. Always boasts that it was her who gave me the hockey bug. She’s not wrong.”
Empty Net (Madison Howlers Book 3) Page 3