by Aly Martinez
She’d fallen asleep over an hour earlier with her head on my shoulder, her front snug against my side like we were two puzzle pieces, and her legs wound around mine in the most uncomfortable way possible.
But I didn’t dare move.
If I did, she would have stirred, purring like a kitten before tipping her head up to sweetly kiss the underside of my jaw.
I’d purposely done it a few times, my chest tightening with each touch of her lips.
And then it had become too much.
Predominantly, because it wasn’t enough. Nowhere close to enough.
I wanted to wake her up and force her to keep talking. I wanted to kiss her again, this time sweeping my tongue with hers. I wanted her on top of me, flush head to toe. I wanted to trace my fingers over every inch of her body as she writhed beneath me.
I wanted as much of her as I could possibly get.
But not at the risk of losing her.
She wasn’t ready for what I wanted from her. But I’d wait.
For Rita… I. Would. Wait.
Because over the last few hours, as I’d held that unbelievable woman at my side, talking and laughing, getting to know each other until she finally fell asleep, she’d done it with her head on my shoulder, her front snug against my side like we were two puzzle pieces, and her legs wound around mine in the most uncomfortable way possible…
And with her hand over my heart.
Not my abs.
I’d always heard that it was the little things that mean the most in a relationship.
And, in that moment, I understood that more than ever.
Her hair was a mess.
Her makeup was smudged.
She was wearing my T-shirt, baggy and loose. She hadn’t tried to tie it up into something sexy.
She hadn’t asked for a tour of the house.
She hadn’t asked to see my bedroom.
She was so damn content to be swinging on a hammock with me on my porch that she’d fallen asleep mid-conversation.
And she’d done it with her hand over my heart.
Not my abs.
Yeah. Life was all about the little things.
And, in just one night, it made me realize that Rita was one of life’s big things.
* * *
On my twenty-first birthday, I’d gone skydiving. I’d never forget the terror or exhilaration of standing in the doorway, looking down at the ant farm that was Atlanta from that height.
And, in the eleven years since I’d taken that faithful leap, I’d never experienced anything quite like it.
That is until I folded out of my car in front of North Point Pulmonology on Monday morning after Rita had not responded to a single one of my texts after I’d dropped her off at her house on Sunday morning.
She’d woken up bright and obscenely early, asking that I take her home. Her rush to leave was definitely not what I was used to. Women usually made every excuse in the book to hang out with me for the day.
Not Rita.
She was dressed, her heels tapping down my stairs while I was still trying to use every excuse in the book to keep her there for the day. She’d bought exactly none of them.
Hell, the woman wouldn’t even let me cook her breakfast. That was an offer that had never been refused.
I’d loved that she’d refused.
I’d loathed taking her home.
Greg had thankfully been gone when we’d pulled up at her place, but I’d still hated the idea of leaving her there. More accurately, I’d hated the idea of leaving her period. But she hadn’t invited me in. Though she had brushed her smiling mouth against mine and promised me she’d call me later.
A promise she had not kept.
We’d agreed on casual. Call me naïve, but I assumed that meant responding to texts that thanks to her read receipts, I knew she was reading. I wasn’t as much upset or put off as I was worried that she was rethinking our little arrangement. Giving her some space to get her head straight was probably the smartest move I could make.
But patience had never been my strong suit.
So there I was, pulling a crazy-ass Shana Beckwit and showing up at her job unannounced at eleven thirty in the morning under the guise of I just so happen to be in the neighborhood, so how about lunch?
Lunch was casual, right?
My nerves were thrumming like an electrical current as I walked to the front entrance. Sucking in one last breath that did nothing to calm me, I pushed my sunglasses up to the top of my head, slapped on an award-winning smile, and walked inside.
It was a nice office, excluding the picture of Douchebag Greg hanging on the wall, of course. Strategically, I avoided eye contact with the handful of people in the waiting room as I approached the check-in window.
Just as I got close, a nurse wearing pink-and-purple scrubs swung a door open and called, “Mr. Thom—” She froze the minute our eyes met. “Holy shhhh…oot.” She clutched a medical file to her chest and did the fish-out-of-water mouth thing a few times before finally stammering, “You’re… You’re Tanner Reese.”
Fuck.
I offered her a tight smile and a chin jerk, praying she was the gape-from-afar type of fan, before carrying on to the receptionist, who was luckily not peering at me like a snack. “I’m here to see—”
“Rita,” the nurse finished, and this time, when my gaze landed on hers, her mouth was no longer hanging open, but rather curled into a sly smile. “You’re here to see Rita.” The stars had faded from her eyes as she extended a hand my way. “I’m Sidney, Rita’s number-two bestie.”
Sighing with relief that she probably wasn’t about to throw herself into my arms, I took her hand and teased, “Number two, huh?”
She gave me a firm shake before releasing it. “She’s got a history with Charlotte, and I’ve got a guy I like to spend time with, so it works for both of us. I was at her house before your date on Saturday night.”
“Ah, the crazy friend with issues. So nice to meet you.”
She waved me off. “Don’t listen to Rita. I’m only crazy when she’s being crazy. Like when she was trying to talk herself out of going to dinner with a certain man you may know. You’re welcome, by the way.”
A wry smile tipped my lips. So I had an in with bestie number two. Score one for Team Reese.
“Any chance you’d be willing to work that crazy again and convince her to have lunch with me?”
She blinked. “Convince her? Did she say no?”
I lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “I haven’t asked her yet. Maybe you could let her know I’m here so I can convince her?”
“Oh, I can do you one better. It’s all about the element of surprise with Rita.” She paused, pressing her lips together before adding, “Or cheese. She responds well to that too.”
Jesus, this woman really was crazy, but I kind of loved that Rita had friends like her. It made more sense with how well she’d gotten along with Kevin.
I glanced down to see a shiny band on her ring finger. Damn. She would have been perfect for Porter.
Making a show of patting my pockets down, I smarted, “I think we’re going to have to go with surprise today. I left the Gruyere at home.”
“You’d do better with Asiago,” she returned.
And Rita liked Asiago. Excellent insider information that sealed the fate of where I was taking her if and when she agreed to have lunch with me.
Pushing the door wide, Sidney slanted her head in invitation. “Come on, Tanner Reese. I’ll take you to her office.”
Despite the usually off-putting use of my full name, I got to stepping.
It wasn’t a long walk, but during those nerve-racking seconds, I practiced what I was going to lead with.
Things I came up with that wouldn’t make me look like a stalker: nothing.
Seriously. I was terrible at this crap. This was why God had graced me with the abs-and-smile package. He had known I couldn’t handle the responsibility of chasing a good woman.
&
nbsp; I felt Sidney’s gaze land on me.
“Are you…okay?”
“Yeah. Of course. Why?”
She barked a laugh. “I’m not going to lie. Seeing a man like you freaking out over my girl is doing some really good things to my romantic side.”
I leveled her with a weak scowl, but it only made her laughter intensify.
We stopped at the end of a hall, and the sound of Rita’s voice floating out from the other side of the door caused my mouth to split into a goofy grin.
“Oh, wow,” Sidney breathed. “That smile is even better than the freak-out.”
Nervously brushing my hair off my forehead, I replied, “You tell her about either and I’m canceling your reservation for the opening of The Tannerhouse next week.”
“My reservation?” She gasped. “Shut up!”
“My way of saying thanks for getting crazy on her Saturday night. Fair warning: Bring your man with you or I’m going to try to set you up with my miserable brother, wedding ring or not.”
“As very exciting as your ‘miserable brother’ sounds, I’ll bring my guy.”
I dipped my chin, sucked in a deep breath, and lifted my hand to knock, but Sidney beat me to it.
“You have to know the code or she won’t answer.”
“The code?”
Her pretty face scrunched. “After Dickhead Greg saw you two together the other night, he’s been pacing this hallway any free minute he finds. Don’t worry. I’ve done what I can to keep him preoccupied. I just dumped a stack of charts on his desk for review.” She glanced around the hall and then finished in a conspiratorial whisper with, “Some of them aren’t even his patients.”
Yeah. It was safe to say that I really fucking liked that Rita had friends like Sidney.
“I call him Douchebag Greg,” I told her, flashing her an appreciative grin.
“I’d call him a lot worse if he didn’t sign my paychecks.”
Shit. I hadn’t thought about it, but he probably signed Rita’s paychecks too. That was no doubt going to turn into a shit show soon enough. However, I wasn’t in the position to convince her to find a new job. At least not yet. We’d get there though. Provided she went to lunch with me. Those same nerves ignited inside me again.
“So, what’s the code?” I asked, attempting to use my nonexistent x-ray vision on the door.
She pointed at her mouth. “My voice. My husband, Kent, is a detective. He loves me so much that he’d probably cover for me if I, say, accidentally tripped and somehow dropped a box of rat poison in Greg’s coffee, this being done after he asked me to get a message to Rita for him. Fun fact: Greg knows this. Rita too. So voila, the code was born. Watch this.” She knocked. “Rita, open up. It’s me.”
My back shot straight when the door swung open and my blonde appeared. She had a phone pressed to her ear, the curly cord stretched out across the office behind her. Today, she was wearing a simple black pencil skirt with a blue silk blouse tucked into the top. More pearls around her neck. Another pair of black heels. But her lips? They were pink this time.
I had no idea what she was going to say about me randomly showing up at her office. And as her green gaze slid to mine, I was standing on the ledge of that plane all over again, knowing it was either the best or worst decision I’d ever made.
My heart was in my throat, and blood thundered in my ears, but all I could get out was a whispered, “Hey.”
I waited, holding my breath as her eyes flashed wide. And then she put me out of my misery with a mesmerizing smile.
“Hey,” she mouthed, waving with one hand for us to come in while still holding the phone to her ear. “Okay, Mr. Simmons. Let me look back at our records and I’ll get back to you ASAP. Right. Uh huh. Okay. I’ll give you a call back this afternoon. Okay. Sounds good. Talk to you then. Buhbye.” She backed up to the desk, sinking onto the edge while blindly attempting to hang up the phone.
Through it all, her eyes—and her smile—remained glued to me.
She was happy to see me.
Genuinely.
Relief surged through me like a tidal wave.
“Look who I found roaming the halls,” Sidney said when Rita finally managed to land the receiver in its base.
Rita glanced at her for only the briefest of seconds before asking me, “What are you doing here?”
“Not stalking you. That’s for sure.” Yes. That was what came out of my mouth.
She laughed musically.
Yes. That’s what came out of her mouth.
While God had not given me the wherewithal to chase a good woman, he had sent me a good woman who thought this inability was funny. I could work with that.
Sidney nudged me with her elbow, and I nudged her back before adding, “And to see if you wanted to maybe go to lunch.”
“Yeah. Sure,” Rita chirped. “I’m starving.”
My smile got bigger.
So did hers.
Which, in turn, meant mine got bigger than big.
“Awww.” Sidney rested a hand over her heart. “Look at you two, grinning like a bunch of weirdos. I’m going to leave you two to this awkward moment of bliss.” Flinging a hand out, she slapped my shoulder with the medical file she’d been holding. “My last name’s Day. D-A-Y. Day. Like…of the week. What time is my reservation at The Tannerhouse?”
Rita’s eyebrows shot up. “Your reservation?”
I kept my gaze locked on Rita as I replied to her friend, “You tell me.”
“Seven? Table for four? My sister may never speak to me again if I get a table and don’t take her. So, obviously, I need to ignore her and invite Kent’s brother and his wife.”
“Done,” I confirmed.
She turned on a toe, calling over her shoulder, “Enjoy your lunch.” And then she closed the door.
Rita stood off the corner of the desk as soon as we were alone. “Sorry about her. I told you she has issues.”
Ambling forward, I closed the distance between us. “Yeah, but you also said you’d call me. And that didn’t happen, so…”
Her face filled with apology as she looped her arms around my hips like it was the most natural gesture in the world. And for the way it warmed my chest, I hoped maybe it was.
“I know and I’m so sorry,” she said. “Yesterday was a tad crazy. I didn’t want to unload on you after I’d already unloaded on you the night before. But I swear I was going to call after I got off work today.” She smiled, sweet and stunning. “But you stopping by is better.”
That felt good, especially after I’d nearly talked myself out of going to her at least a dozen times. But something she’d said did not sit well with me. “Define crazy?” I mirrored her position, our arms crossing as I linked my hands at the small of her back.
She gave me a squeeze. “How about we talk about where we’re going to lunch instead?”
“Rita,” I pressed.
“Tanner,” she mimicked in the most ridiculous deep rumble that sounded nothing like my voice. But it was cute…and a little annoying.
“Talk to me,” I urged.
“Please refer back to the ‘I didn’t want to unload on you’ comment.”
I bent at the knee to bring us eye level. “That’s what I’m here for. I unload on you. You unload on me. If I need to sit out in the hall so you can do it from the other side of the door, I can make that happen.”
She gave my chest a patronizing pat. “Trust me, honey. You don’t want any part of the last twenty-four hours of my life.”
“Try me.”
“Or you could take me to lunch and forget I said anything.”
“Or you could talk to me.”
Her gaze cut off to the side. “Tanner, It’s just… I don’t know. Maybe we should save the drama dump for a day in the distant, distant future.”
“First, I like that you’re thinking about our distant, distant future.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Secondly, I made it pretty clear the other night that I
want to explore this thing with you. And despite your inability to reply to my texts—which, from here on out, I’m going to assume was driven by a medical condition and not your desire to talk to me—I seem to remember you saying you want to explore this thing with me too.” I gave her a gentle shake, and begrudgingly, she gave me back her eyes. “We’re in this together, remember? You slept in my hammock, Rita. Snored in my face and everything. If that doesn’t say together, I don’t know what does.”
Slapping my chest, she laughed, “Shut up. I did not.”
“No. You didn’t. But as a testament to how much I like you, it would have been okay if you had.”
“Well, I can’t say the same. You better pray you don’t snore in my hammock.”
“Hey!” I feigned offense, but I couldn’t hide my laugh, so I doubted that it packed any heat. “I drama dumped on you. It’s only fair…”
“Okay, okay, fine.” She blew out a resigned sigh and then dropped her head to my chest so I couldn’t see her face. “Your brother is a jerk.”
My chin jerked to the side. “Porter? What did he do?”
“He took Charlotte on a date.”
“Damn. He’s terrible at that crap. Where did he take her?”
“I don’t know and it doesn’t matter because it’s not happening again. But she was pissed at me for kinda-sorta hooking them up, so after I got home yesterday, I listened to her yell at me for a while, and then, while I was trying to find some carbs in my fridge to commiserate with, I realized he stole my fish.”
“Porter stole your fish?”
“No,” she impatiently told our shoes. “Greg stole my fish. And I know what you are thinking. It was just a stupid fish. But it was my fish, Tanner.”
Greg.
Fucking Greg.
Where was a bubbling volcano in need of a human sacrifice when I needed one?
“Fuck him. I’ll buy you a new fish. A whole aquarium full of ’em.”
“Please don’t,” she whined, rolling her forehead back and forth on my chest. “I could barely remember to feed the one I had. It’s just the principle of it.”