“Don’t be loud,” Juliet said, her voice a pleading whine.
I took Tess’s hand in mine and said goodnight quickly to Gran and Juliet before practically pulling Tess up the stairs.
At the top of the stairs I hesitated, not sure which room we should head into, and part of me still suffered some disbelief that she was mine to take anywhere. Instead of manhandling her into a bedroom and then pinning her beneath me against a wall, I pulled her to my chest and looked down into her eyes, shining in the darkness.
“I can’t believe I get to hold you,” I said, wishing my words were more eloquent, more right.
“I can’t believe you said all those things in the tent and I didn’t get to say a word,” she said.
A tiny trickle of panic tried to work its way through me. She was right—I’d done all the talking. I’d said ‘I love you’ and we’d barely gotten to speak after that. I’d gone to talk to the magazine and she’d joined me after a few minutes, but we hadn’t had a moment alone since then. “You can say whatever you want to now,” I said.
I could barely see her in the darkness, but the sliver of reflected light shining off the hardwood floor of the hall reflected onto her face enough for me to know her pretty face transformed into a wicked grin, and she pulled me into her bedroom and shut the door behind us.
“Sit down,” she commanded, turning on a lamp next to the bed that cast the room in a warm pink glow that reminded me of her, of pure femininity, of softness and home. “Take off your shirt.”
My skin tingled, my body began to buzz and my cock jumped to attention immediately. I liked where this was going. But I hoped to hear her repeat my words again, if only because I’d never said them to anyone before and there was a sliver of childish doubt trying to work its way into my newfound happiness.
When my shirt was in a pile next to the bed, Tess knelt between my legs and reached for my belt as I watched her hands, my body flooding with want.
I inhaled sharply as her slim white fingers grazed my abdomen and she worked on my belt buckle. I watched, unable to tear my eyes away from her hands, so close to me. She pulled the belt out, loop by loop and held it in her hands as she stood back up. There was something mischievous in her smile, and for a second I wondered if she planned to smack me with the belt. A tiny jolt of excitement spiked inside me, but then she turned and let the belt slip from her hands.
“Now that you’ve got me here, what do you plan to do with me?”
“You’ll see,” she said, looking over her shoulder at me, her hair falling down her back just above that perfect round ass. My body was thrumming and all I wanted was to pull her down on me, to feel every inch of her with my hands, my mouth … my … everything.
She went around the room, tidying things up as my body screamed for action, or for words at least. “Tess, I—“
“I’m thinking,” she said suddenly, turning back to face me. “It’s just … I … Ryan, this all happened so fast. And I’m trying to work out how much of it I can trust.”
“I had to take my shirt off for that?”
“It helps me think,” she said, grinning as she turned to face me.
“I can take my pants off too,” I offered.
She rolled her eyes.
“You can trust all of it, Tess.” I stood, but something about her posture, her straight back, her crossed arms, made me stand still. “I meant all of it.”
“And I believe you. Or I want to. I just … I don’t trust me, my own heart, I guess.”
“Why?” I asked, taking a slow step forward. If she still had doubts, I had every intention of holding her close, of proving my love to her with every inch of myself until they’d been banished. “What is it saying?”
A half-smile lifted one side of her mouth and her eyes widened. God, I wanted to hold her. But I held back, approaching slowly, trying not to spook her.
“It’s telling me to run into your arms, to bury my head in your chest, to hold onto you as tightly as I can and to stay there as long as you’ll let me.” She dropped my gaze immediately after saying these words. “It’s saying I love you, and it scares the shit out of me.”
“I love you,” I said simply, my heart pounding so loudly I thought they could probably hear it downstairs.
She shook her head and laughed. “This just … It doesn’t happen like this, right? In three days?”
I shrugged. “It did for me.”
The hazel eyes flickered across mine and then dropped again. “For me too.”
“Tess,” I said softly, and she looked up then, meeting me fully in the eye. “Come here.”
She hesitated, lingering a minute more by the soft pink chair in the corner, and then I watched the hesitation fall from her face like a mask, and she rushed into my arms, her hands sliding up my back and pressing hard against me as my skin caught fire again.
Her body was perfect against mine, hot and supple and soft, and I found the zipper holding her inside the rust-colored sheath, dropping it to the ground around her ankles without letting her go. A tiny whimper escaped her as the dress fell, and I swept her up into my arms, carrying her to the bed, where I laid her before me in her purple lace panties and strapless bra. “Perfect,” I might have said aloud.
She smiled then, a happy look that telegraphed her acceptance of this crazy truth, her belief that three days could be enough, that they could be the beginning of forever. I straddled her hips and her hands found the button of my pants, unfastening it and pushing them down over my hips. I stood again to rid myself of them, and my boxer briefs, and then slid back on top of her.
I leaned forward, taking her mouth with mine as her hands searched my body, leaving little lines of fire everywhere they touched me. Her tongue was sweet and eager, sliding against mine hungrily, and I had to break off the kiss as she arched beneath me, worried I might ruin it all much too fast. She was too perfect, too… everything.
I moved to drop kisses along the column of her throat below her ear instead, trailing them down to her collarbone, to the plump swell of her chest. She reached behind herself, arching as she took off her bra, and tossed it aside. Her hands moved to the sides of her chest, pressing her breasts up toward my seeking tongue, and the sight of her hands on her own body nearly sent me over the edge. I covered her hands with mine and took one nipple in my mouth, my body singing as she rewarded me with a breathy moan. My thumb flicked the tight peak of the other breast as I sucked and swirled the one in my mouth, and then I switched. Tess moaned, sending another flare of excitement through me.
My hands slipped along her body, tracing lines and curves, learning every inch of her, and I slid down the bed, pulling off the lacy panties as I went. Every inch of me throbbed at the promise of her sweetness, and I slid back up her body, meeting her glazed eyes.
I leaned down, searching the floor for my pants, for the condom I kept in my wallet, and sighed with relief when I located it, Tess’s wide eyes on me the whole time, and her hands playing tantalizing rhythms across my skin.
I rolled on the condom and Tess watched, her eyes taking in every detail, and then her hands reached for me. Her tight hot hand fisted around me and she pulled me near, guiding me with my own dick like a pet she had tamed. I sucked in a sharp breath at her touch—I loved it.
She slid her hand softly over my length, a teasing touch through the latex skin of the condom, and then she dropped her other hand into her own folds, and a shot of sheer need ricocheted through me.
In a breathy voice filled with promise and vulnerability, she said, “I love you, Ryan.” And then, as she slid me into her depths, her eyes closing as I pressed home, she added, “I just can’t believe I’m in bed with Ryan fucking McDonnell.”
The laugh that came from my chest was genuine and happy, and I pulled out a bit and drove back to the hilt to make her point. I was Ryan fucking McDonnell, and I was currently fucking the woman of my dreams.
“I’m yours, Ryan fucking McDonnell,” she said, her eyes on mine, and
a smile on her beautiful face. Less certainly, she said, “Keep me forever.”
In that moment, it was the most romantic thing I’d ever heard. “I will,” I promised, knowing I’d never let her go.
Epilogue
Tess
“Tess?” Gran called from her lair, which had been reestablished in the sunny parlor at the front of the house.
I stepped in, wiping my hands on my apron. “You paged me?”
She shook her head, laughing. “I’m out of Rye. Can you ask that nice boy to pick some up today?”
“God forbid you can’t make a Manhattan at exactly five o’clock,” I chided playfully. “But yes, I’ll ask the nice boy. And his name is Ryan, Gran.”
“I know that.”
Once the party had ended and life had gone back to a semblance of normal, Gran had become grumpier than usual, and it had taken me a week or so to figure out why.
In some ways, it had been the best week of my life. Ryan fucking McDonnell really did move here. He’d bought a house by the water, and had arranged to have his things sent and he was going back soon to get his father and bring him here.
His dad wasn’t doing well, and the nurse Ryan had hired had helped him vet the community Gran had pointed him to, agreeing that it was a good fit. Mr. McDonnell would be living nearby, and Ryan had made peace with the idea of him living apart, in a place where he had round the clock care. And unlike the extremely costly community in Santa Monica that Ryan had been considering, this one was affordable.
In the meantime, he’d furnished part of the house from the local shops, and had a wonderful bedroom and a functioning kitchen set up in the new place. We’d spent long evenings on his huge deck and even longer mornings in his big bed. But Gran had seemed frailer suddenly, and we spent most of our time at the plantation house with her.
Finally, I’d sat down with her, worried. “Gran, what’s going on?”
She had shaken her head like a child, refusing to look me in the eye.
I began to guess. “You’re sad because you’re ninety and now you actually feel like you’re aging?”
A head shake.
“You’re bummed because the party’s over and Jules went home?”
Another shake.
“Is it Chessy? You miss Chessy?” Jack had called a week after he’d gotten home, and confided that he really missed his chicken friend. He’d asked if there was any chance he might drive out and adopt her, and Gran had agreed. Chessy had been moping since he’d left anyway.
“It isn’t the damned chicken,” Gran said.
“You’re acting like a child.”
An angry glare.
Ryan walked by the window outside, shirtless after a run. I stared at him, still shocked that he kept coming back, that it hadn’t all turned out to be just a really amazing, really lucid dream.
We both watched until he was out of sight, and something occurred to me.
“Wait, Gran,” I said softly. “Are you upset that Ryan stayed here?”
She lifted a shoulder, still not giving in.
“You’re not happy for me?” This seemed hard to believe. She’d told me forever to find someone to make me happy. “You’re—?” I was about to try again, but she finally opened her mouth.
“I don’t want you to leave me, okay? I just … I’m too old to live by myself.” She stared down at her lap as she said it, and I thought my strong old Gran looked closer to tears than I could ever remember seeing her. “Everyone in my life has left me, Tess. Everyone but you. My son—your handsome father—is gone. My husband has been gone for more years than I can even believe. All my friends have died.” She looked up at me then, and I saw the years on her face, saw how lonely it was to be ninety and feel alone.
“No,” I said softly. “I’ll never leave you, Gran. Never.” I pulled her into my arms, leaning forward and wrapping myself around her. We weren’t very affectionate normally, but I held her thin body close and tried to push all my love for her through that hug. “I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered.
Gran pulled back and shook herself slightly, like a cat throwing off irritating drops of water. “But that’s silly to promise, isn’t it? You’re young. You’re in love. It’s selfish of me to make you feel guilty about it.” She looked up at me then, all the sadness pushed down inside her, replaced by the ninety years of experience she’d gathered.
“Of course not. You’re my family. You’re all I’ve got besides Jules. We’re sticking together.”
“But Ryan bought that house for you.”
“He bought a house,” I confirmed. “But this is my home.”
“Maybe I’ll go live in the place Ryan’s dad is going to go.” She pushed out her lip as she said it, and I realized that maybe the situation with Ryan’s dad had made her consider her own mortality in a more real way.
“Gran,” I whispered, forcing her to look me in the eye. “You can live wherever you want. If you want to move there, to one of those cute little cottages we showed Ryan’s dad, you can. But his challenges are very different from yours, and you know that.”
“If I moved there’d be other old people around. Maybe I’d make some friends.”
I nodded, but her words sounded like she was just testing the idea out. “Whatever you want.”
Gran’s wrinkled face collapsed on itself for the briefest of moments, and a tiny sob escaped her, and then she recovered herself, sucking in a long breath and shaking her shoulders out slightly. “Tess,” she said then. “It sucks getting old.”
“Better than the alternative?” I suggested.
She winked. “It is.”
* * *
For the next few weeks, we all settled into a new normal. Ryan busied himself fixing up the house, and moved some of his stuff into my room at Gran’s. I kept a few things at Ryan’s, but I meant what I’d said to Gran. I wasn’t leaving her. And Ryan understood, making himself equally at home in our place as he was at his own new house. His father became a fixture in our lives too, Ryan picking him up and taking him home whenever he liked, and he and Gran became drinking and card-playing buddies.
Eventually, Gran allowed me to pack her a bag and show her the room we’d set up for her at Ryan’s. It was a mother-in-law suite, with a full living room and kitchen just for her.
Ryan had outfitted the living room with the very best gaming computer he could find, and Gran clapped her hands like a little girl when she saw it. “I might be okay to hang out here sometimes,” she told us. “Just for a change of scenery. And to keep Ronald company.” She smiled affectionately at Ryan’s dad, who smiled back. Ronald didn’t speak much, seemed mostly content to go along for the ride. But Gran confided that he told dirty jokes when they were alone, so it was no wonder she liked him.
Some evenings, it was just Gran and I because Ryan was in Leonardtown working on his new restaurant, and on those nights we stayed at her house.
“You think he can actually cook?” Gran asked me one night while we ate a quiet dinner on the back porch of the old house, its quiet wings stretched around us in the fading light.
“He can, and you know it,” I reminded her. Since moving, Ryan had made us multiple amazing meals, revealing a talent that went far beyond Black Forest cake.
“But a restaurant…” Gran trailed off, shaking her head.
“It’s his dream, Gran.”
“It seems a little crazy that his dream wasn’t being a movie star. How many dreams can one good looking guy get?”
I just smiled. Ryan had been so happy since he’d gotten the restaurant space set up and the management and kitchen staff hired. He was giving his name and his vision to the place, and cooking one weekend night a week, but otherwise, he was going to be hands-off for the most part.
“He can have as many dreams as he wants,” I told her. I was just glad I was one of those dreams.
* * *
We were at Ryan’s on the back porch about a month after the party, drinking Manhattans in the late summer
afternoon, when the magazine arrived.
“Here it is,” Ryan said, holding up the glossy magazine with a photo of my sister splashed across the cover in the green dress she’d worn at Gran’s party. He handed it to Gran and me, and we leaned together, looking at the cover and Ronald nodded, maybe not quite understanding but happy enough just to be with us all.
In a smaller box on the cover was a photo of Ryan, holding a microphone and looking down at a woman sitting in a rust-colored dress, staring up at him adoringly. It took me a minute to recognize myself. “I’m on the cover of a magazine!” I shrieked.
“A little credit?” he laughed. “I’m on there, too.”
“Yeah, but you’re on magazines all the time,” I said. Lately there’d been a couple spreads about his mysterious disappearance from the Hollywood social scene. His absence, the hub-bub that followed the weekend in Maryland, and the opening of his new restaurant had all boosted Ryan’s star power considerably. After a lot of wrangling, Ryan had even convinced his agent that making Maryland his home base wouldn't mean quitting the movie business, after all, there were plenty of stars who still worked and didn’t live in the madness of Los Angeles.
“Open it,” Gran said, poking me.
I flipped inside the magazine to find the feature article, and there, at the top right of the center spread, was a photo of Ryan and me, locked in an embrace and kissing. The article was titled, “Ryan McDonnell finds love with Juliet Manchester’s Little Sister.” They actually did use my name later in the piece, but the focus was on Ryan’s “regular girl” and how his life was changing to accommodate her. It was a good piece, actually, and included some beautiful shots of the house and river, and a few of the party. Gran was even in the article.
In a little box at the bottom of the page was a picture of Juliet, looking beautiful as always. The headline read, “Stronger on Her Own: Why Juliet Manchester Doesn’t Need a Man.” The piece talked about Juliet’s next projects and only mentioned her divorce briefly.
Happily Ever His: Movie Stars in Maryland, Book One Page 20
