White, gooey and wholly unappetizing mush.
The final straw? In his zeal to get the chile rellenos in the oven, he’d suddenly turned into a klutz and slipped—on absolutely nothing—and the baking dish had flown from his grip and landed upside down on the floor. Yup. That had happened.
Basically, he was up the proverbial creek without a paddle. And his boat? Shattered. Into a million pieces and, at this precise second, was floating away in a pile of useless debris.
Ryan combed his fingers through his hair, tension and frustration percolating in his gut. Why did he not have a backup plan? He always had a backup plan. Perhaps it wasn’t too late. Praying for a friggin’ miracle, he opened his fridge and scanned the contents. Did the same with the freezer and the cupboards and groaned. Loudly. Twice.
Unless Andi had a serious love for boxed mac-and-cheese, mediocre frozen pizza, cereal with flavored marshmallows or peanut butter and strawberry jam—well, his mother had made the jam, and it rocked—sandwiches, he had...zilch. And that just shouldn’t be the case.
Everything about tonight ranked high on the important scale.
He meant to tell Andi the scope of his feelings, his hopes, and that if she wasn’t quite in the same place yet, that was fine. That he would wait as long as necessary, that they could visit each other throughout the year, and perhaps by next summer they’d be ready to take another step. One that involved a shared future. All he needed from her was a willingness to try.
In addition, he planned on telling her about his relationship with Leah. And he wanted to know more about the guy she’d been dating last December. If she had ended their relationship or if he had, and in either case, why had that decision been made? What had gone wrong? Did she still have feelings for this man? If so, how strong were they?
Hell, yeah, tonight was critical.
A glance at the clock stated Ryan had ten minutes, maybe, to do whatever he was going to do. Confidence flagging but adrenaline pumping, he decided that his best course of action was to quickly clean the kitchen, spray a ton of air freshener and, when Andi arrived, take her food shopping. For steaks. Garlic bread. And salad makings. Pretend that had been his plan all along.
Lame? Without doubt, but really, he had very few choices at his disposal.
First things first. Clean the most obvious mess. Ryan dropped to his knees and gathered the splattered peppers into his hands, dumped them into the baking dish and tried to scrape up as much of the sauce using the same method. Hands coated and dripping, and mentally adding “change clothes” to his to-do list, he crawl-walked to the trash and emptied the contents. Stood. And heard a sharp intake of breath followed by...a barely muffled laugh.
Wincing, now remembering he’d told Andi to let herself in, he pivoted on his heel—almost slipped again—and for a blissful second, forgot about his two hours of failure, the god-awful mess surrounding him and his food-stained clothes. He forgot everything.
Because, Lord, this woman? Breathtaking. Heartbreakingly so.
Auburn hair, long and loose and sexy. Sultry. She wore the same sundress she had at her family’s barbecue, the first week they’d met. That lovely, almost whispery in the way it floated around her legs, turquoise-and-white tie-dyed dress that brought out the fire in her hair and the creaminess of her complexion. The barest, perfect hint of cleavage, smoky bedroom eyes and soft, kissable lips completed the picture. Yes. Breathtaking.
In every possible way, this woman pulled at his senses.
And all Ryan could think of was slowly removing that dress, kissing every inch of her milky skin and making her his. In all ways. His. He hoped she saw him as hers. Or at least, saw that potential. Now, disastrous dinner or not, he had to find out. He had to take the risk and offer Andi his heart, show her the future he felt in his bones was meant to be theirs and be ready to accept whatever might come after. Everything he wanted or...life without Andi.
“Ah. Andi,” he managed to say. “You’re here.”
“I am.” She blinked, attempted to smother another laugh and failed. One arm, lightly freckled from the sun, held what appeared to be a cake container against her hip. She stepped forward, deposited the container on the counter, sniffed the air and said, “What... Hmm, what’s happening here, Ryan? Looks as if you’ve had a battle with...your entire kitchen. And lost.”
“That about sums it up,” he said, putting the baking dish in the sink and washing his sauce-covered hands. He hated her seeing him like this. If he couldn’t prepare her a meal, why would she trust her heart to him? Sucking back the sigh clogging his throat, he faced her again and put on a smile. “The goal here was to impress you with my culinary skills. As you can see, that isn’t happening tonight. But this failure isn’t the norm. I actually can cook.”
Her gaze left Ryan’s as she scanned the area. Her lips twitched and she gave her head a slight shake. Returning her attention to him, she said, “Won’t take long to put everything to rights. Do you have an apron? Or if not, an oversize T-shirt I can borrow?”
“You’re not cleaning up my mess,” Ryan said. “I’ll get you some wine. You can sit on the porch, enjoy the scenery, while I...deal with this and change clothes. Then, we’ll figure out the rest of the night. We can order in or run to the store and grab a few steaks to toss on the grill.”
“Oh, no, you don’t get to do that, buddy,” she said, leveraging her hands on her hips. “This is the very first time since I’ve known you that I can actually offer assistance to you. And guess what? You do not get to take that away from me, from us. Don’t even try.”
Narrowing his eyes, Ryan took in her stance, the determined expression coating her features, and, while it shouldn’t have been possible, he fell even more in love. Did she have the slightest inkling of her effect on him? Of how her refusal to walk away from something as simple as a ruined meal and a messy kitchen showed him so much of who she was?
No. He wouldn’t take this away from either one of them.
“Okay, you win,” he said. “I’ll get you an apron. We’ll work together to put this night back on course. Dinner. Some conversation. And—” he nodded toward the container she’d brought “—is that cake? I have an incredibly soft spot for...cake.”
“It’s my specialty. Dark chocolate stout cake with fudge layers and espresso buttercream icing,” she said, grinning. “I hope you’re a chocolate fan, because this cake? It’s...decadent.”
“Baby, I am most definitely a fan,” he said, holding her gaze. Wishing he was holding her. “I’m talking about you, by the way. But the cake sounds fantastic, as well.”
Long lashes lowered in a blink. That rosy glow warmed her cheeks, and she dragged her bottom lip into her mouth. A little action, unknown on her part he was sure, that served to yank hard on his desire. She sighed softly, saying, “What am I going to do with you?”
“Whatever you want to do with me,” he said, choosing to stick somewhere in between serious and light. “Nothing’s changed there, Andi. Your call. Just like always.”
Or you could love me, he thought, and let me love you.
Naturally, he didn’t dare speak those words. Too much else needed to be said first. They’d get there, before this evening came to an end, and when they did, he wanted the moment to be right. Romantic and calm and...all about them and not his disastrous attempts at dinner preparation while standing in the middle of his chaotic and untidy kitchen.
On that front, he wouldn’t compromise.
* * *
I love you, Ryan.
The declaration sat right there on the tip of her tongue, almost begging to be said. As well, the emotion existed in her heart, strong and evocative and real. Seemingly so, anyway. Yet, she wasn’t fully there, couldn’t quite get herself to commit voice to those three words...to all they meant and all they promised. Until she could without doubt, they’d live inside.
But, wow, walking into Ryan’s house and finding him in such a state of...disarray, had broken at least one wall. Her walks-in-sunlight man was not without fault, which she’d obviously known. No one was perfect. But to see the proof of that, to be able to step in and help him—even with something as trivial as straightening his kitchen—had been a gift.
She’d surprised him. The evidence of that had shown in his expression, his voice, and that too served as a gift. She liked being there for him. Maybe, probably, just as much as he enjoyed being there for her. A partnership of sorts. Small but there. Real, too.
After they’d finished with the kitchen and Ryan had changed his clothes, they drove to the store to buy what he deemed they needed for dinner. Andi would’ve been fine with the macaroni and cheese or the frozen pizza, but no...he’d flat out refused. They’d cooked together, though, and that had proved a pleasure. Fun and relaxing and easy.
So easy. Again, as if they’d always known each other.
Over dinner, he’d asked questions about her relationship with Greg...why had the relationship ended and who had done the ending? She’d told Ryan the truth: she and Greg had dated for close to a year before the shooting, and he wasn’t invested enough to stick when she was at her weakest. That was fine. She’d preferred knowing that early on, and as it turned out, she hadn’t been invested enough to care all that much when he left. Then and today.
Now, since the evening had cooled quite a bit, Ryan had a fire burning brightly in the fireplace and they were on his sofa, side by side, eating dessert, drinking coffee and engaging in mostly meaningless small talk. She had the desire to lean in, kiss him and run her fingers through his hair, pull him as tight to her as humanly possible and...kiss him more, harder, longer.
But, strangely and wholly unlike the Ryan she knew, he seemed reserved. Contemplative. As if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and the most complex mathematical figures were dancing in his brain. He might want to have a specific conversation with her, or he could be worried about something or someone that didn’t involve her or their relationship.
Or perhaps, he was just tired.
Regardless, unless he reached for her, she’d control her impulse to kiss him. Difficult? Oh, yeah. Maybe more so tonight than ever before. Partially due to those three little—no, huge—words echoing in her head. Partially due to the nervous, frustrated state she’d found him in earlier and her resounding need to be there for him, to bring him comfort. Happiness.
And, of course, it went without saying how freaking sexy a man he was. His strong jaw. His outlaw smile. His muscular arms and long, firm legs. His ability to see straight through her, past skin and bone and shields and walls, to locate the person she kept hidden. Oh. The way he wore a pair of jeans and the sound of his laugh. The scent of his skin.
Earlier, before he’d changed out of his food-splattered clothes, she still had that roar of recognition, want and desire swim into and heat her blood. That told her a lot. Ryan—the man he was, inside and out—resonated with her deeply. Intensely. On all levels.
I love you, Ryan.
Andrea swallowed the sigh of yearning with the last bite of her cake. Leaning forward, she set her plate on the coffee table, on top of Ryan’s empty one, and said, “Well. Maybe we didn’t have the evening you thought we would, but I have loved every second.”
“Me, too,” Ryan said. “Thank you for...being you. And jumping in to lend a hand.”
“You’re welcome.” Should she leave? Was the evening over? She wasn’t ready to go, didn’t want the night to come to an end, but without some type of a hint from Ryan, she didn’t know what to do. Why not just ask? “Are you ready for me to take off?”
Lines creased his forehead. “What? No, Andi.” He reached for and clasped her hand. “I am absolutely, unequivocally not ready for you to take off. Where did you get that idea?”
“It wasn’t an idea, exactly,” she said, enjoying his touch. “I just wanted to know.”
“Well, now you do.”
“Now I do.” Easing herself a few inches in his direction, she ran her other hand down his arm and delighted when his muscles tensed below her touch. “It seems so strange to think we’ve only known each other since June,” she said. “I mean, how is that possible?”
“I wondered the same at first, but then decided the whys weren’t important. To me,” he said, rubbing his thumb in small circles in the palm of her hand, “the fact we feel this way at all is what counts. What we should respect and value and pay attention to.”
“Hmm. I like how you put together words. You always sound so wise.”
“Yeah?” A throaty rumble of laughter rolled from his chest. “Thank you. I’m not sure I agree but can accept your take without putting up an argument.”
“Good,” she said, happy to be snuggled close to Ryan. “Because you would lose.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” A long sigh emerged. “We need to have a conversation. Several, in fact, but one should come before the other. And I’m not entirely positive how you’ll take this.”
“Oh?” On the edge of bliss one second and nervous—almost scared—the next. “Go on, then.”
“We talked about Greg. I need to tell you about Leah.”
“Leah?” Adding two plus two, Andi said, “A past girlfriend?”
“An ex-fiancée, actually.” Ryan spoke slowly, methodically. “She was my client initially, for close to a year. We started dating about three months after the professional relationship ended. And yes, I had some concerns. I chose to trust in the positive.”
Whoa. Ryan had loved another woman enough to propose? And that woman—Leah—had been his client? Oh, Lord. This wasn’t good. None of it felt good. Or okay. Or manageable.
Ripples of panic she hadn’t experienced in...weeks now, pushed at the fringes. Andi breathed. Planted her feet on the carpet and breathed again. She was fine. She was shocked, yes. Concerned, yes. But fine. When her affirmations became reality, she found her voice. “What happened? Why did the engagement end?”
Pivoting toward her, Ryan said, “She realized that while she loved me, she wasn’t in love with me. This was about three years ago. Shortly after the breakup, I moved here.”
Despite the nausea bouncing around in Andi’s stomach, she also felt for this prior version of Ryan. For the guy who had lost the woman he’d planned on making his wife. “I’m sorry. That had to have been difficult, for both of you.”
“It hurt then, as it should have.” He shrugged, as if shaking off a fly. “Broken hearts are painful, for everyone involved. But she made the right decision, Andi. We’ve stayed in contact, sporadically, ever since. Mostly via Facebook, but a phone call every now and again.”
“I see.” He’d fallen in love with a client. Now he was in a relationship with her. A pattern or coincidence? “And? Is there more?”
“Earlier this summer, she wrote me,” Ryan said, in that same slow and methodical manner. “Said she might have made a mistake in ending our engagement, and wanted to know if I’d be willing to talk about the possibility of giving us another chance, to see if those feelings could be rekindled.”
Oh, yeah, this just got better and better. Andi’s heart dropped to her toes and sweat beaded on the back of her neck. On the heels of that, the fierce need to protect Ryan roared to life. Going with the latter emotion, she said, “Really? Three years after calling it quits, she suddenly has a change of heart? Again, I guess?”
“She was lonely, I think. Looking for a connection. I explained we had both moved on and that I had no wish to give us another shot. That I believe her original decision was correct.”
“Okay. Thank you for telling me.”
“Don’t do that, Andi,” Ryan said, cupping her cheeks with his hands. His touch was warm and solid. Secure. “Don’t back away. What are you thinking?
What’s in that head of yours?”
“The truth?” Lord, what did she think? “I’m worried, I guess, that this is a pattern. Have you had relationships with other clients in addition to Leah and...me?”
“No. I haven’t. And, come on, you were my client for a matter of weeks, not close to a year.” Ryan stroked his fingers into her hair. “You can’t really compare the two, sweetheart.”
“But this...what happened with Leah is exactly what I’m afraid of, and now, there’s more to worry about.” Shivering, Andi wrapped her arms around herself. “In addition to my side, I have to wonder about your side. If...everything between us has any basis in reality. In authenticity. Or if we’re both fooling ourselves for different reasons.”
“I can’t speak for you, but...listen to me, Andi. Just listen, okay?”
Tears that still hadn’t escaped their prison except in her imaginary conversation with Hugh built behind her eyes. Heavy and uncomfortable. Painful. “Okay.”
“I like your mind,” Ryan said, speaking quickly. His voice was a blend of strength and surety, determination and emotion. “It’s smart and funny and polite and kind. I like your heart. It’s filled with grace and care and warmth and passion. I adore your beautiful and pure soul.”
She might have, probably would have, argued with his poetic and angelic description—because really, she was an average woman with a normal heart and soul—but the facts of his relationship with Leah, her own fears and, yes, the powerful response her heart insisted on having due to that very same description left her...mute. Vulnerable. Confused.
So. Freaking. Confused.
“My mind is drawn to your mind. My heart to your heart. My soul to your soul. But, baby,” Ryan said, his mouth near her ear, “it doesn’t stop there. Because my body is also drawn to your body. Your vibrant, wild hair. The delicious length of your legs. The curve of your hips and, Lord, that ridiculously sexy mouth. You call to me, in every possible way, and that was not the case with Leah. Never has been with anyone else. Only you.”
From Good Guy To Groom (The Colorado Fosters #6) Page 16
