From Good Guy To Groom (The Colorado Fosters #6)

by Tracy Madison

  “I love you, Ryan,” she whispered. “I’m about to jump, so get ready.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Whistling a Christmas carol, Ryan finished stringing the blinking white lights on the tree and, after a moment’s hesitation, went to prepare a simple meal of grilled cheese and tomato soup. He’d finish decorating the tree after he ate and, hopefully by then, he would have heard from Andi. Today—the one-year anniversary of the hospital shooting—had to be taking its toll.

  And he was worried.

  During their phone conversations over the past few days, she’d been reserved and quiet. Easy to guess the reason for her distance, but she hadn’t said a whole lot on the matter. If she was here, with him, he’d have tried harder to get her to talk. Too many miles existed between them, though, and without the ability to see her eyes and read her body language—hold her tight if the need arose—he refused to push such a sensitive, emotional topic.

  Ryan took his dinner to the living room, setting both the plate and the bowl on the coffee table. Checked his phone to see if he’d somehow missed a call or a message—he hadn’t—and let out a long sigh. Damn, he hoped she was okay. Wished he could be there instead of here.

  Or vice versa. Either would do the trick.

  Since neither was the case, and worrying wouldn’t solve the dilemma, he turned his thoughts toward Christmas and the few remaining gifts he’d yet to purchase.

  His sister’s being the top of the list. Typically, they went the funny route in the gifts they exchanged, for birthdays and Christmas. But this year, she deserved—had earned—the perfect serious and heartfelt present from him. She hadn’t allowed him to remain stuck in the muck. And while he’d have eventually gotten around to contacting Andi without Nicole’s obnoxious pestering, she had shortened the gap by, at a minimum, a month.

  But Nicole, with her stubborn attitude, muddy dog and his friggin’ best stockpot—which she’d smacked on relentlessly with a stainless steel spoon—had yanked him clean from the trenches. And he couldn’t forget the combination of his sister’s genuine compassion and creative nature, either. Or for that matter, the determination they’d both inherited from their father.

  All of the above had come into play, had served as a wake-up call. And for those reasons, he would remain forever grateful and—to Nicole’s complete delight—eternally in her debt. Since he’d written Andi that first message, they’d slowly rebuilt their foundation, one brick at a time, and in his opinion, they were gaining ground daily. As friends. As a couple. As partners.

  He told her he loved her, often, with the reassurance that he didn’t expect her to return the sentiment until—or if, he supposed—she chose to. But that his choice was to make damned sure that Andrea knew every single day that she was loved. By him. And that he was still here, waiting and ready to catch her, if she ever decided to take that leap.

  Would she? Honestly, he didn’t have a clue. To assume she would or wouldn’t boiled down to wasted energy, and he far preferred to sit in the moment and enjoy every second they spent together, whether in emails or texts or on the phone. Each one of these seconds offered a deeper, truer glimpse into the woman he loved. Was it all he wanted?

  Oh, hell, no. But until or unless she decided otherwise, it was enough. Had to be enough, because there would never be another Andi. For Ryan, she was his once-in-a-lifetime woman.

  Another glance at his phone showed no new messages, no missed calls. Try to call her again? Send her another message? No. Not yet. He’d give her a few more hours first.

  With dinner done, Ryan returned to the kitchen, rinsed off his dishes and put them in the dishwasher. Checked his phone and swallowed his concerns. She was fine. Of course, she was. Hell. As far as he knew, her family and friends had made plans for the night. She could be at the movies or soaking up to her chin in a bubble bath or...lying on her bed, crying.

  Okay. He’d send her another message, let her know of his concerns, and—

  The sharp ring of the doorbell interrupted his thoughts and, because he wasn’t expecting anyone, sent a quick bolt of shock through his system. Could be his parents, he supposed, as they had taken to dropping in a lot more often as of late. Or his sister, though he’d have known if she was visiting. And with Christmas a week away, since she’d be here then, that seemed unlikely.

  Ryan swung open the front door and...stopped breathing. Stopped thinking. His blood stopped circulating in his veins, and every muscle in his body froze. His jaw went slack.

  “Are you going to invite me in or let me freeze to death?” Andi asked, a wide smile wreathed across her face. “Because it’s snowing out here and it’s cold. And windy. After three planes and two layovers, I’m also starving, thirsty and...are you okay?” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. “Ryan? Hello? You’re not moving. At all.”

  The sound of her voice eased in, warmed his blood and revved his heart. Andrea was here, without any warning or advance notice. On the one-year anniversary of the worst moment of her life. What did that mean? It certainly meant something. Good or bad or...something.

  It had to be good. Otherwise, why deal with three planes and two layovers?

  “I’m fine,” he said, finding his volume. His hope. “Surprised to see you, is all.”

  “Wouldn’t have been any fun if I’d warned you.”

  “There is that.” Stepping aside, he grinned. “God, it’s good to see you.”

  Other than a smile, she offered no response. Just breezed right by him and was well into the living room before he’d even closed the door. Huh. Okay. All of this seemed positive. So. Damn. Positive. But he hadn’t forgotten the night she’d left—as quickly as she’d now appeared—and the devastating effect her absence had wrought. On him. His heart. His soul.

  Perhaps he wasn’t as okay with the status quo as he’d believed.

  Dragging in a steadying breath, he followed Andi’s footsteps and stopped. Frozen for the second time in a very few minutes. And, yup, his jaw weakened, his ability to take in air disappeared, and his brain halted all thought processes as he took in the scene in front of him.

  What was this woman—his woman—up to?

  Whatever it was, she obviously had some sort of plan in mind and had gotten right to it. She’d taken off her coat, had draped it over the back a chair, and was presently arranging two of the sofa cushions—side by side—on the kitchen floor, right in front of the center island. Standing, she tossed her glorious hair behind her shoulders and grinned. Again, widely. Happily.

  Behind that smile, though, lurked an interesting mix of nerves, excitement and humor. The three ignited the same in Ryan, along with his curiosity. His pleasure in...her. Lord, he loved this woman. To the stars and the moon and back, and yeah, back again.

  “Ah...Andi?” he asked, unable to help himself. “Whatcha doing?”

  She tugged at the waistband of her forest-green sweater, which had ridden up just enough to glimpse a few delectable inches of bare skin, and shrugged. “You’ll see. I’m almost ready.”

  Ready? Hmm. “I don’t know what you’re up to,” he said, “but you’re amazing.”

  “I hope you still feel that way in a few minutes.”

  “I will.” Without doubt. Sticking his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans, he leaned against the wall, intent on watching—just watching—the beauty of Andrea in motion.

  She went to the kitchen island, her movements fluid and, in a systematic fashion, emptied its surface. The bowl of fruit, the cutting board, the folded dish towel and the knife block found a new home on the counter right next to the sink. “Okay,” she murmured. “That should do it.”

  “Should do what, exactly?” he asked. “I have to admit to some confusion.”

  “Good,” she said with a cute little smirk. Crossing to him, she grasped his hands and tugged. Sure, he’d pl
ay along. With anything this woman had in mind. They walked a few feet, in tandem, and she positioned him behind the sofa cushions. “Stand here. Don’t argue.”

  “Wouldn’t think of it, baby. I’m yours. To do with as you will.”

  She walked to the island, kicked off her shoes. Before Ryan could so much as blink, she was sitting on the surface of the island. Another second later, she’d pulled herself to her feet and stood taller than him by a decent margin. And, Lord, he knew what she was doing. Surprising, really, that it had taken him this long to catch on. Yup. This woman? His. All his.

  Damn lucky is what he was. The most fortunate man on earth.

  Brown eyes—soft and serious and warm—met his. “This is what’s happening,” she said, her tone steady. Sure. “You’re going to open your arms and I’m going to jump. If you catch me, well...then, I’m yours—” her voice wavered, just a little “—forever. You good with that?”

  “Yes, baby. Absolutely and without any doubt whatsoever.” And while he had every intention in the world of catching her, holding her as close to him as possible, and then kissing those lips of hers for a very, very long time, he had to ask, “What if I don’t catch you? You must have some doubts or you wouldn’t have bothered with the soft, cushiony landing.”

  “Oh,” she said with a quirk of an eyebrow, “that’s simple. If you don’t catch me, then you’re mine. Forever. And every single day, for the rest of our lives, I get to remind you that you let me fall. But that I—the wondrous woman I am—still chose you over anyone else.”

  “I see,” he said, somehow loving her more by the second. “Every day, huh?”

  “Maybe more than once a day, even. I think that’s fair, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, joining in on the teasing. “Could we renegotiate, possibly?”

  “Uh-uh.” Angling her arms across her chest, she said, “This deal is firm.”

  “Alrighty, then. I agree.” Slowly, he lifted his arms and opened them wide. Hoping that in his eyes she could see the love he had for her, he said, “I’m right here, baby.”

  One blink. Two. “Forever, Ryan. I’m not joking with this.”

  “Me, either. Trust in that. Trust in us and just...jump.”

  A third blink, a quick nod and, bending her knees slightly, Andi jumped. Toward him and his waiting arms instead of bolting and running in the opposite direction. He stepped forward and, as her body crashed into his, he wrapped his arms around her, bringing her to his chest. Tight. Secure. Her hair, soft and sensuous, brushed against his jaw, and her scent—cinnamon instead of coconut—rushed his senses. She laughed, loudly and joyously, and for a second, he thought they were home free. But then, in trying to keep his balance, his foot slid. They tumbled.

  And they fell together, landing in a heap with him on the floor and her body plastered on top of his. Again, their gazes met, and in Andi’s eyes he saw laughter and love and an entire lifetime of both ahead of them. “You let me fall,” she said softly. “How could you do that?”

  “We fell. But I caught you first,” he said, lost in her scent, the warmth—the reality—of her. Of a moment he would never, ever forget. “And I’d like to point out that I am still holding you. I never let go, baby. I never will. I promise you this, Andrea.”

  Time stilled for one beat, two beats, three beats of his heart. “I love you, Ryan Bradshaw,” Andrea said quietly. Reverently. “I’m sorry—so, so sorry—that it took me this long to say these words, to embrace what we have—what we’ve always had—but I’m here now. Here forever. I will never run from you again.”

  The words weren’t necessary. Not anymore, but he couldn’t deny the relief that hearing them brought. Or the certainty in her voice. He’d known the truth so early on—that from cell to bone to blood, this woman belonged with him, to him, and he belonged with her, to her—and he’d never doubted this. Not once. But yes, that she now knew the same, and believed and was willing to risk it all for him, for them and their future meant...everything.

  Everything in the world that mattered, anyway.

  “I love you, too, Andrea Caputo. Fiercely. Devotedly. Completely. With all I am today, all I’ll be tomorrow. More than you’ll ever know. More than I can ever fully express.” Emotion, strong and pressing, deepened his voice. “Thank you, baby, for taking that jump.”

  “You’re welcome.” She grazed his jaw with soft, sweet kisses. “Thank you, too. For never giving up or growing impatient. For catching me and holding on tight.”

  Feathering his fingers into her hair, he drew her closer and kissed her with all of the hunger, desire and passion he had for this woman and only this woman. Contentment stole in, riding along with the fire in his blood, hand in hand, that he would never again have to go a day in his life without Andrea by his side. They were a team. Meant for each other.

  And, really, what else could a man want but his other half?

  Well. One thing, maybe. “Baby?” he said, breaking the kiss. “I have this...let’s call it a strong desire to pick you up and haul you to my bed. Now, as in this minute. Where I intend on having my way with you...with every inch of you. I’m hoping you’re good with that prospect?”

  A sultry, sexy, hot laugh emerged. “Sure, but only if I then get to have my way with...ah...every inch of your body. I mean, that’s only fair, right?”

  “I’d say that’s more than fair.” And with that, he lifted the love of his life, the woman who called to his heart, soul, head and body, into his arms and carried her to his bed.

  Where he planned on keeping both of them busy for a good, long while.

  Epilogue

  Today, in less than twenty minutes, Andrea Caputo would walk down the aisle and become Ryan’s wife. Incredible to think that this time a year ago—last October—she had been ensconced at home in Rhode Island, still attempting to locate that seed of peace, to understand why she couldn’t voice the powerful love she had for her now soon-to-be husband.

  Incredible, too, what had happened in the trauma center when she’d finally cried. Finally was able to fully let go of the past, embrace the present and catch a glimpse of the beautiful future that awaited her with Ryan. She’d loved him long before that day, but she couldn’t express that to him or to herself without first confronting what she so yearned to change.

  Peace had entered her soul as she’d cried and, with that peace, her ability to go to Ryan and take that leap into his waiting arms. Odd, really, how the brain and heart functioned. Sometimes in tandem and other times, in seeming discord. Yet...they were inexorably connected. One had to be in accord with the other in order to feel whole.

  Not so different, really, than what she had with Ryan. They were okay on their own, could possibly even reach great, but together? They were magnificent.

  The man she loved had surprised her with a romantic proposal at their hot spring last June, on the anniversary of when they’d met. Naturally, she’d said yes before he’d even gotten the complete question out of his mouth. How could she not?

  Ryan was...the sun in her life, and she...his.

  “It’s time,” Andrea’s mother, Colleen, said from where she stood behind Andi. She’d been fussing with Andrea’s hair for the past fifteen minutes. “And darling, you look so beautiful. Radiant and excited and in love. Just how a bride is supposed to on her wedding day.”

  “Thank you, Mom.” Wow. This was really happening. Carefully, Andrea pivoted in a circle, watching her reflection in the mirror. The pale golden ankle-length skirt, a frothy concoction of layers—reminding her of butterfly wings—rippled and fluttered around her legs, making her feel...glorious. And, okay, a lot like the sun. The bodice of the gown had a sweetheart neckline, and there the fabric was a soft, silky white. �
��I...guess I’m ready.”

  Together, they left Andrea’s bedroom and proceeded through her aunt and uncle’s home to the kitchen, where her father, Ken, and her sister, Audrey, waited. The marriage ceremony was to take place in the backyard, among the trees and their changing colors. Andi would’ve loved to marry Ryan at their hot spring, but there simply wasn’t enough room. This had seemed the perfect alternative. The place Ryan had first made her laugh.

  “Told you, Dad,” Audrey said, smiling. “She’s an angel today.”

  Ken Caputo placed his hand on his heart and, with damp eyes, said, “Look at you, sweetheart, all grown up and...so beautiful. How’d this happen so fast? I swear, you were three years old just yesterday, begging for shoulder rides and ice-cream sundaes.”

  “Aw, Dad. Don’t make me cry!” Standing on her tiptoes, Andrea kissed her father on the cheek and then, whispering into his ear, said, “You’re the first man I ever loved, Daddy. You’re the benchmark. You showed me what to look for in the man I chose to marry.”

  “Who is making whom cry now?” he asked, his voice suspiciously thick. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and then tucked her arm into his. “Everything is set, everyone is here. And I have to say, your groom? He’s waiting on eggshells. Ready to do this, pumpkin?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, her heart beating in a steady, comforting and confident rhythm. “Very much so. I don’t want to keep anyone, but especially Ryan, waiting.”

  “Then let’s do this.”

  Audrey handed Andi her bouquet of white roses and squeezed her hand. Then, following Audrey—Andi’s only bridesmaid—they exited the house through the back door and started their path toward the white aisle runner that would lead her to Ryan. And, oh, the setting for the ceremony was lovely. Modest, yes, but...so very perfect in so many ways.