“Hmm?” I glanced up at him with the question in my eyes.
“The only way you’re getting the answer to your question is if you have dinner with me.”
I blinked. “What makes you think I’m even free tonight?” I was free, of course, as I was most nights. And already staying at his house. “Like, uh, I might have work to do or studies to read or…”
I made the mistake of looking up and entangling my gaze with his intense stare. My throat clamped, and it was hard to breathe. Those cold blue eyes impaled me, did not allow me to look away. I blinked. “I…I’m not sure how wise this is.”
His mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. “Wisdom has nothing to do with it.”
I swallowed that lump of fear or anticipation or whatever it was in there that was clogging up my cognitive abilities. Then I nodded.
“Say yes, Gray.” His voice had an odd tone to it—almost a desperation.
I sighed, giving in to him—and to myself. A surge of heat rose in my chest, and I smiled. “Yes, Gray.”
The car took us directly to his house early that afternoon. And, though we had that predetermined “dinner date,” we went our separate ways that afternoon. I to my little desk at the cubby not far from his office, and him to work on the latest biography pages with his assistant.
There was work to catch up on, particularly my follow-up study work. I had been serving as an assistant team member on a Mars Analog study where volunteers had agreed to live in a small habitat in the desert for months in simulation of a Mars mission. They were monitored closely by a psychological team and sent emotional wellness questionnaires regularly. I was working on compiling the results of the latest questionnaire for the head of our team.
But in the early afternoon, I took a break to grab a bottle of water and an apple out of the fridge. I didn’t even realize Ryan had taken a break too, until I heard someone pacing around the living room nearby, ending a phone call.
When I realized I’d become an unwitting eavesdropper, I turned to go—until I heard the name of the recipient of his next phone call.
“Hey, Suz. Yeah, I just got back from Houston this morning and—yeah, I’m doing great, thanks.” He cleared his throat. “I know we were supposed to get together and train later this afternoon, but I—oh yeah, you saw that? Wow on TMZ? Huh.” He chuckled. “I guess I’m famous.”
There was another long pause where he was listening, and I was frozen in my spot. If I moved now, he’d probably hear me. I could still hear him pacing over there. I didn’t even dare bite into my apple for fear it would crunch too loud and give me away. Yeah, me of the loud clickity heartbeat was trying to be a stealth ninja while eavesdropping on Ryan and his trainer-with-benefits.
“Me and Keely? Well it’s complicated. But obviously you and I—we can’t see each other anymore professionally. And my schedule’s tight leading up to this launch.”
Another long pause and I was riveted, wishing I could somehow hear the other end of the conversation. I was simultaneously relieved that he was letting her go and revolted that he was doing it in such a callous way. I guess there could have been worse ways. Text message or sticky note. Carrier pigeon? Wall graffiti?
“I think you’re talented, but for obvious reasons…” Another pause. “You’re awesome, Suz. Thanks. Yeah, sure. I’ll keep in touch. Text me whenever.”
Text me whenever. Ugh. Gross. He was gross. Men were gross. He might as well have said, Text me when I’m not seeing her anymore so we can start screwing again. Blech.
Before I could so much as move, however, he rounded the corner, having finished his phone call, and caught me right in the middle of my not-so-covert spy op—an untouched green apple in one hand and a chilled bottle of water in the other. And my eyes as wide as the kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
To cover for myself—since it was too late to turn tail and run—I bit a huge chunk out of my apple and started to chew.
Ryan frowned, probably wondering how much of that I’d heard. He apparently decided I’d heard it all because he held up his phone before stuffing it back into his pocket. “Guess I’m on the hunt for a new trainer. You know, the rules and all.”
My brow twitched, and once I swallowed my mouthful of apple, I replied, “Maybe you can manage to stay out of the next one’s pants. Or better yet, hire a guy.”
His mouth thinned and his eyes chilled, unamused. I didn’t care. I probably should be overjoyed by the fact that there was no risk of having to overhear him pound some chick into next week. But for some reason, I wasn’t.
Maybe it was the casual way in which he’d let her go. I hope he gets blue balls because I sure as hell am not going to fill the trainer’s shoes.
And that’s what turned my stomach most of all—the possibility that he’d been planning for me to, because of last night.
Ugh. I was so stupid. Of course, that’s what he thought. That’s what the whole “dinner tonight” thing was about. He was going to continue with whatever he started last night and try to get me in the sack.
Hell to the no.
The ease with which he’d dismissed Suzanne proved to me, above all else, what type of man he was. He would never take a romantic connection seriously. It was all just sex to him.
And that type of man was not for me.
He clenched his jaw. “I don’t make a habit of that, FYI.”
“That’s not what I saw in the tabloids.”
He rolled his eyes. “If you believe everything the media prints, then you’re not as smart as you think you are.”
Well, he had a point there. He moved up to the counter, resting a hand on its surface. I bit into my apple again, wondering how to end this conversation so I could crawl back to my room and be invisible.
“I’m not saying I’m a monk but, damn. That thing with Suz didn’t even go that long. It was only twice. It’s not like—”
I held up a hand to cut him off. “I don’t need the full details about your sex life. Your love ’em and leave ’em style says it all.”
He owed me nothing, in fact. We’d only shared some passionate kisses and a heart-to-heart talk. And he’d been drunk for most of it.
He straightened, folding his hands over his chest. “Are you done convincing yourself I’m the last man on earth you’d ever end up with?”
“No danger of you ending up with anyone, right?”
“Maybe the right one hasn’t come along yet.”
I blinked. “Isn’t that what all the women hope? That they are the right one?”
He approached me and stopped when we were standing close to each other. “I don’t know, Gray. Do they?”
I had no idea what to say to that. My face burned. I bit into my apple again, but before I could lower it while I chewed, Ryan reached out and caught my wrist, wrapping his large hand around it. He pulled my hand up toward his mouth and sank his teeth into that apple, never taking his eyes from mine.
When he pulled away, he was chewing his bite with a smile. I swallowed, aware of his nearness and—though I was annoyed with him—that ever-present, overwhelming attraction that never went away.
I stiffened, trying to regain some control. “I’m not eating dinner with you tonight.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, you are.”
“I think I’ll go grab an In-N-Out burger. Maybe a shake. Hole up in my room.”
“No, you’re having pizza with me on the deck.” I frowned. Pizza did sound good. But ugh.
I drew back, but he was still holding my wrist, his grasp tightened, and I didn’t struggle against his hold.
I lifted my chin and locked my eyes on his, affecting a confidence I didn’t completely feel. “I’m not going to be that trainer’s replacement in your bed, Ryan.”
He didn’t seem surprised one bit by my declaration, nor did he seem affronted by it. Instead, he shook his head. “I’m not going to ask you to, Gray.”
I took another deep breath and came right out with the question that
had been nagging me since the call. “Did you send her away because you thought that I…that you and I…?”
“Nope. I had several reasons to end it. Your rule being one of them. The thing with Keely being another.”
I took a breath and then let it go, oddly wondering why this news didn’t make me feel better. “Well…okay then.”
His grip on my wrist loosened slightly. “Okay then,” he repeated, searching my face.
“Then what’s all this about eating dinner together?”
He smiled. “You’re stuck here, remember? We might as well try to get along. Don’t worry. I won’t compromise your virtue or anything like that.”
If you only knew. I was afraid he’d compromise my heart. But I had the power to say no, to pull away. I had the power to keep my distance while still trying to help him, didn’t I?
It was a decision. And I made it then and there.
“Fine, I’ll have some pizza with you under three conditions. You honestly and thoroughly answer my question like you promised. And there’s no alcohol. And no kissing.”
If he had an opinion on those conditions, he did not show it. Instead, he nodded, smiled again, and then left the kitchen to go back to his office and…
Did I hear whistling in the hallway?
Hours later, we sat by the poolside, the lights ablaze as the water reflected shivering light all over our faces. I had a can of Dr. Pepper in my hand, and Ryan was finishing up his third water bottle. He never drank soda, he said, when I’d offered him a can from the six-pack that had accompanied the pizza.
Between us was an open, grease-stained box of some of the best New York-style pizza I’d ever had—a chewy crust and heaps of cheese, exactly the way I liked it. Pepperoni on his half, black olives and mushrooms on mine.
My shoes were off, and I had one foot trailing in the water, kicking up a small splash every so often as we talked. The ice from our conversation this afternoon had quickly melted once we had food in front of us.
“My first time, I took up some T-shirts, coins, and other collectibles for friends and charities who had asked me as a favor. It’s not that easy because the Russians only give us a kilo’s worth of personal items we can bring, and the capsule is not roomy.”
I nibbled on my last bit of pizza crust and watched him raptly. Whenever he talked about his job, his face became animated, his hand gestures more dramatic, engaged. It didn’t take a rocket scientist—or even a psychologist—to realize how much he loved it.
“One thing my friends and instructors loved most was when I took a photo of them up with me and took a picture of myself with their photo on orbit. Then gave the picture back to them when I got home. The second time, I did that mostly. Took a shit-ton of pictures.”
“You use a camera well if those photos you have on the walls inside are any indication.”
He took the last bite of his third piece of pizza, chewing and swallowing before answering. “I took digital photography classes. The other astronauts teased me about it, but that’s because they were jealous as fuck that I didn’t have to learn Russian because I already spoke it. I mean, I had to learn how to read and write it, but I’d learned to speak it as a kid. Mom and I lived with my grandparents when Dad was gone for his job. And later, after the divorce. They all spoke Russian at home.”
I frowned at him. “So the other astronauts were mad because you already spoke the language?”
He rolled his eyes. “They bellyached constantly about learning Russian. You can teach an astronaut any skill—we have to be jack-of-all-trades. We learn to perform minor medical procedures, major repair jobs, how to do complex science experiments. But learning the language is the one thing that stumps most of them, as brilliant as they all are.”
I looked at him. “Teach me how to say something in Russian.”
“Ya ochen krasivaya.”
I repeated it a few times, and he corrected me on my pronunciation. Once I’d gotten it down, I continued to repeat so that I’d remember it. “What does that mean?”
He smiled but didn’t answer. I gave him a suspicious look. “You taught me how to say a bad word, didn’t you?”
He shook his head and laughed. “Nope. I swear I didn’t.”
I repeated it a few more times. And he responded. “Da, ochen verno. Very true.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “But you’re still not going to tell me what it means.”
He smiled slyly. “Nope.”
“Then how about you answer my question from last night?”
He put down his last crust—after having eaten a whopping four pieces—and brushed the crumbs off his fingers. “Okay. I guess I’ve hedged enough about that, haven’t I?” He paused, taking a deep breath as if collecting his thoughts. “You asked me if I want to fly for my own reasons or because of the promise I made to Xander.”
I nodded, and as it appeared we’d finished gnawing on the pizza, I flipped the box closed and leaned back on my hands to let him continue.
His gaze drifted out over the pool, and he shifted how he was sitting, unexpectedly restless. “There was a reason I put you off last night—well, several reasons.” He laughed as if to himself. “But the answer is…it’s complicated.”
Therapist prompts. I had to remember to limit my responses to “I’m listening” cues and not come at him with more intrusive questions that would cloud the issue or derail him. So I made a noncommittal, “Mm-hmm.”
“Xander, Karen, and I were friends since our first year at the Academy.”
“Karen’s also in the Navy?”
“She was. She left about five years ago when AJ—her and Xander’s son—was born.”
I nodded, wordlessly urging him to continue.
“Xander’s goal from day one was NASA. Ever since he was a little kid. So he started out as a pilot in the Navy.”
“What was your goal then?” I was not above noticing that he was answering this question by constantly referring to Xander instead of himself, so I did what I could to redirect him while still being a good listener.
His eyes locked on mine. “I wanted to be a SEAL. Like my dad.” From his bio, I remembered that his dad had been killed in action when Ryan was fifteen. Also, that picture of them together. Perhaps he idealized his dad in much the same way he did with Xander.
Maybe there was something there.
Ryan shifted again, then reached over and pulled a few plush water-resistant cushions off a nearby lounge, handed one to me and laid the other next to him on the ground, then leaned on it. I thanked him. The ground was getting hard, but the conversation was fascinating.
“So tell me how you went from being a SEAL to an astronaut.”
He laughed. “I’m not even the first frogman to do that, believe it or not.” He glanced out over the shimmering pool again. I studied his face, and he seemed to realize that, keeping his features completely composed. Finally, he took a long deep breath and let it go. “Xander and I got drunk one night, and he dared me to apply when he did for the next astronaut class.”
I blinked. “You became an astronaut because of a dare?”
He smirked. “Yeah, it sounds pretty ludicrous.” He shrugged. “Actually, once I put in the papers and worked my way through the interview process, I got attached to the idea of working for NASA. Then I got picked and he didn’t, but he was beyond thrilled for me. He was the best of me—the best of all of us.” His voice faded out.
I blinked. Ryan wasn’t so good at hiding his feelings this time, his jaw flexed and tightened, a haunted look passing through his eyes. Pure guilt. He tore his gaze away from mine as if he knew I’d be able to read the emotions there. He had yet to answer my question, and I wondered if he really would or if I had the heart to push him to.
Swallowing, I could barely fathom what he must be going through. How much pain he was certainly in. And yet, he’d never ask for help. And I had the sense he’d never let himself not feel the pain.
He’d continue to punish himself.
/>
Ryan. I wanted to say it. I wanted him to confide everything in me so it would feel better, to let it out.
But I might as well be asking the sun to rise in the west tomorrow instead of the east.
Chapter 17
Ryan
Ms. Gray Barrett thought she knew exactly what she was doing. And that I was at the mercy of her superior psychology skills. That she was drawing me out like a snake charmer draws a snake from a basket. Coaxing, cajoling…intriguing me.
Now she sat, her arms hugging her shins so that her knees supported her chin. She looked at me from over the rim of her eyeglasses. How cute she was, how adorable even with her smallest gestures—like constantly adjusting her glasses on her nose or chewing her top lip with her bottom teeth when she was concentrating.
I couldn’t help but notice those small things now and wondered how I ever thought her unremarkable before. She was the furthest thing from unremarkable. Subtle, yes. But that was because she tried to hide herself, keep herself protected and safe.
She was looking at me with her head tilted to the side. “Is now a good time to point out that you still haven’t answered my question?”
I schooled my features. Would now be a good time to point out how much I’d enjoy getting her out of those clothes and doing what we started last night?
I swept the idea out of my head faster than it could take hold. Because of our conversation in the kitchen this afternoon, I’d never consider proposing that. But damn if I didn’t want to.
“So, why am I flying again?”
She nodded. “Yes. Is it to fulfill your promise to Xander?”
“Yes, and…” I shrugged. “Because I love to fly, especially since I got my gold wings.”
Astronauts didn’t earn that badge until after their first flight—technically a height of a hundred kilometers or higher, which was considered space flight. Until then, they wore silver wings. Since Xander had died during his first mission, he hadn’t had his gold wings long enough to ever wear them. Instead, they’d been presented to Karen at his memorial.
Gray was watching me in that uncanny way she had. The way that let you know she missed absolutely nothing. I hadn’t been as careful as I should have been around her and, to be honest, I didn’t mind. That usual barrier of caution I used to keep between myself and everyone else had relaxed, and I wasn’t sure why. But for once, I wasn’t uptight about it.
High Risk (Point of No Return Book 1) Page 22
