I gathered my food and water, and walked down to meet him.
“Hey! Good afternoon!” I tried without success to contain my excitement.
“Good afternoon, darlin'.”
"Darlin'," I cracked up.
The fans started to gather around, hoping that perhaps he’d throw a ball or sign an autograph. With his beckoning finger, he motioned for me to lean as close as I could to him. When I did, he leapt to grab the top of the railing.
“Meet you in the players’ lot after the game. I left word to let you pass. Just show them your ID.” He hopped down and continued his practice routine.
“What did he say?” a little boy asked.
“That he was sorry he couldn’t sign autographs for everyone." I tipped his cap. "He’ll try and get one to you later if you come to the gate after the game."
“Can we?” the little boy shouted excitedly to a man who I assumed was his dad.
“He really said that?” the man asked doubtfully.
“Yeah!” I hope he doesn’t mind.
“Sure we can, son.” I was certain the little boy jumped three feet high as they left the area.
Watching Ryan come in the game to pitch the ninth inning was a special bonus. When he jogged in from the bullpen, his theme music, Smoke on the Water, blasted over the sound system. The entire stadium roared with excitement. The anticipation of the fans was almost unbearable. He was poised and stoic as he stood on the mound and stared in, ready to face the last batter. With every ball and strike the stadium roared.
Standing ominously at home plate, the opponent was ready to hit the ball hard, trying to tie the game with one swing. He waved the bat several times, honing in on the pitch. When the ball roared across the plate and the umpire yelled, “strike three,” the cheers and applause thundered. My screams and claps for Ryan and the Goliaths were among the tens of thousands of others.
I talked with several fans that were regulars at the games, and then exited the stadium. After showing my ID to security at the player's parking lot, I was let through the gate. Talking with some of the wives to kill time, I excused myself when I saw Ryan at the exit door. I started to walk to his car . . . until I heard the voice of the little boy I'd earlier told to wait at the gate with his dad for Ryan’s autograph.
Thank goodness he spoke up. I almost forgot about him.
“He’ll be right out!” I shouted.
Please be okay that I did this, please, please, please.
The face of my lover seemed filled with eagerness. I worried he’d forgotten about management standing around, but then I wondered, didn't they already know? How could they not?
“There’s a little boy at the gate, see him there with his dad?” I pointed. “I told him you’d give him an autograph. I’m sorry to commit you like that. I didn’t know what to say when he asked me what you whispered to me at the railing.”
“No problem.” He took away my fear so easily it was as if he magically waived his hand and gold dust filled the air around us. “Kev, toss me an extra ball from the equipment bag, okay?"
“Hey Nick,” Kevin tossed the ball to Ryan.
“Hi, Kevin.”
“What’s your name young man?” Ryan asked the little boy.
“Garth.”
“Well, Garth . . .” Ryan signed the ball and took off the boy's cap. He rubbed the boy's head, messing up his hair. “Before I give you this ball, I need to be sure you’re a Goliaths fan. Are you?”
He winked at the father.
“You bet! Dad and me come out every home stand!” He was almost shouting. His dad’s smile was so wide I could hardly see his cheeks.
“You said the magic words." Ryan tossed the ball playfully. "Here you go.”
“Cool! Thank you, Mr. Tilton! Look, Dad!”
His father thanked Ryan and after a few words they shook hands and walked away.
“You bailed me out of that one."
"You owe me?" His grin dared me to respond.
"Guess I do."
He started to put his arm around me.
“Not yet,” I said guardedly.
“Right. I forgot.” He leaned next to my ear and whispered, “I don’t think they give a damn, Ms. Young. In fact, I think you’re safer than you know.”
What did you do?
Chapter 24
Taken Away, Into The Night
We walked to his car and Ryan opened the passenger door of his Mustang for me.
I love when he does this.
“What are we doing?” I couldn’t stand not knowing.
“Four-wheeling."
“Ooh fun!” I exclaimed. “Where?”
“Pismo Beach."
“We’ll never make it,” I cautioned. “That’s a four-hour drive.”
"I know."
"It will be dark. Are there bright lights on the beach? Won't we be late coming back? You have a day game and what about packing?"
“Just hang with me, woman. I’ll get us there before sunset.”
“I don’t see how. Even with the way you drive,” I kidded.
“Hey, I’ve never driven recklessly when my Nicky’s in the car.”
When he exited the freeway near the airport, I caught on. He pulled into the area where small, chartered airplanes waited for their passengers.
“You’re flying us down there?” I was shocked.
“Well, our pilot is." The excitement in his eyes caused his eyebrows to lift. "Surprised?"
“Yeah, I’m surprised! I can hardly wait. How long does it take? Oh, I'm so excited. Do you have everything ready, or . . . do we need jackets? How do we get to the beach? Is someone picking us up? Will it be cold there, and—”
“I have everything we need.” He reassured me and then introduced both of us to the pilot. After discussing the flight and what we should expect, we boarded the small aircraft and buckled our seatbelts.
"How long does it take to fly there?" I fired off another question.
“Thirty minutes." Ryan nodded to the window. "Have you ever seen the coast line from this altitude?”
“Sure! I’m a jetsetter and I’ve seen it hundreds of times,” I teased.
“It’s beautiful,” he laughed. “Sometimes you can see whales and dolphins, cruise ships . . . I’ve seen some spectacular sights.”
Yeah, the view in here is pretty spectacular all on its own.
“You’ve done this before?” I asked, fearful I was being taken to a spot that was the first step in his routine of seduction.
“No, honey.” He put his hand on mine. “I didn’t mean that. I meant when I’ve been in a small plane touring the coastline. I’ve never taken any woman to Pismo. Don’t start spinning.”
“I’m sorry.”
He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed it.
We landed at San Luis Obispo airport, twelve miles from the beach. A Jeep awaited us and two men stood ready to drive us to our destination. Fifteen minutes and we were there.
A dune buggy was outfitted with helmets, goggles, and jumpsuits that went over our clothes. After putting them on, we zipped over and down the dunes, spinning into doughnuts, and skimming across the sand and tide lines. The cold wind tossed our hair in every direction. Water splashed our bodies. The wet sand covered our goggles and dirtied our suits. Like children, we screamed with new excitement. For a couple of hours we took turns driving fast, reckless, and without a care.
"Had enough?" Ryan asked as dusk began to settle.
"Yes, but it was so much fun!" I threw my arms around his neck. "Can I drive back?"
"Actually, just take us down the beach a little further," he said with a grin. "Around the next corner."
Waiting for us less than a mile away was a roaring fire and a blanket spread out on the sand. A small, portable table was set with plates, glasses and silverware. The two men who drove the Jeep stood next to a small grill. It was lit and ready to cook something delicious.
“What’s this?” I asked, anxious for my next surpr
ise.
"Let's take off our suits and I'll tell you all about it," he urged.
We unzipped them and put them in a plastic bag Ryan grabbed from a small storage chest.
“They're cooking fresh abalone," Ryan informed. "Have you ever had it?”
“No."
“You’re in for a treat. I love it with potato salad and sliced tomatoes. Will you try it?”
“Oh, hell yeah,” I smacked my lips. "I'm starving! Why does the ocean make me so hungry? Does it do that to you?"
"Guess it's the fresh air," he pondered. His arms slowly moved around me. “Watch how they pound the abalone.” He stood behind me, his chest against my back; his mouth was at my ear. I felt packaged inside his body and the masculine essence I'd come to adore. “It has to be tenderized and pounded into thin steaks. Then they’ll dip them in breadcrumbs and fry them in oil until they're golden brown. I hope you like it.”
Oh, I already like it. Maybe I'll like the abalone, too.
When we settled on the blanket, we tucked our legs under the table and were served. The steaks looked like crispy chicken strips. A big scoop of potato salad and thick slices of beautiful beefsteak tomatoes dusted with salt and pepper, accompanied the shellfish. Two large glasses held lemonade that looked freshly squeezed.
Ryan watched me take my first bite. I closed my eyes to savor it. Perfectly seasoned, the abalone was tender and hot. When I took a bite of the old-fashioned potato salad—the kind with eggs, pickles and onions—I thought I’d gone to food heaven.
“Everything is delicious, Ryan. You're right, these pair together deliciously. All this is more than I could have imagined for one afternoon. What a sweet memory. You're so nice to me. Thanks for today.”
"Makes up for last night?"
"Oh, most definitely." I kissed his cheek.
“Do you want to watch the sunset before we leave?”
“If we stay, can we find our way back to the jeep? It'll be dark, so do we use the dune buggy, or what? We'll need extra flashlights; do we have those? They took our jumpsuits. Will our clothes be okay? Where do we return everything? How do we get back to the Jeep? All those dunes . . . are they safe?” I was about to ask another series of questions when Ryan answered them.
“That’s why these two gentlemen have flashlights," Ryan assured me. "Don't worry, we’re taken care of. They parked the Jeep right over the hill.”
Settling into his body, my back nestled against his chest.
“You think of everything,” I prepared to enjoy sitting against Ryan and the spectacular sunset ahead of us. “Don’t kiss my hair. It’s filthy.”
His laugh rang out. With it, the sun sprayed purples, oranges, reds, and pinks across the sky as it said goodnight.
“I want you to stay with me tonight.” Ryan gave me a nice squeeze just before the last bit of light dipped into the ocean.
All the hair on my body must have stood on end. The air around us had become thick, as if saturated with the sensations of our afternoon and evening at the beach. It was almost as if a crackling static filled the air. Any moment, I knew lightning might strike us.
“If you want to talk, we can do it here." My fears mixed with anticipation. As usual, I tried drawing a line in the sand before letting myself enjoy another possibility. He quickly blurred it.
“No, baby, you need to come home with me,” Ryan insisted. “I promise I won’t make you uncomfortable. I stayed with you last night and was happy to do it. I leave again tomorrow and I’m asking you to stay with me. Will you?”
I knew this was a question of trust—I needed to step through this barrier—the barrier that kept me in fear and shadows. Resisting would be a slap in the face after what he’d done for me—not only our spectacular afternoon at the beach, but also the way he’d taken care of Jenise and Sean.
“Okay.” I agreed.
What have I gotten myself into?
I took his hand as we walked off the beach to the Jeep. We were muddy, sandy, wet, full, and satisfied. As we sat together waiting several minutes for the two men to pack everything into the vehicle, my mind was dizzy with questions.
Within minutes we were at the airport.
When we got onto the plane, I knew I was on a new path—our path. Thirty minutes passed in a blink.
I was still swirling inside, trying to steady my nerves.
We landed at the San Francisco International Airport, got in his Mustang, and drove to his apartment.
I knew a night alone with him would be so much more than those few hours together.
Entering a new life, an uncommon love, unique, powerful, all encompassing . . . I felt it would take over me completely.
Although I was surging with fear, I hoped his arms would surround me forever.
When it came to this—a relationship that seemed to offer me a chance at a different experience—I needed to believe we could be loud and open together. We needed to endure the rewards, the dramatic rise and fall of our emotions, the beautiful joys, and all the important parts and challenges of love.
As a couple I was still uncertain about us. Still, the hope I felt that night with Ryan made the possibilities seem endless.
For me, hope meant strength. I needed to see myself that way.
We pulled up to his building. Naveed, the valet, greeted us. We said goodnight to both him and the desk clerk, someone who wasn't Ross, and walked through the lobby to the elevator.
“I don’t want sex, yet,” I blurted.
“I told you I’d respect your boundaries,” Ryan said calmly.
Breathing—I must have been.
Remember doing it? No, I don't.
My chest constricted, my face tightened, and my body became drenched in sweat. My heart thudded.
The elevator doors opened.
We stepped in.
Ascending to his apartment one floor at a time, it was as if our own expectations rose, too.
“Where's your guest bedroom? You have one, don't you? Did you ever answer that question when we went to Yountville? I remember asking, but—"
“Yes, I have a guest bedroom.” His low laugh made the ground I was standing on seem uneven. “And yeah, I answered you in Yountville. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, Nicky.”
I'm afraid we'll blow it again. What does that mean—"anything you don’t want me to do?" I don’t know what I want. I want to go all the way with him, but then something pulls me back. What a mess I am. Is this normal in new relationships?
It turned out his apartment was on the top floor; perhaps a metaphor for how he'd handled his love life—always in command, always in charge, and on top.
“To the left, at the end of the hall,” Ryan said when the elevator doors opened.
As I stood at the big French doors to his home, he entered several numbers in a keyless lock. When the latch opened, he held the door and I stepped through.
It was everything I’d envisioned about his life—sleek, bold, glamorous and desired. I didn’t look back at him. Rather than sit down, I immediately walked over to his kitchen island to make sure we maintained some distance.
When I heard Ryan close his front door, I was certain a chapter of my life had closed with it.
Was a new chapter opening?
Chapter 25
Exploring Ryan’s Apartment
Ryan tossed his wallet and keys on a table by the door.
I could feel his desire coiled and ready to strike.
The anticipation of his arms winding around my body, coupled with the intoxication of the masculine man whose complete focus was on me, caused panic to well up in my throat.
He’s ready for more. What was I thinking coming here?
He walked over to me in a stride that was blatantly sexual.
My arms seemed to lift themselves around his neck. Slowly, his fingertips outlined the curves of my body. They'd known the roadmap to my weaknesses the first time he'd held my hand to his lips. He stayed me. I let my body react to the sensations
of his touch. For the moment, he moved me the way he wanted; the way I wanted. Certain our hearts were so close together they'd shared a silent and invisible kiss, warmth radiated with every beat.
An unrestrained joy had painted the room.
“You make time stop for me.” Ryan caressed my hair and pushed a strand behind my shoulder. “I feel like I’m sixteen and a new girl has come to school. She's standing in front of me, questioning everything with her brilliant innocence. She's the warmest light I've ever known. Without even realizing it, you call to me in a tone that sings only to me. Do you know what I hear from your body?”
“No,” I said faintly.
“She's ready for me, for us, for our next step. I don't mean intercourse." I could feel his mission unfolding. "I mean finding out what makes this connection special; the reasons we've come together; the emotions that keep us grasping for each other. I’m ready. I want to be with you. I need to feel everything about you. My spirit is ready to soar with you. Let's take the steps we need to take and crash into our unknown. Do you want that?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me how you feel,” his voice lowered. “Describe the sensations that come from deep inside, like I’ve just revealed to you. Will you risk telling me what your heart wants to say?”
Yes! I want you to know, but another voice keeps whispering, "Be careful."
“Well . . ."
I breathed deeply.
Closed my eyes.
Put both hands on my stomach and then dropped them to my sides. It was as if I was letting go of my defenses.
"I see you as this innocent boy." I opened my eyes once again. "The things you do, taking me to Pismo, sleeping over without pressuring me for sex, giving me a daisy on my birthday because you saw it when you were jogging . . . all of those are a part of having first love and being innocent. And then, there’s also this very mature and experienced side of you that stayed with me last night, and—”
“First love?” The corner of his mouth curled into a slight smile.
“In a sense, well, it's how I see us. We are the first relationships each of us has had and, well . . .” I was stumbling and nervous. “You know, I don’t really understand a lot about having them, but you and me—it’s like we’re shooting stars.”
Jagged Heart (Broken Bottles Series Book 3) Page 17
