by Robyn M Ryan
“Taking a couple courses I couldn’t fit into my schedule during the last year. You?”
“Down time for me.”
“Lucky. So you’re keeping in shape?”
“Trying to.”
She preceded him up the sidewalk leading to her townhouse, reaching in her pocket for her keys. “Thanks for carrying my bag.”
“My pleasure.”
She opened the front door, and he set the bag inside. “Can I get you a bottle of water or something to drink?” Her voice sounded as awkward as she felt.
He leaned against the doorframe, unwilling to let the moment pass. “Thanks, I could use some hydration.” He waited at the door while she retrieved it from the kitchen and handed it to him.
“Thanks for helping me.”
Andrew pushed away from the door. “I’ll look out for you next time I cut across campus.”
Caryn watched as he turned and walked away from her door, opening her mouth to ask him to stay, but stopping as he looked back over his shoulder at her. He gave her a small wave and a wink before he headed in the direction he'd indicated he lived. Flustered, she watched as he made his way through the pedestrians milling on the crowded sidewalk, then turned and entered her home.
She got a bottle of water from the refrigerator, and she stepped into the downstairs bathroom to examine the bruise forming on her temple. Caryn fingered the skin, and shaking the hair away from her face, she splashed cool water against her forehead. She pressed the water bottle against the bruise as she remembered the way his fingers had made her skin tingle when he’d touched her forehead. She’d met the guy who’d intrigued her, sat next to him on the lawn. She knew his name. He’d walked her home! Did that mean something more than just being nice? Andrew definitely could provide a “diversion” as her dad would label it. That’s a risk worth taking. Besides, maybe Andrew’s passed this course? He could make statistics more than tolerable.
She wished again that she had asked him to come in, hating that she might not see him again. “Stupid,” she said to her image in the mirror. She tossed the towel over the bar beside the sink and went to the living room. If she hadn't been tongue-tied like some sixteen-year-old, maybe he'd be sitting across the table from her right now. She pulled the test paper and the list of tutors from her pocket, placing them on the coffee table. Her elbow ached as she retrieved her bag from beside the door and dragged it to the couch, pulling out the statistics text and dropping it on the papers. Not what she’d had in mind for the afternoon.
She looked at the list of tutors and made an appointment with the first student who answered the phone. There goes another hour of my days. At least getting up extra early ensured she’d finish at the same time—perhaps even pass Andrew again on her way home. She rubbed the aching joint. Noticing the grass stains on her skin and her jeans, she decided that a hot bath would be more beneficial than studying statistics.
TWO
Andrew Chadwick stepped from the shower, the petite blonde lingering in his mind—the golden hair, disheveled by the fall, the shirt and jeans giving a subtle hint to her figure. But it was her amber eyes, a shade he’d never seen, that beckoned him now. That and the fact she’s drop-dead gorgeous. How could I not see her before colliding? Don’t usually bother to check out students when running my ten. But still. No way should she blend into the background. She’s young, twenty? Way to make an impression—knock her over, ruin her food, and leave her with a nice lump on her forehead. Even though she’d insisted she felt okay, what if she had a delayed reaction to the blow?
Andrew ticked off concussion symptoms. She didn’t show any of the signs. But how many times had he faked it and wound up sitting in the darkened trainer’s room? Maybe he should stop?
Andrew suppressed a laugh, admitting his true motive. That girl intrigued him. Her shyness surprised him, but more than that, she was refreshingly down-to-earth. Monique flashed through his mind. Geez, if it’d been his ex, the drama queen, she’d still be shrieking. She’d have insisted he carry her to the ER. God forbid her hair got messed up or make-up smeared.
Thank God, she’s no longer my problem.
He'd stop at the market and pick up something to replace the groceries. He owed her that. If she felt well enough, they could go out to dinner. Stopping by sounds better by the moment.
His iPhone rang and for a second Monique sprang to mind. He glanced at the screen, relieved to see his brother’s name on the display. “Don’t tell me you’re calling from the library, Tom?”
“The intricacies of the nervous system fried my brain today. Literally. You want to grab lunch tomorrow?”
“Sounds good. Guess who I thought was calling when the phone rang?”
“Obviously not me. Who?”
“Monique. I hadn’t thought about her since the day she left.”
Tom laughed. “How the hell did she get in your mind? Block her number; give her an appropriate ring tone. I can suggest a few.”
“So can I. Actually, my mind was on someone else.”
“You getting back on the market?”
“I’m not on the market,” Andrew scoffed as he leaned against the counter. “Met someone today, though."
“Monique’s angelic twin?”
Andrew heard the sarcasm behind Tom’s chuckle. “No, not at all—not in looks, I mean. Total opposite in personality and not a red-head.”
“That’s a good place to begin. Where did you meet?”
“During my run. Hopefully, she’ll go to dinner with me tonight.”
“Don’t let me keep you. Catch you at lunch tomorrow? Sullivan’s?”
“Sounds good.” Andrew sat on the bar chair for a while. It bugged him that Monique still entered his thoughts, especially after all this time. She had not crossed his mind in months, and now that he met someone he’d like to get to know, she pops into his mind. They were through. Done. No doubt about that. If she showed up at his door, he’d shut it—no, slam it—in her face. He wasted two years trying to make that dysfunctional relationship work. And what did that get him? Worst. Betrayal. Ever.
He shook his head as if to exorcise her vision and grabbed his keys from the counter. If he’d learned anything from that experience, he had no intention of getting involved with another attention-seeking, clinging, manipulative woman whose only ambition focused on actually wanting to be eye candy. Don’t forget gold digger.
Was that why he found Caryn so intriguing? Or was he blinded by beauty—again? Andrew didn’t think so, but he’d keep that in mind. If she even cared to see him again.
Andrew drove to the market and took his time selecting produce he remembered seeing strewn across the lawn, grabbed a box of the energy bars, then filled the cart with food that looked good to him. He was going overboard, but figured it was the least he could do. He put the bags in the car, and then walked to a nearby sidewalk florist. After thinking a moment, he selected a large bouquet of colorful gerbera daisies.
Andrew parked in front of her townhouse. He sat for a while after turning off the engine. Hope she doesn’t mind me showing up like this. Making too many assumptions? She may have a boyfriend. Or, I might be the last person she wants to see.
***
Refreshed by a long soak in the tub, Caryn wandered into the kitchen, looking for something to eat. She grabbed one of the snack bars she’d gotten from the store. She needed energy if she hoped to attempt to make sense of her notes from the day’s classes. She took a bite of the bar and sat down on the couch as she picked up the test from the coffee table. Caryn reviewed the questions, checking her work. There were a couple of careless mistakes, but the rest of her answers looked logical, at least to her.
Sighing, she opened the text and flipped to the beginning of the section, searching for a problem similar to her first incorrect answer. She copied it beside her work on the test and then followed the instructions step-by-step until she discovered her mistake. She studied the instructions, trying to find the method behind the process. It might as well h
ave been hieroglyphics. Frustrated, she shoved the book away from her. Why was her father so insistent that she include statistics in her education plan? There were plenty of left-brained people who could handle that for his company. Why did she need to understand the process?
She looked at the next wrong answer and found the section covering the question. She should have remembered this from her last statistics course. As she reworked the problem, Caryn felt reasonably confident she had the correct answer. Two out of…well, too many problems, and already her head ached and her mind wandered. She leaned back and closed her eyes, her mind returning to Andrew. What were the chances they’d cross paths today—literally? So, getting knocked on my butt was the highlight of the day. Pathetic. But she did get to meet him after wondering about him for a couple weeks. She wished she could enjoy summer “down time.” Her father’s disapproving expression invaded her mind. No distractions, remember? It was easy to go along with “the plan” before she’d met a guy whose blue eyes gave her goose bumps. No way even her mother would approve this distraction—not when she needed to concentrate on passing these two courses. Mom was a romantic, but she was a practical romantic.
Why were they so insistent she follow their plans for her life? She wanted to enjoy college like a regular student. She could count on one hand the number of dates she’d had the first two years in Toronto—and that included the arranged date with the son of one of her parent’s friends. Why do I feel guilty about taking time to have fun? Especially now, during the summer.
Then, she remembered. Dad always found fault with them. Even ran background checks occasionally.
I could not tell them, she thought, but then felt a pinch of guilt. They want me to be safe. Overprotective, but they have good reason.
Caryn knew her parents would try to select her perfect husband—at least their definition of a suitable match. She’d endured the constant dinner parties that included a guy her age—from the right family, of course. Talk about awkward.
She might as well have enrolled in the university he’d selected or an Ivy League school that met his criteria. Her dreams of free afternoons morphed into visions of migraine-inducing marathon statistical analysis remediation studies. Just perfect. She opened her eyes, focusing on the shiny new textbook taunting her on the table. The frustration bubbled within her until she wanted to scream obscenities. Instead, she grabbed the book and hurled it against the door as hard as she could. Take that!
Caryn giggled at the spectacle she’d just made of herself. Thank heavens no one witnessed her tantrum.
***
Andrew stepped from the car and walked to her door. Hope she’s here; otherwise I’m taking home a car full of food and flowers that will never see water. He raised his hand to knock when something hit the door with a loud thud. What the…?
He felt a momentary alarm. Was she okay?
Andrew rapped on the door.
He saw Caryn’s surprised expression when she opened the door. He looked past her into the room and noticed the textbook sprawled on the floor. She must’ve thrown it in frustration. Instantly, he felt relief, and a little amusement. “Is it safe? Everything okay?”
Caryn laughed, her cheeks growing red as she grasped the book and waved him in. “You missed getting hit by this textbook.”
He looked at her as he took it from her hands. “You throw a mean fastball?” He smiled at her blank expression. “You know, baseball.”
“No, but I can throw a good tantrum.” She cringed. “So you heard it?”
“Oh, I think everyone on the block heard it.” He suppressed a smile. “Wanted to check you’re okay.”
“I guess the answer is obvious. You didn’t need to check on me.”
Andrew shrugged. “Yeah, I did. If you weren’t feeling well, I’d make sure you got to the ER. Since you appear to be a bit stubborn.”
“So, do I seem normal?”
At Andrew’s expression, they both burst into laughter. “This ‘normal’ behavior?”
“No, I don’t usually throw tantrums or books. I’m frustrated that it’s the third week of classes and I’m already failing.”
Andrew raised the textbook, and Caryn nodded.
“Oh, yes, well, then this book deserved to be knocked around.” He grinned, and she laughed a little. He laid the book on the coffee table. “I went to the store—wanted to see if you were home before I unloaded the car.” He shook his head to quiet her protest. “I wanted to. Be right back.”
“Can I help?”
“Nope. Point me to the kitchen.” He returned, grocery bags and the bouquet crowded into his arms.
Caryn stepped aside and motioned toward the kitchen. “I can take something.”
"I'm good." He spotted the table in the breakfast area, walking toward it and depositing the bags. He turned and held the flowers toward her. “I hope you're not too bruised because of me.”
She held the flowers near her face and inhaled the soft scents. “I love these daisies. Their bright colors always make me happy. Thank you.”
“I thought about your dinner littering the grass and figured the least I could do was replace it.”
Caryn peeked in the bags. “I didn’t have all this.”
“I didn’t have your shopping list.”
She smiled, but didn’t reply as she pulled a vase from a cabinet, placed the flowers in it and filled it with water. Andrew leaned against the counter as he watched, admiring the golden hair that fell past her shoulders, the amber eyes that complemented the delicate facial features, the petite yet perfect figure enhanced by the shorts and T-shirt she wore. He stepped to the table to help her unpack the groceries.
“You must like salad and vegetables as much as I do,” she said with a smile.
“I don’t know if I’d say that.” He pulled two steaks from another bag and handed them to her. “This is more my taste.”
“You shouldn’t have gotten all this. It’s too much.”
He smiled as he folded the empty bag and raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you’ll have company.”
She glanced at him as she put the steaks in the refrigerator. “You’ll stay for dinner?”
He saw her smile fade and her cheeks redden when he declined. “Not tonight.”
“I shouldn’t have assumed.”
Her embarrassment was evident and Andrew spoke quickly to put her at ease. “I’d like to take you out to dinner. If you’re feeling up to it.”
He noted the hesitation, but the way her eyes lit up gave her away. “I’m fine, but we don’t have to go out. You were way too generous with these groceries. We can cook the steaks out on the grill.”
“I’m taking you out, Caryn. It’s the least I can do. We can grill the steaks this weekend.” Nice move, ask her for two dates. Way to scare her off.
Caryn’s eyes met his and Andrew tried to read her thoughts. She broke contact after a moment.
“Can I get you something to drink? A glass of wine?”
“Sounds good.”
Caryn nodded toward the living room. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll get the drinks.”
Andrew sat on the sofa, glancing about the neat townhouse. Bright and sunny, the room’s many plants and hanging baskets complemented the light, modern furniture. A fireplace dominated the wall on the right end of the living room, and a stairway on the left led upstairs to the loft bedroom. With an abundance of natural light and bright floral paintings decorating the walls, the home gave the overall effect of perpetual spring. Much nicer than my place. Didn’t even consider looking over here. Should have.
Caryn returned in a moment, wine bottle and corkscrew in one hand and wine glasses in the other. She held the bottle out to him with a sheepish smile.
“I need assistance—I broke the cork off in one.”
“Want me to dig it out?”
“No, already tried. There are about a million pieces floating in the wine right now.”
He opened the bottle and filled the glasses she held
. She sat beside him as she handed one to him.
“You have a nice place. Have you lived here long?” Andrew shifted to face her, resting his arm on the back of the sofa.
“As long as I’ve been in Toronto—my parents bought it for me to use while I’m in school.”
“Nice. Beats living on campus.” He nodded toward her textbooks. “So what are you studying, besides…” He read the title of the battered text. “Advanced Statistical Analysis?”
“Business, majoring in management, with a minor in marketing and finance.” Caryn wrinkled her nose in distaste as she sipped her wine.
“Impressive. You enjoy it—when you’re not tossing textbooks?”
“I’m having a tough time with marketing and obviously, statistics. That’s not very encouraging, is it?” Caryn reached to push the statistics text further away from her.
“You can switch, can’t you?”
“Not according to my dad. He says it’s all essential to my career.” She sipped her drink and pulled her feet up under her as she turned toward him. “So, I cope…and occasionally throw tantrums.”
He reached for the statistics test and glanced at it. “This the bad news today?”
Caryn made a face as she leaned back. “I’m already having nightmares over that course. The professor gave me a list of tutors.”
Andrew smiled. “I thought we might go to EJ’s, if that's okay with you?” he asked, referring to a sports bar across town.
“I should study…” Caryn hesitated, but shrugged. “I have a tutorial set up for tomorrow, so why not? Give me a minute to change.”
“Not on my account—you look great.”
Caryn shook her head, and he noticed the color rising in her cheeks. “I won’t be long.”
His eyes followed as she walked up the stairs. Those shorts work just fine for me. Though, she might get too much attention at EJ’s. The bar will be packed—if she’s old enough to legally drink. No way is she under nineteen. Right?
