I winced as I caught sight of my love handles spilling from the waistband of my jeans. My breasts looked swollen in the cotton shirt. I considered changing into a loose-Þ tting button-down, but I could hear
• 110 •
SUCH A PRETTY FACE
Pepito’s shrill little barks reminding me that he had been waiting long enough.
Ryan was standing at the front door, studying a piece of paper when I came down the stairs. She was frowning, but I was learning that didn’t mean that she was upset or anything, just concentrating.
“Hi, I’m ready.”
“Great.” It took her a moment to look up. “Are you thinking about doing this?”
I moved closer so that I could see what she was looking at. What I had assumed was the notice for the burglaries was actually the entry form for the PDX Challenge. I was going to point out that the application was probably addressed to Brenda but I decided against it.
“I was thinking about it, but I need to get in better shape.” A little white lie won’t hurt, will it?
Ryan handed me the application. “I could help you if you like. It is grueling, but totally doable. I can’t commit to doing the Challenge with you until I get a full-time job and know what my schedule will be like, but I can help you get into shape if you need a buddy.”
“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to take up your free time,” I said, but the idea of spending time with Ryan set off a little thrill at the pit of my stomach.
“I don’t mind at all. Besides, I could use a workout buddy.”
“Well, if you don’t mind…when are you available to start?” I felt a little like I had when I blamed Christina for eating the last of my mother’s Christmas peanut brittle. The lying sucked, but the brittle sure was tasty.
“I can wait around after I’m done working, or if you’re a morning person I can come before you go to the ofÞ ce.”
“I’m never sure what time I’ll get home, but I try to be at my desk before the stock market opens at half past six.”
“That should work. I’m up way before then, anyway.”
“You are? Doing what?”
Ryan shrugged. “Whatever needs doing.”
The comment brought a vision of Ryan in the early morning sun doing…well, me. She was looking at me oddly and I feared that my face was giving me away.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans,” she said. “You look real nice.”
• 111 •
GABRIELLE GOLDSBY
“Thanks.” I blushed.
Ryan bent down and attached the leash and collar to Pepito. “We should go. I think he’s been holding it.”
Ryan opened the door and Pepito shot out as far as his leash would allow. “Holding it?” I shut the door behind us and decided to lock the dead bolt with my key in deference to Mr. Gentry’s warning. “Why wouldn’t he go out his pet door?”
“Because he knows we’re going for a walk. I told him. He stores it all up so that he can leave his scent in more places. See?” I watched Pepito prance over to the mailbox pole, lift a leg, and let ß y three short streams.
“Oh, that’s nice.”
Ryan laughed. “Don’t worry about it, the sprinklers will take care of it.”
“If you say so,” I said. “I’m thinking about putting one of those slots in the front door anyway; it’s supposed to help with identity theft.”
“It’s certainly a good idea. Want me to add it to my list of to-dos?”
“That would be great, thanks.” I couldn’t help but notice the way her bicep bulged when she lifted her arm to gently encourage Pepito against “marking his scent” on one of my neighbors’ newspapers. “So, do you work out a lot?”
“Not as much as I used to. I try to make sure that I’m doing some form of exercise every day, though.”
“In the gym?”
“Nah, I can’t really afford a membership, and the gyms around here are so expensive.”
“Did you see the equipment downstairs?” I asked, perhaps too quickly. “Why don’t you use it? It’s probably not as good as a real gym, but there’s no membership required.”
“It’s pretty good equipment. It looks brand new.” Ryan sounded curious. “It looks like you paid a lot for it. Why buy it and not use it?”
“I go to the gym in the building. I train with Selena.” Now, that wasn’t exactly a lie. I did work out with Selena, for about three days last week.
“I know Selena.”
“You do?” Great, nothing like trying to impress someone and getting caught in a lie. I stared up at the sky as I tried to Þ gure out
• 112 •
SUCH A PRETTY FACE
how to extract myself from the hole I was digging. There was only one large, ß uffy cloud above us, which, for Portland, meant that the day was picturesque.
“We aren’t friends or anything. I used to see her around a lot when I Þ rst moved here. Not so much anymore.”
I wanted to ask her more, but since she had respected my privacy by not asking about Brenda, I decided to do the same. “He sure does stop a lot, doesn’t he?”
Ryan laughed and looked down at Pepito fondly. “Yeah, he does. I think he does it to make the walks take longer. He loves being outside.”
He was kind of cute if you looked at him sideways and squinted with the eye still viewing him. “Ryan, have you noticed anything…odd about Pepito?”
“No, like what?”
“Have you been in my bedroom yet?”
Ryan didn’t reply at Þ rst. “I haven’t gotten to the items in your bedroom yet.”
“I was just wondering if you’ve noticed him staring at himself in the mirror?”
Ryan looked askance at me.
“No, I mean he kind of gazes at himself.”
“Gazes? Like how?”
I looked at Ryan as if I were longing for something, which wasn’t exactly hard. “Like that.”
“Poor baby must have gas.”
My jaw dropped and I would have been horriÞ ed if I hadn’t noticed Ryan’s smile. God, the woman had a wonderful smile on her.
“I’m sorry, but you should have seen the look on your face.” Ryan was laughing so hard that I was starting to get offended.
“It wasn’t that bad and besides, I was just mimicking Casanova here.”
Pepito’s tongue appeared from between his two front teeth as he looked at me, his hind leg arched high above a dandelion.
“No, I can’t say that I’ve seen him doing that. But if he is, good for him.”
“Good for him? What do you mean, good for him? Don’t you think that’s weird? He might be psychotic or something.”
Ryan laughed again, that strangled, uncontrolled kind of laugh
• 113 •
GABRIELLE GOLDSBY
that hurt about as much as it felt good. I was secretly proud of myself for eliciting that kind of response. I vowed to try to make her laugh more often.
After she quieted I became serious. “Thank you for paying him so much attention. I have no idea how I ended up with a dog.” Sure you do; Brenda abandoned him just like she abandoned you.
“I like him. He’s always so excited when I come in. He follows me around and he doesn’t ever get bored with me. He’s always so appreciative when I feed him and he listens when I talk.” Ryan shrugged.
“What more could you ask for in a companion?”
“Length-appropriate front teeth?” I ventured. “Use of a washcloth instead of his tongue to clean his bitty parts? Fresh breath?”
She was laughing again and I was eating it up.
“You know what I mean,” she choked out.
“I guess, but Pepito doesn’t like me half as much as he likes you,”
I said. “He tolerates me, like I tolerate the cashier at Burgerville. You know, a means to an end. I can just see him thinking ‘hurry up and give me my food, bitch,’ every time I’m getting his dinner ready.”
“Is that what you think wh
en you’re standing in line at Burgerville?”
“Yeah, doesn’t everyone?” That set her off again and I felt like high-stepping alongside Pepito.
We had reached a small neighborhood market that was too expensive to shop at regularly, but was perfect for special occasions.
“Speaking of dinner? Would you mind walking him around the block while I run inside?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“I won’t be long.”
“I got all the time you need,” she said, and I could have sworn there was a caress in her voice.
By the time I walked across the threshold of the little store, I had convinced myself that I had imagined it. I grabbed a couple stuffed chicken breasts, enough salad Þ xings for two, and a box of oolong tea, and didn’t even blink over the fact that Ryan had thus far refused to have dinner with me at the house. I walked out of the store with my paper bags just as she and Pepito came around the corner.
“Ready to head back?” She took one of the bags and I was heartened by the fact that although the smile was gone, her eyes still
• 114 •
SUCH A PRETTY FACE
had the residual glow of laughter. She seemed less guarded, relaxed.
Oh, what the hell. If she says no I’ll just have leftovers.
“Hey, I know you’re probably busy, but I have enough here for two. Pepito and I are getting tired of talking to each other. We’d love it if you would stay for dinner.”
This time there was no hesitation. “Sure, I’d like that.”
“Really?” Thankfully Pepito tugged at his leash and she allowed herself to be pulled away from me. I hurried to catch up. “It’s just that I’ve asked you before and you always said no.”
“Maybe I wasn’t hungry.”
She wasn’t hungry then, but now she is? What does that mean?
It means she’s hungry. It means she’s going to have dinner with you.
Don’t question it and don’t question the fact that you’re positively giddy with excitement at the prospect of being able to spend more time with her.
I slowed and let her walk ahead with Pepito. I loved the way she walked. The way she murmured little words of encouragement to Pepito as he stopped, sniffed the ground, turned in circles, and decided not to release his precious cargo just yet. I loved the way she paid no attention to the surprised, even horriÞ ed looks of passersby as they got a good look at the dog she was walking. I loved the fact that she dressed so simply and wore no makeup. Yet I couldn’t imagine there was a time when she didn’t turn heads.
She really was quite stunning. My thoughts had just turned to a place that made me feel uncomfortable and a little scared when she seemed to realize that I wasn’t at her side. She looked back, her brow raised, her lips turned up in a quizzical smile. My heart was already beating a staccato against my rib cage even before I quickened my pace to catch up.
v
What the hell was I doing? The woman made it clear she wasn’t interested, why was I working so hard to be her friend? Because you don’t have enough friends. Or as Brenda so eloquently put it, “you have no friends.”
I can do this. I can do this. The mantra was almost enough to convince me that I was overreacting, that Ryan didn’t look half as good
• 115 •
GABRIELLE GOLDSBY
as I thought she did and the tingling at the back of my neck was because of the brisk walk home.
Back inside the house, Ryan unbuckled Pepito’s leash and he ripped down the hall, into the family room, through the kitchen, and out his pet door. We had barely shut the front door when we heard the sound of him crashing back through the kitchen. He ran back down the hall and veered up the stairs. I grimaced as I imagined him diving onto my bed and rubbing his snot-moistened nose up and down my duvet.
“Guess someone’s had a good day,” I said.
“Mmm-hmm. Want me to take the bags in the kitchen?” Ryan asked.
“Sure.” I caught my breath and followed her, pausing at the doorway to watch her from behind. Her hips twisted slightly as she set something on the counter. A throbbing ache started between my legs as I imagined what it would feel like to touch her.
“Ryan?”
She glanced toward me. “Yeah?” Her face was sad, contemplative.
I thought about the conversation I’d overheard earlier and decided she was probably worried about Þ nding enough money to send her mother.
“Why don’t you let me do that? You’ve been working all day.”
“So have you.” She seemed confused, and again her reaction made me smile.
“You have the most expressive face in the world. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Hmm…yeah.” Ryan turned back to the bags. “It’s gotten me in a lot of trouble over the years. I try to hide it, but people mistake that for disinterest. My mom used to say ‘you can’t win for losing.’”
“Here.” I took the chicken from her hands. “Wash up and grab a mug. I’ll make you some of this…” I held the box out in front of me.
“Oolong tea. Does that sound good?”
Ryan smiled; this time the smile reached her eyes. “Thanks for, you know, doing this. You didn’t have to.”
“I know, but I wanted to. I can handle this. Relax. Have your tea.”
She looked at me for a long moment. “If I can’t help with anything, I’d rather go get some work done on the house.”
“Do you have a hard time just relaxing?”
She smiled. “I just prefer to help.” As if she were trying to
• 116 •
SUCH A PRETTY FACE
understand her own impulses better, she said, “I guess when you’re busy, it’s easier not to worry about things you can’t control.”
I was probably just trying to keep her close to me, but I really wanted to understand her better. I took her mug and poured bottled water into it. She unwrapped the tea bag while I put the mug in the microwave. Ryan was quiet for so long that if I hadn’t felt her presence, I would have wondered if she had left. I noisily pulled a pan from the cabinet and searched the cabinet for foil.
I heard the click-clack of Pepito’s nails; he stopped and whined a little and I watched Ryan scoop him up and sit down with him on her lap. Good, she’s going to stay.
“Do you have a lot of things you don’t want to think about?” I asked Þ nally.
“Don’t most folks?” For some reason, that phrase sounded more Southern than anything she had ever said to me.
I wanted to tell her I don’t know many “folks.” But I didn’t know how to voice it in a way that didn’t offend her. I had my own circle, but the people Brenda called our friends—none of them felt real, not what I suspected Ryan meant by “folks.” She was honest, hardworking, caring, and one of the sexiest women I had ever laid eyes on. I wanted to tell her all that, but what I said was, “You act a lot older than you are.”
She made a small sound that I took for a laugh and I glanced at her face. Her eyes were red rimmed as if she had been crying or missing sleep. “Thanks a lot.”
“You know what I mean. I’m not talking about your looks. You look good. I can tell you take care of yourself.” The microwave beeped and I pulled the mug out and handed it to her.
“So you’re keeping busy to keep your mind off not having a job?”
I made a point of seeming distracted with my kitchen activities so she didn’t feel as though I was giving her the third degree. I sometimes had to employ this tactic with my older clients so that I could get a better feel for their worries and fears. Older people sometimes hide Þ nancial problems behind bravado. The old lady with so much money she has to hide it in her mattress is not a reality that I’ve come across.
“No. Well, maybe a little. My job was a means to an end. I liked working with Steve, but it’s not what I see myself doing years from now.”
• 117 •
GABRIELLE GOLDSBY
“What do you see yourself doing?”
>
I could sense the shrug in her voice. “I want my own business.
I like the idea of rehabbing some of the homes in less desirable neighborhoods. You know, for low-income or single-parent homes.”
“You mean like Habitat for Humanity?”
“Sort of, but I’d do it with existing houses instead of building new ones.”
“Do you know what’s involved in doing something like that?”
“I’ve done a little research, and there are grants that you can apply for. I could do most of the work myself and I’d probably live in each one as I worked, so the overhead would be low.”
“Would you do that here, or go home to Texas?” I kept my hands busy putting the chicken on the foil as I waited anxiously for her response.
“I don’t think Texas is my home anymore.”
“And Portland is?”
“I don’t know yet. I keep telling myself that I’ll know when I Þ nd the right place. I do know there’s something about this city, this state, that I really like. It’s great being able to go to the beach and hike on the same day.”
“You hike?”
“Almost every weekend. You?”
“I don’t even own hiking boots.”
“Too bad, you’re missing some gorgeous trails. I hike and camp up near Mount Hood.”
“Do you do that alone or with friends? I heard that could be dangerous alone.” Damn, Mia, if she doesn’t see that as a thinly veiled attempt to Þ nd out if she’s seeing someone, then she is a lot more innocent than she looks.
“I usually go alone.” With nothing else to do, I put my own mug of water in the microwave and washed up the counter space where I had been working with dinner. I was stalling because I felt a little nervous about sitting down and having a conversation with Ryan.
“Mia?”
“Hmm.” I opened the microwave door before it could ping.
Such a Pretty Face Page 13
