by Holly Jacobs
Ian remembered Anne’s fear of confinement and knew that his apartment would feel like a cage if she couldn’t walk out at will. “We’ll figure something out. I don’t want you to worry.” Ian was good at figuring things out. He’d move if he had to.
Anne slumped back against the pillow. “That’s what you always say. Every time social service tried to split us up, you’d say, we’ll figure something out.”
“And we always did.” Ian looked at the woman who, if not by blood, was the sister of his heart. “And we’ll work things out this time as well. Just the two of us.”
She winced again. “You know, I never thought I was vain, but there’s going to be a huge scar on my leg.”
“Good thing for you that you’ve got another one,” Ian said. Anyone else wouldn’t have heard the humor in his serious voice, but Anne knew him and recognized his dry wit.
“Dork.”
“Crybaby.”
“About Ryane . . .”
“You worry about Anne and I’ll worry about Ryane,” Ian said.
Her eyes were getting heavy. Ian could see her fighting to keep them open. “How ’bout the guy in the other car?” she asked, her voice soft and slurred with sleep.
“Drunk. He’s not worth worrying about.” The anger, the red-hot rage, flowed through Ian all over again. He’d almost lost her. That was the thought that had haunted him since he’d gotten that phone call informing him of the accident.
Her voice faint, she said, “He might have a family that doesn’t think so.”
Tenderly he brushed the hair off her face, then took her hand in his. “Too softhearted, that’s always been your problem.”
“And you are just as soft, you just hide it better. Just check, okay?” she whispered.
He left his hand on hers. He needed to assure himself that she was there, that she was okay. Anne was the only family he had. “Softhearted? Do you know what they do to women who insult the men in their lives?”
“What?” she asked, no fear in her sleepy eyes.
“This.” Ian planted her a wet kiss on her cheek.
“Ew, gross, boy germs.” Her hand came up and wiped at the spot.
“You’re going to be just fine and so will Ryane.” He tried to sound positive and firm.
“Speaking of Ryane, you’d better get back to her.”
Ian looked at his watch. “You’re right. Allie is great, but I don’t want to take advantage. You and me, we’re a team, and we’ll be okay.”
Her eyes were closed as she murmured, “I don’t know, this time I think we might need more than just the two of us.”
Just the two of them.
That’s the way it had always been, and that’s the way it was going to stay, Ian firmly reminded himself as he trudged down the hall.
Allie? He didn’t understand her. In his experience, people didn’t just pitch in and help like that, not unless they wanted to get something out of it.
Just what was Allie looking for?
He was sure that there was something, and whatever it was, he’d have to try to oblige. One of the reasons Ian Ryan hated owing anyone anything was that he always tried to repay his debts.
He just hoped that whatever it took to pay this debt wouldn’t be too high a price.
“Well, sweetie, you smell better and you look a lot happier than when we met this morning.” Allie nuzzled the baby’s tummy. “Now, how about we go for a little walk and get you some fresh air, that way maybe you’ll sleep a little better tonight.”
The baby gurgled. “I know, I know, I’m not your mama, but she’ll be back soon.” Leaving Ryane in the middle of the bed, Allie crawled under the bed, searching for her sneakers. She had to do something about her apartment. Patrick, her friend Julie’s husband, had said the shelves would finally be ready this weekend.
That should help. She’d finally have somewhere to put all her books, and once that was done, she’d have room to move the rest of her stuff. The walls were painted, though it made little impact in the cluttered room, where boxes still were the central focus of her decorating.
“Well, starting this weekend that will change,” she told Ryane from under the bed.
“What will change?”
Startled, she jumped, but not far since there was a bed on top of her. Allie yelped as she knocked her head. “Ryane, honey, what a deep voice you have,” she muttered, moving backward.
“And Allie, honey, what a pretty picture you make.”
She shimmied out from under the bed, shoes in hand. “I didn’t hear you knock,” she said by way of an apology.
“Possibly because your head was under a bed.”
She grinned. “Possibly.” She sat on the edge of the bed next to Ryane and put her shoes on. “Us girls were just thinking about taking a walk, so maybe one of us would sleep for you tonight.”
“It’s not what I generally hope my women do when they’re with me, but in this case I’ll make an exception.”
He was being humorous again, something Allie suspected he might be frequently if you knew what to look for. His familiarity made her bold. “You and Ryane’s mom aren’t together anymore?”
“Sure we’re together. Anne and I are a team.”
“And you still see other women?” He might wear a suit, but he was slimy, she thought sadly. Her brothers didn’t seem to understand a suit didn’t necessarily mean a gentleman.
Understanding dawned on his face. “You think Anne and I . . .”
“Wrong?” A glimmer of hope lit within her.
“Wrong. Anne and I are . . .”
Allie watched him search for a definition of his relationship with Ryane’s mother.
“Never mind, your relationship with your daughter’s mother isn’t any of my business.”
“I’m not Ryane’s father,” he protested.
“Oh.” Allie’s world tilted. Anne and Ian weren’t, well, they weren’t an item, and Ian wasn’t Ryane’s father.
“Anne and I do have a relationship, but it’s never been that type of relationship. We’re friends, but more than that, we’re almost brother and sister. Other than not sharing the same parents, we are. I’ve always thought of her as my sister.”
“Oh.” Allie felt a little flutter in her chest, but she ignored it.
She stopped tying her shoes. “Well, Ryane shouldn’t be ready to eat for almost another hour. How about the three of us go for a walk and then come back for a feeding lesson.”
“What are the chances that she’ll be using a bottle soon?”
“Oh, I’m sure she’ll learn. She’s just picky and it might take a little while.”
She picked up the baby. “I saw a stroller sitting upstairs, why don’t you run up and get it and join us. You look like you could use some fresh air.”
“Is that your way of telling me I need a shower?”
“Well, let’s just say, after our walk and feeding lesson, a quick date with your shower might not be out of order. Maybe you could try a threesome?”
Ian raised his eyebrow.
Allie started laughing. “I meant with fresh air, shower, and a shave.”
He just looked at her, as if he didn’t know what to make of her.
“You know what my brothers used to tell me when I looked like that?”
“No. Do I want to?” he asked.
“Probably not, but I’ll tell you anyway. They used to tell me my face would freeze like that. And if your face froze with that expression, it would be a shame, Ian Ryan.”
“Why?”
“Because when it’s not scowling, it’s a very nice face.”
“Thank you,” he said, and then after a moment’s hesitation, he added, “I think.”
“You’re welcome,” Allie said merrily. He wasn’t Ryane’s father—the thought cheered her
immeasurably, not that she was interested in him as more than a neighbor and a potential friend. Pulling her mind away from Ian, the unattached male, and back to the task at hand, she said, “Now, about that walk. You get the stroller and meet us at the front door. Did you know there’s an ice cream store around the corner?”
“Is that a hint?” Ian asked.
“No, that’s a warning. I’m addicted to ice cream and they make a mean chocolate-dipped-in-cherry cone.”
“My treat,” Ian said.
“That’s not what I meant,” she protested.
“I know, but it’s the least I can do.”
Allie sighed. “Ian, you just don’t get it. You don’t have to repay me.”
He shook his head. “You’re right, I just don’t get it.” He looked at the woman with the witchy black hair and brilliant blue eyes that reflected sadness as she stared back at him. No, he didn’t get it at all.
The trip to the store was made in relative silence.
“Chocolate dipped in cherry,” Allie told the girl behind the glass window.
“That can’t be good,” Ian said, making a face.
“You’ve heard of chocolate-covered cherries, right? Well, this is the same sort of thing.”
“Vanilla,” Ian told the girl.
“Just plain old vanilla?” Allie laughed. “I pictured you as more daring than that. I mean, vanilla? No sprinkles, no dips, just plain old anemic vanilla?”
“I like vanilla,” Ian said, giving the girl a nod that sent her scampering.
“It’s so ordinary,” Allie said. She didn’t know why she felt the need to tease Ian. Maybe it was his serious countenance. The small smiles she’d caught sight of made her want more. She wanted to see Ian smiling and laughing.
“Some of us enjoy being plain and ordinary.”
“I didn’t mean you were ordinary.” Allie gave him an appraising look. “No, I don’t think ordinary is a word anyone would use to describe you.”
“Should I say thank you or throw down the gauntlet?” Ian asked.
“You should turn around and take our ice cream cones from the girl.”
Ian did as he was told and handed Allie hers. Wheeling the baby with one hand, eating her ice cream with the other, Allie smiled at Ian. “Want a bite?” she asked, thrusting her cone at him.
“I don’t think so.” His nose crinkled as he grimaced.
Not the least insulted, Allie shrugged. “So, how was Anne?”
“Fine. Sleepy.”
“That’s to be expected. They’re probably giving her some strong pain meds.”
“I guess.”
She could hear the frustration in his voice and wanted nothing more than to soothe it away. “She’ll be fine,” she offered lamely.
“Yes, she will,” he said, as if his will was enough to make it so. Allie had a feeling that when Ian made up his mind, things happened.
An older woman walked toward them and stopped at the stroller. “Oh, what a beautiful baby.”
She leaned down closer to get a better look. “The three of you are a picture. It’s nice to see young families moving back into the neighborhood. You two still have that newlywed look about you.”
“We’re not married,” Ian said gruffly.
The woman’s eyes rose.
“We’re just babysitting,” Allie said, trying to circumvent his rudeness. Was she so unappealing that he was insulted by the mere thought of someone mistaking them as a couple? Well, that was fine, because Allie wasn’t interested. He was too uptight to interest her.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman said and hurried down the street.
Ian started down the street again and Allie and the baby had no choice but to follow. “So, want to talk about it?”
“About what?” he asked.
“About why you were so rude?”
“It was none of her business who we are and what we mean to each other.”
His strides were long and Allie practically had to run to keep up. “I don’t think she was being nosy, just making pleasant meaningless conversation.”
“I don’t have time for social talk and I don’t feel the need to talk about my personal life with strangers,” Ian said.
Allie could take a hint. She shut up and ate her ice cream. Ian could be as private as he wanted. She wasn’t interested in his personal life, just like she wasn’t interested in him as any more than a neighbor in need.
No, the shivery feeling in her spine had nothing at all to do with Ian Ryan. It was probably just a chill from the ice cream.
“Now, let’s just try this,” Allie whispered later in her apartment. Ryane had finished half her formula and was nestled in Ian’s lap, Ian’s finger, the SNS tubing taped to it, in her mouth. “When I count to three, you slip your finger out and I’ll slip the bottle nipple in.”
“Do you think this is going to work? I mean, she really screamed about it last night.”
“Last night she was starving and frustrated. Tonight she’s sleepy and has already had half a bottle. Nothing about babies is ever for sure, but I think we have a good chance.” She stood, bottle poised next to Ian’s finger. “One, two, three.”
He eased his finger out and she slipped the bottle nipple in. Ryane made a little grimace and then went back to sucking, this time on the bottle.
“We did it,” Allie exclaimed. It was always the same. Whenever she managed find a solution to a baby’s problem, she felt a rush of surprise that she’d managed it.
“You did it,” Ian corrected.
She shook her head. “No, this was definitely a team win. We did it.”
She pushed one of the many boxes out of her way and crawled into her chair. “Now, do you have any idea how you’re going to juggle things until Anne gets out of the hospital?”
“Not a blessed clue,” Ian admitted.
Allie suspected the admission cost him. Maybe it was his way of making up for being short with her earlier. “Well, I’ve been thinking.”
To Ryane, Ian whispered, “It’s always a dangerous thing when a woman starts thinking.”
“Don’t you listen to him,” Allie said to the baby. “Men always think they don’t need anyone, but we women know they always do.” To Ian she said, “We’ve been neighbors for three months, but I don’t have a clue what you do.”
“I run Ryan’s.”
“As if that explains everything,” Allie said, laughter in her voice. “Where do you run Ryan’s to?” she asked.
Ian gave her a chagrinned smile. He seemed more at ease than he was on their walk. The storm had passed. “I work with businesses, mainly small ones, and try to help them optimize their uniqueness. We look for innovative ways to market their products, ways to streamline their businesses, sometimes even set up computer systems that will strengthen their business and help them compete with large corporations . . .”
Ian was on a roll and talking with more animation than Allie had ever witnessed. She had no head for business and his explanation amounted to Blah, blah, blah in her head, but she nodded and tried to look enthralled. An animated Ian was every bit as attractive as a smiling one.
Not that she was interested in him. The stirring she felt in her stomach as she watched him was probably just indigestion, nothing more.
“Sorry,” he finally said. “I tend to go on. Anne says she listens to everything and absorbs about ten percent.”
“I guess Anne has more business savvy than I do, because I think I got about five. But I have to confess, I loved listening to you talk about it, Ian. When you talk about something you love—the business, Anne, Ryane—you don’t resemble the man I originally thought you were.”
“And that was?” he asked.
Allie smiled. “A suit. A man who only had business on his mind. An automated corporate robot. But you aren’t what you
appear to be. You really love what you do, don’t you?”
He nodded. Ian might think he was a private person, but Allie thought maybe he was using the word ‘private’ in place of the word ‘lonely.’ Ian Ryan suddenly seemed very lonely, and Allie wondered if there was anyone other than Anne in his life.
There was a lot more to Ian than she’d suspected. “Yes, I’ve learned lately that appearances can be deceiving.” She caught herself and switched subjects. “Well, back to Anne and Ryane. I work ten-hour shifts, four days a week, so I’m totally off on three days a week and clear to help out with Ryane. When I took the job at the hospital, it was with the understanding that I would be improving their breastfeeding versus bottle feeding ratio. So, part of my job is phone counseling, working with the new mothers in order to get their breastfeeding relationship off to a better start. I think I can talk to my supervisor and do it here, so . . .”
“Really, I don’t expect you to upheave your life in order to help.”
“Yes, I got that feeling, but I didn’t say you expected it, I just offered.”
He repeated the question he’d been asking since she first showed up on his doorstep. “Why?”
Sighing, Allie tried one more time to explain. “I don’t know where you’re from, but where I come from that’s what neighbors do, at least in my neighborhood. When Dad died they brought meals for weeks. Mrs. Daniels, next door, offered to keep us after school until Mom came home from work. And when Mom got sick, everyone pitched in too.”
“And now you’re going to do the same for me?” he asked.
“You know the old saying, what goes around, comes around? Well, I’m just adding a little good karma to my warehouse, remember? Now, how are we going to juggle our schedules tomorrow?”
“I don’t—”
“As I was saying, I try to be on the floor from six o’clock on, but a lot of my job is follow-ups, most of which I do on the phone. I could work until lunch-ish and be home afterward to watch Ryane, could you make that work for you?”
“Really, Allie . . .”
“It’s not a ‘Really, Allie,’ kind of question. ‘Yes, thank you, Allie, I can make that work,’ or, ‘No, Allie, could we try it this way instead,’ are your two options.”
