Delivery Girl (Minnesota Ice #1)

by Lily Kate

  “Oh?” She lets the question hang, as if not wanting to press. “And she is…”

  “Gone.” I clear my throat. “Passed away several years ago.”

  “Andi…” She shakes her head, the look in her eyes so filled with sympathy, I find my heart cracking in two. “We don’t have to do this now. Why don’t you find Ryan?”

  “No,” I murmur. “I’d really, really love to learn.”

  She pulls me into a hug, surprising me as she holds on for longer than is natural. When Mrs. Pierce lets go, she wastes no time jumping into business, asking me to pull out sugar, flour, pots, and pans.

  The time passes quickly, and it’s a blast. I can’t say I’ve become a lefse master when we’re finished—after all, I am Italian and not an ounce Norwegian—but by the time dinner is ready to be served, my face is red from the warmth of the stove, my fingernails are dusted with sugar and flour, and my heart is full.

  In addition to lefse, I helped prepare the sides for the meal—buttery mashed potatoes, crispy asparagus, tender kernels of sweet corn. The whole experience has been far more enjoyable than I expected.

  Through the process, Ryan checks on me several times—at first, quite often, as if worried his mother has kidnapped me. After I reassure him I am helping voluntarily and loving every moment, he grabs a beer and joins Lawrence in the garage where athletics of some sort blare on the television.

  “I didn’t mean to make you prepare the whole rehearsal dinner,” Mrs. Pierce says. “I hope I didn’t steal you away from Ryan too much. I know he’ll have an earful for me later tonight, just as soon as you jump in the shower and he gets a moment alone with me.”

  “I’ll talk him down,” I say with a laugh. “Plus, I don’t really understand sports, or whatever they’ve got on the TV. This is much more fun, I promise.”

  “Really?” She looks so hopeful, so bright-eyed that I’m tempted to squeeze her again.

  “Absolutely.” I grin. As weird as it sounds, I want to be part of this family. I hardly know them, but something tells me I belong. “I’m going to run upstairs and change quickly, if you don’t mind. I have flour everywhere.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “It’s more than okay.”

  I can’t tell her that everything is not quite okay. In fact, with each passing step, my mood worsens. As I ascend to Ryan’s bedroom, my heart begins to race, and I realize that everything is far from okay.

  I’d fling myself onto the bed, but I don’t want to get flour everywhere, and I probably don’t need to be so dramatic. As I head into the room, I can’t help but wonder if I’m letting this stupid game of pretend get out of hand. Right now, it feels like I’m going to be hurt at the end of it—and I might not be the only one.

  CHAPTER 39

  Andi

  Once I’ve shed my clothes, I suddenly feel too tired for a shower.

  I collapse face first on the bed and lie there, a light cloud of flour puffing off of me. I can’t bring myself to care about the mess. Sheets can be washed, but my heart cannot be magically fixed, and I’m worried. After this weekend, we don’t have to see each other again, and that sucks.

  “Hey, honey,” Ryan says from the doorway. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes,” I mumble into the pillow. “Great.”

  He moves soundlessly across the room and sits on the bed. A hand comes to rest on my back. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t bullshit with me, Andi. We’re friends. Friends don’t do that.”

  I lie still for a moment longer, wishing the smushy bed would swallow me whole. So many of my problems would be solved if I just disappeared into this mattress. Then I start thinking about what he said, and that word—friend—grates on me until finally, I roll over.

  He’s looking down at me, and I almost lose my breath, nearly forget what I’m going to say. His eyes are milk chocolate, dripping warmth. He hasn’t removed his hand, and it slides across to my stomach, low, just over my pelvis.

  It sends tingles to my sensitive areas, and I’m instantly turned on. I have half a mind to pull his beautiful lips to mine and kiss him senseless, but for once, I’m too upset to think about sex.

  “Friends,” I say.

  His fingers tighten, pressing against my skin. It’s tempting, distracting, but I fight the urge to pull him to me. “I thought we agreed—”

  “I know what we agreed,” I say. “It was my stupid idea to agree to it in the first place.”

  “I’m the one who came up with the original idea. All you did was throw sex into the mix, and I can’t say that I complained.”

  “Of course you didn’t complain! You weren’t supposed to complain. This was supposed to be easy, simple. Fantastic sex, no strings attached—other people can do it, so why can’t we?”

  “What’s bothering you, Andi?”

  His eyes are on me, serious, watching as I consider my response.

  Finally, I gesture to his fairytale house, to the warmth, the coziness, the sounds of family showing up downstairs to celebrate the marriage of one of their own. “I don’t belong here. I’m pretending.”

  “I asked you to do that.”

  “We’re lying to your mother!” My voice screeches a few octaves higher. “She’s a really, really awesome woman.”

  “Except the whole walking-in-on-us-without-knocking thing, she’s okay,” he says, trying for a joke. When he doesn’t get a reaction from me, he pauses. “I’ve dated girls before—my brothers have too—and not all relationships work out. I can just tell her we broke up in a few months. She’ll get over it.”

  His words are like a stab to my heart.

  “She taught me how to make lefse,” I say. “A family tradition. She let me help prepare a meal for the family—a family I don’t belong to. In ten years, there might be some picture of me with you at this wedding, and she’ll be wondering why she wasted any time on me at all, and—”

  “Andi,” he interrupts my almost manic voice. “Please, you’re overthinking this.”

  “I am not.”

  “You’re here as my friend. I care about you. So what if we tacked on the label of girlfriend? It doesn’t make a difference; the label doesn’t change anything. It’s just you and me spending time together like we have been these last couple months. We don’t have to stop being friends after this weekend.”

  “Friends,” I say again. “Sure.”

  “I’m an adult, you’re an adult. As long as we’re happy and we’re not hurting anyone, then what’s the matter?”

  “I’m not happy.”

  “What?”

  I slap a hand over my mouth. I didn’t mean to say that; I’m not even sure it’s true. The words just popped out, and now I’m stuck with Ryan, his hand frozen just below my belly button, his eyes locked on mine and asking silent questions.

  I take a moment to gather my thoughts, and I sit up in bed, his hand sliding off my waist. I decide to be honest. “I said I’m not happy.”

  “Which part don’t you like?”

  “I don’t feel right about lying to everyone.”

  “Then don’t lie.”

  “What?” It’s my turn to be confused as I watch him watch me. “Isn’t it a little late for that? I don’t want to spoil Lawrence and Lilia’s weekend.”

  “Don’t lie to them, then.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not understanding.”

  “Come with me to the wedding tomorrow as my girlfriend.”

  I squint at him. “I’m already your fake girlfriend, that’s the problem.”

  “I didn’t say fake. I said girlfriend.”

  I blink again. “Are you just saying this to appease me? Then you’ll ‘break up’ with me in two days? It’s the same thing.”

  “Maybe I’m not being clear.” Ryan stands, his long legs carrying that athletic figure over to the door and closing it. This time, he locks it, and when he turns back, his eyes are ablaze with intensity. “I want you to be my
girlfriend. The whole deal. Exclusive. Mine. I’m-not-sharing-you-with-anyone-else sort of girlfriend. No breakups, no fake anything. Be mine, Andi.”

  “Ryan…” My heart is leaping at the possibilities, but I can’t get my hopes up. “Are you serious?”

  “Look, I didn’t want to get into anything with you, either. I truly didn’t. My career’s on the line if I fuck up, and your career is just starting to take off—I’m sure of that, too. We live across the country from each other. The timing of us meeting is horrible, but I can’t let you go.”

  “I want to be your girlfriend,” I whisper. “I missed you more than I thought it was possible to miss another person while you were away.”

  His eyes light up, and he’s crossing the room before I have time to process what’s happening. One of his hands swoops beneath my legs, adjusting me on the bed so I’m spread eagle, my belly exposed as my shirt slides up.

  “Say it again,” he murmurs against my neck. “Tell me you’ll be mine.”

  “Yes, Ryan, I love you.”

  He doesn’t answer me, but he doesn’t need to. He works the button on my jeans free with the other hand. For the second time today, my pants are coming off, and his are still on.

  “No,” I say firmly. “If you’re taking my pants off, yours are coming with.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice.” His eyes flash. “I can’t wait a second longer.”

  “Are you sure now’s the time?” I gasp, sitting up far enough to help him get rid of his jeans. I nod toward the door. “There are people arriving downstairs, and dinner is in ten minutes.”

  “I said I wanted to take my time, but I can’t wait. I need you now. I’ll make it up to you later. Slow, sweet, whatever the hell you want, but now—”

  “Now,” I say, urgent with my need. “There’s no time for slow.”

  He agrees by kicking his pants to the floor. We survey each other for several long seconds before everything bursts into a rush of desire, need, and latent sexual tension that’s been burning since the morning I left his house weeks ago.

  As I reach for him, he’s pinning me to the bed. Somehow, he’s gotten a condom on again, and it takes him all of one second to feel that I’m ready.

  He slides in, slow, steady, exhaling a loud breath. “You are so perfect, sweetheart.”

  I raise my hips to meet his thrusts, incapable of speech. His hand grips the back of my head, his mouth tears at my lips in a fusion of need and hunger, and we begin to move together.

  My hands are on his back, nails digging into his skin as I hold on for the ride. His breath swirls with mine until it’s impossible to tell where his ends and mine begins. I’ve never felt more on fire. The only things I’m aware of are the tiny waves of pleasure building, building, building in my stomach.

  A cry slips through my lips as I reach the ledge, holding on, waiting for him to join me as we catapult off the steepest of cliffs. Ryan groans, his lips pressing hard against my neck, and I let go. Together, we erupt, fireworks smoldering toward the ground as we let the tremors carry us into a blissful, post-sex haze.

  “Holy cow,” I say, clapping a hand against my forehead. “That was incredible.”

  “I was going to say something earlier,” Ryan whispers against my ear, launching into a long overdue, luxurious kiss. “And then I forgot.”

  My mind is destroyed, so I’m not even sure what he’s talking about. I close my eyes and enjoy every sensation. “That’s okay,” I say. “I’m pretty happy with how things turned out.”

  He waits until I open my eyes, and then meets my gaze. “Actually, I remember now.” He cups my cheek in his palm, running a thumb over my lips. In a voice husky, he murmurs, “I love you too, Andi.”

  I open my mouth to respond, my arms pulling him against me, when we’re interrupted for the third time today.

  “Dinner!” Mrs. Pierce calls from downstairs. “Come eat, kids!”

  “They’re going to know we had sex,” I say, giving him a conspiratorial smile. “They’re going to think we’re addicts.”

  Ryan looks completely undisturbed by the thought, nuzzling against my neck, holding my hand tight in his grip. “Who cares? We are dating, after all.”

  I grin, my smile so bright I feel like an idiot. I want to stay here all day.

  Unfortunately, that’s not possible.

  “Ryan, is Andi in the shower?” Mrs. Pierce calls through the door. “Come down and greet your brothers! We’re eating in five minutes whether you’re here or not—unless Andi needs more time.”

  I shake my head no, already in motion as Ryan climbs off of me.

  “Be right down,” he yells back. “She’s just changing her…” He looks at me with a blank expression.

  “Clothes?” I hiss.

  “Clothes,” he finishes. Lowering his voice, he looks to me. “I blanked.”

  I shed the rest of my clothes as I head to the bathroom. Luckily, I’ve packed plenty of undies and a nice cocktail dress that works for any occasion. I rinse off in record time, shimmy into my dress, throw a sweater over my shoulders, tie my hair into a semi-fancy messy bun, and re-emerge from the bathroom.

  “Damn,” Ryan says, straightening a shirt over a nice pair of slacks. “You look amazing. We should have sex more often.”

  “Are you saying I don’t normally look great?”

  His eyes widen. “No! No, not at all. I just meant—”

  I interrupt his babbling with a hard kiss to the lips. “I’m joking. Couples do that you know. Ready for dinner?”

  He takes my hand in his and, together, we descend the steps.

  At the bottom, a herd of Pierce boys wait for us.

  “Anderson, this is my girlfriend,” Ryan says with a smile, introducing me to a taller Pierce brother. This one looks older, distinguished, as if he’s left behind the hockey ways for more civilized activities. “Meet Andi. She’s from Los Angeles.”

  I smile, basking in the introduction as I shake Anderson’s hand.

  My girlfriend. I replay the words in my head for the next five minutes as Ryan introduces me over and over to his family members. It’s music to my ears, and I know then that I can’t be happier than I am right now.

  CHAPTER 40

  Andi

  “Andi made the asparagus,” Mrs. Pierce says, handing it across the full table. “It’s to die for. Beck, try it. I promise you’ll like it.”

  Beck, one of the middle brothers, wrinkles his nose. “I’ve never liked anything green—no offense, Andi.”

  “Really, it’s nothing special,” I say. “Just something my mom taught me.”

  “I’ll have some,” Anderson says, giving me a polite smile. “Even though I can’t believe my mother would put you to work before you had the chance to settle in.”

  Mrs. Pierce frowns at her son. “We had fun in the kitchen, didn’t we, Andi?”

  “We did!” I scoop asparagus onto my plate then pass it to Ryan. “It was a lot of fun. I’ve never made lefse before.”

  “Did she pay you to say that?” Brody, the youngest, asks. He’s got an impish expression, and I can imagine that as the smallest of five boys, he had to learn cleverness at an early age. “One time, Mom paid me to tell Dad that—”

  “Hey, now,” Mrs. Pierce interrupts. “Civil conversation at the dinner table, please.”

  Mr. Pierce, a tall, stately gentleman, looks like he’s coached his fair share of hockey teams. He has a small scar above his eyebrow, salt and pepper hair, and a twinkle that lightens his otherwise intimidating stature.

  He leans in toward his wife. “What didn’t you tell me, dear?”

  Mrs. Pierce reddens. “Try the asparagus, Daniel.”

  Ryan passes the plate to Brody who passes it to his father, and luckily, the topic is dropped. Ryan takes the moment of peace to rest a hand on my leg and squeeze. Next to us are Lawrence and Lilia, the Pierce parents are at either end of the table, and the rest of the brothers are scattered in between.

  “So,
Andi, tell us about yourself.” Mr. Pierce folds his hands, ignoring the steaming food on his plate. “We’re happy you could join us for the wedding. I hope you don’t mind the informality of the rehearsal dinner.”

  “Yeah, we prefer simple,” Lilia takes the question over, her eyes shining. “My parents are arriving just before the ceremony. They were supposed to be here tonight, but their flight was delayed and they’ll have to fly out in the morning.”

  “The wedding is really small,” Lawrence says. “We wanted to keep things simple.”

  “Mostly, we just want to get married.” Lilia kisses him on the cheek. “Friends and family only.”

  “Friends.” Lawrence leans heavily on the word, slurring it a little bit, having overindulged again. “You never did say, Ryan, how long the two of you have been dating.”

  Ryan’s hand clenches in my lap. “Long enough.”

  “Tell us how you met!” Mrs. Pierce chirps.

  “Well,” I hesitate. “Ryan called Peretti’s—”

  “Her dad owns the best pizza shop in Los Angeles,” Ryan interjects. “The best.”

  “I introduced it to him,” Lawrence says with a smirk. “And to her.”

  Lilia frowns at her fiancé. Apparently too much alcohol brings out the dickhead version of Lawrence. He hasn’t said anything awful yet, but it feels dangerous, as if we’re dancing around dynamite, hoping it won’t explode.

  “I delivered a pizza and accidentally bumped my car into the back of his,” I say. “Ryan was an absolute gentlemen about the whole thing, even though I felt horrible.”

  “We exchanged information, even though there was hardly any damage,” Ryan says, gliding over the fact that I’d left my bumper behind like a big, fat breadcrumb. “We ran into each other a few more times through Peretti’s, and—”

  “And he surprised me at my comedy show on the night of Lawrence and Lilia’s party,” I add. “Didn’t see that one coming.”

  “And she did amazing!” Lilia claps her hands. “The best I’ve seen.”