Sway shook his head once as he frowned. “That's not...”
Something in her response clicked. She didn't want to answer the question. Maybe she didn't know the answer yet. Asking her at that moment was interrupting whatever she was already trying to establish in her head. She already said she was trying to figure him out, that was the reason. He didn't need to have another answer.
“Is Tawny going to be okay with you eating chocolate cake?” he asked, changing the subject very deliberately.
“Not exactly,” she admitted with a more relaxed smile. “Are you going to tell on me?”
Sway's lips twitched. “It's not my secret to tell.”
They stood in silence for nearly a minute. But it was a warm silence. One that Sway wanted to eat with a spoon and caramel sauce. What was up with his craving for sweets lately?
“Why the chocolate cake? A whim?” he asked.
“It helps me when I'm stuck,” she answered, shaking out of her silence and pulling a cooling rack out of a cupboard.
“Stuck? Writer's block?” he asked.
“No.” She set the rack on the counter and rubbed the back of her neck with one hand. “I don't believe in writer's block. It's more just... I was distracted.”
“And cake will help?”
She faced him, looking unfocused and internally frustrated. “I don't know,” she admitted. “It usually does, but...”
“What's distracting you, sassy pants?”
Her cheeks glowed red again and she looked away. Sway couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face.
“Me?” he asked, trying to regain eye contact.
Ryan cleared her throat and her face took on a new expression. Bored apathy. Sway was liking this game. She was expressive to a certain point, then she had practiced responses designed to shut down the average person.
Good thing Sway had never learned to bend to society's expectations.
“Show me where you work,” he declared, backing out of the kitchen. “In fact, show me your house. Give me the tour.”
“What?” she asked, her tone giving away her panic. “Tour? What? No, where are you going?”
But Sway was already climbing the stairs. He might very possibly get himself thrown out. But after her silent admission that he was her current distraction, he knew she'd be back.
He reached the top of the stairs and strode down the short hall, stopping at the octagon shaped window that faced the front of the house. Obviously two bedrooms, one on each side. Turning around, he waited for Ryan to join him.
Wet cat.
Sway had heard the expression, but had never really seen it.
Until right then.
Ryan stopped her petite frame at the top of the stairs and glared at him openly. “You're crossing boundaries,” she declared, crossing her arms over her chest.
Sway knew he was grinning. “Ask me to leave and I will. No hard feelings, no offense taken.”
He held his breath, waiting for her to say it. To tell him to leave. It was a risky bet he was playing, but his blood hummed with the excitement of it.
She remained silent, her eyes held steady on him. Not wanting him to leave, but too afraid to declare it. He lifted his eyebrows. “Which room is yours?”
Clive shoved his large body by her, causing her to break her stern glare at him to keep from falling down the steps. The big dog walked into the room at Sway's right.
“Good dog,” Sway said, giving Ryan a wink before following Clive.
Ryan's room was not what he was expecting.
The rest of the world would no doubt agree that Sway had more than enough experience with the opposite sex. Being in a woman's bedroom was not an abstract idea to him. It was something he had done plenty of times, but he never stopped loving the adventure of it.
A woman's bedroom was her haven. It held all of her secrets, whether she realized it or not. It was where she slept, where she felt safe, where she rested.
As he matured, so did the rooms of the females he explored. The mystery never got old. The journey familiar, yet new. He'd witnessed the rise and fall of boy band posters, frilly bedding, and the overzealous use of vanilla candles. Some rooms were crazy messy and made him break out into a sweat just standing in the doorway, some looked like they were ripped from the pages of a Martha Stewart magazine.
Ryan's room?
For starters, her bed wasn't made. Not that that was an issue, but the blankets were in a pile in the center of the bed. Blankets that were dark burgundy and forest green. The bed frame was secondhand, a deep espresso color.
He did a circle, taking in the whole room.
Clive had a bed in the corner. A dresser sat under a large window, which probably let in a ton of light during the day. On top of the dresser was a pack of gum, two pairs of earrings and one silver locket. The closet door was open, revealing her underwhelming amount of clothes. And only two pairs of shoes.
Ryan joined him, leaning her back against the wall beside the doorway. Still grumpy.
Sway's heart did a weird thing in his chest. He wanted to say that it squeezed, but that seemed a little too theatrical. It took some sort of action, though. Something painful and terrifying and... new.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Ryan asked, watching him suspiciously.
“Where are all your things, babe?” he asked.
She frowned in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
Sway slowly turned around again, looking at the bareness of it all. “You don't have any pictures on your walls.”
Her head twitched slightly, so did her shoulder. She glanced around the room and shrugged stiffly. “I'm the only one who would see it, and I don't spend a lot of time in here.”
He decided to ignore the practical nature of her answer. Because there was something she wasn't telling him. No one gets to be in their late twenties without acquiring things. Without showing proof of a past of some kind.
Nodding to the room across the hall, he moved that direction. “What about this bedroom?”
“It's empty,” she said, following him as he confirmed her words.
He paused in the hallway, frustrated with his lack of answers. He huffed out a breath and returned to her bedroom.
“What are you doing, Sway?” she asked, sounding tired. But she wasn't. He could tell she wasn't tired, but he couldn't tell what she was actually feeling. She'd closed him off in that regard.
He went more fully into her bedroom and took a deep breath, but all he could smell was the cake downstairs. Pressing his lips together he suddenly dropped to his knees and lifted up the bed skirt.
“This isn't weird at all,” Ryan said dryly even as she chuckled. “Are you training to be a private investigator? Because you need more practice.”
Sway ignored her as he spotted an object near the head of the bed. He crawled around the side until he reached it and then pulled out a book.
“Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald,” he read aloud. His eyes lifted to hers and she shrugged.
“I've been reading it before bed. It kinda bums be out, to be honest. I probably won't finish it. Too melodramatic for my taste.”
“Says the girl who relates to Buck.” Sway pointed the book at her and stood up. “I'm going to figure you out, Ryan.”
Her eyebrows dipped. “There's nothing to figure out. I'm pretty boring.” She cocked an eyebrow and rolled her eyes. “You just pointed that out with my lack of wall décor.”
She had no idea.
She didn't have a clue as to how unusual and very not boring she had been just the first day he had met her.
The timer on the oven began to sound and she jumped to life. “Oh, cake!”
Sway chuckled and followed her, tossing the book on the bed. “You like food I take it.”
“I love food,” she said, descending the stairs. “Food is amazing. If there was a way to marry food and not have a social stigma attached to it, I would do it.”
“I have
a friend who believes the same thing,” Sway said, thinking of Harrison.
“Yeah, is he single?” she jested as she rounded the corner to the kitchen.
“No, he fell in love with a nerd who can cook.”
Ryan stopped what she was doing and sighed. “That's the best thing I have heard, possibly ever.”
Sway decided not to watch her rear end this time as she removed the cakes, and instead, slipped out of the kitchen to find her office.
The door was open and the light was still on, so he didn't feel too invasive. Clive, his new shadow, pushed against his hand with his nose until Sway scratched behind his ears.
“So this is where she keeps her secrets,” Sway muttered.
A line of framed book covers bordered the far wall and he stared at them until they finally registered in his conscious mind.
“Sullivan Summers. Holy shit.”
During last year's tour, Sway had been introduced to her books by Zelda Fitzpatrick, their photographer and Harrison's now fiancée. He'd been hooked from the first one and often expressed out loud his desire to meet this author who had turned his idea of romance and love a little bit upside down.
She was notoriously private. He couldn't find anything about her on the Internet and anyone who seemed to have contact with her, wouldn't talk. It drove him crazy and he had almost convinced himself she didn't actually exist.
Until this moment.
The office was clean but cluttered. Three huge book shelves were packed full. Notebooks piled on the desk surrounding her laptop. Pictures were tacked up haphazardly around the room, along with posters and framed art.
This is where she felt safe.
No wonder her bedroom was bare.
“The cake is done,” she said softly by his side.
He looked at her with new eyes.
This little woman, so small in stature but so large in presence, this one tiny person had single-handedly changed his life. She had no idea, of course. She was probably used to being adored. People falling in love with her words was the normal for her.
“You're Sullivan Summers,” he said deliberately, half-expecting her to deny it.
“Only on the weekends,” she said smirking playfully.
His eyes dropped there. How was he supposed to proceed now? He'd imagined many times what he would say to her if they ever met, what he would ask. But now that the moment was here, it had weirdly passed him by.
Because now she was a swirl of an elusive author that he adored and this brown-eyed mystery girl that he was just getting to know.
A thought struck him. Road Sway and Home Sway. Two personas that existed together but had decidedly different habits.
Ryan and Sullivan. Different? Or the same?
Was this part of the little riddle she'd dropped earlier about her relating to Buck? He couldn't recall enough of the details of the story to be sure, but didn't the sled dog have two separate identities by the end? A domestic sled dog who remembered and loved his master, and the wild in him that ran free.
He needed to read that book again.
“Let's try that cake,” he suggested, walking quickly back to the kitchen.
“Wait,” she said from behind him, “that's it?”
He turned around when they reached the living room and raised one eyebrow. “You're suddenly comfortable with me exploring your space?” Sway needed time to think. Time to let her think. They both needed time.
Her mouth opened and moved wordlessly before she snapped it shut and frowned at him. “No. I just don't understand why you changed your mind.”
The hurt and confusion she tried to hide in her eyes didn't escape him. It had been a long time, if ever, since someone had tried to get to know her. He softened his gaze and restrained himself from reaching out to touch her, make sure she was real at the same time alleviating the intense pressing in his chest. “I didn't.”
She took a slight breath, but he didn't stay to let her study him. They were both doing the same thing, trying to figure each other out. Too quickly. He needed to rein it in before they overwhelmed each other and they both exploded. Because that was the only conclusion he could envision.
When he entered the kitchen a very familiar song began to play and he closed his eyes.
Frank Sinatra's “My Way.”
And now he had a way to change the subject.
“This is my song.”
“What? How?” she asked, entering the kitchen behind him.
He smiled as he turned to face her. Slipping one arm around her waist and taking one of her hands in his, he began to step carefully around the large kitchen.
“Frankie was arrested on charges of seduction once, you know,” he said, enjoying the feel of her in his arms and her lightness of foot.
Her face was flushed a bright red, but her eyes were less guarded. They were bright and dilated. Her mood could be elevated so quickly, he barely had to try. Sway filed that tidbit away for later.
“I was thrown off a college campus for my seduction tactics. You should really Google me,” he said, sending her out with a twirl and then bringing her back in.
“I do enjoy the research aspect of my job,” she said breathlessly.
The song progressed and he sang along with the words, making her smile brighter. He waggled his eyebrows at her and she threw her head back and let out a sexy throaty laugh. One that was unexpected and wonderful and addicting.
He twirled her once more at the end and brought her in for a full embrace as the song concluded.
“Are you about ready to get back to work?” he asked as she rested her cheek against his chest.
“Yeah, actually. That was kind of perfect.”
He smiled. “Good.”
***
Ryan glanced up from her keyboard when Sway rolled slightly to prop himself up on the other elbow.
They'd had cake. Then she went back to work.
And Sway didn't leave.
Instead, he went and got The Call of The Wild and joined her in her office. She plugged in her headphones and dove back into her story. He sprawled out on the floor next to her and read.
Clive was resting his big head on Sway's legs.
Ryan was deliberately ignoring what was happening in her belly. Instead, she focused on the swift way the story was pouring out of her.
It had nothing to do, at all, with what she was feeling.
Feelings were dangerous. Feelings were distractions.
Feelings only led to disappointment.
Chapter 5
Explosions
“What do you mean you just got home? Where have you been?” Tawny asked, her irritation coming through loud and clear despite their broken cellular connection.
“I mean,” Sway said with a small smile as he rolled his tired neck on his shoulders in Tawny's kitchen, “that I just got home and I'm feeding your sea monkeys right now.”
“You listen to me, Schaeffer. You're supposed to be house-sitting. How can you house-sit if you're not there?”
Sway chuckled. “Relax, Tawny. I was right next door.”
Silence.
Sway tucked the phone against his ear and shoulder as he carefully measured the food and dumped it into the water. He screwed the cap back on the tube and moved to the sink to wash his hands.
It wasn't until he was drying his hands with a paper towel that Tawny spoke again.
“Explain to me very slowly and very carefully what you were doing next door.”
Sway sighed and gripped the phone in one hand again, placing his other hand on his hip. “Ryan came over to borrow some...” He stopped as he remembered that Tawny probably wouldn't approve of the cake that was made. And consumed. Almost entirely. “Toilet paper.”
“Toilet paper?” Tawny asked in obvious disbelief.
“Yep, she was fresh out. We got to talking and she invited me over and we hung out all night.”
Tawny's voice was deadly calm when she responded. “Ryan, my Ryan? Pathologically shy Ry
an Zacherson, who won't work out in a gym simply because there are 'other people there,' just came over and asked to borrow toilet paper from the hot rock star next door?”
Sway scrunched his face up. Lying to Tawny was going to be hard. And possibly hazardous to his health.
“Yep,” he said tightly.
“Damn you, Sway!” she hollered into the phone and he held it away from his ear slightly. “I told you to stay away from her!”
“Calm your tits, Tawnster,” Sway said darkly. “Number one, I'm not the douchebag you think I am. Number two, all we did was hang out. She worked, I read. I didn't mean to stay all night long. It was a complete surprise when the sun came up this morning.”
“She wrote all night long?” Tawny asked, sounding more concerned than upset now.
“Yeah, and I read. Though I fell asleep for a little while and ended up with a very stiff neck.” He rubbed said neck with his hand.
“She just let you stay all night? While she wrote?” Tawny asked.
“Yes. I'm not the asshole you seem to believe I am. Some people like me,” he said.
“Don't get snotty with me,” Tawny admonished. “Everyone likes you. It's just... Ryan is very private.”
“I already figured that out. By the way, you could have given me a heads up that she was Sullivan Summers. It was all I could to refrain from fangirling all over her living room,” he said sardonically.
Tawny chuckled. “She would not have liked that.”
“No,” Sway agreed soberly.
“Shit, my flight is boarding,” she muttered.
“Where are you this morning?” Sway asked.
“One flight away from the edge of reason,” she said dryly. “Or, as the locals call it, Miami. I have to go. Talk to you later.”
“Bye, Tawny,” Sway said before hanging up and sliding his phone back in his pocket. Not before noticing it was almost dead. He'd just bring his charger back over to Ryan's.
Neither he nor Ryan had been to sleep yet. She had gotten up to let Clive out and he said he'd better feed the sea monkeys. But he was planning on going right back.
He trekked into the bedroom and grabbed his charger, shoving it in his pocket. He looked down at his rumpled clothes and decided he'd have time to shower and change later. But he wanted to make Ryan breakfast.
Brand New Sky Page 6
