After a moment, Stella pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “Can I ask you something, Ryan?”
“Okay,” I said, a little uneasy at the idea of answering questions.
She tipped her head, resting her temple on one knee. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I was just wondering what made you change your mind.”
I decided to be honest. “I saw you packing up your car and realized I didn’t want you to go.”
“Last night you didn’t seem to care when I left.”
“Uh, yeah, that.” I rubbed the back of my neck, which felt gritty. “Sorry. I was kind of a dick.”
“Kind of.”
“I guess that’s just my way of dealing with a situation or a feeling I don’t like. I sort of … turn everything off. Shut down.”
“Is it easy for you?”
“Yeah. It is.”
She thought about that for a moment, then she picked up her head and set her chin on her knees, looking straight ahead.
Tense, I waited for her to say something more, or feed me some therapist bullshit about how I shouldn’t repress my feelings and maybe if I talked more openly about my issues, I wouldn’t be so moody, but she never said another word. Maybe she remembered how I’d jumped down her throat the last time she asked about my past. I still felt bad about that.
But that didn’t mean I wanted to talk about it.
Eventually I stood up and grabbed the can of WD-40. “I should get going. I’ll see you at seven?”
She smiled at me. “I’ll be ready.”
There, I did it, I thought as I walked back to my house. Something normal. I’d asked a friend to dinner.
And Stella would forgive me, wouldn’t she? Maybe she would even come back to my house for dessert. I still had some apple pie left, and suddenly I could think of nothing better than licking the filling off her naked body.
Oh, shit.
I stopped on my back porch to adjust myself in my pants.
I’d probably be doing that all night.
Eighteen
Stella
As I’d suspected, Grams was thrilled about Ryan’s dinner invitation. Immediately she started in about what I should wear and how I should do my hair, and what shoes would be right for the evening, but I assured her I could get ready on my own.
I did put in a quick call to Emme, though.
“He asked me out to dinner,” I told her breathlessly, standing in front of the closet in my bra and underwear.
She gasped. “He did? When?”
“This afternoon. He came over and basically said ‘sorry I was a dick last night’ and asked me to have dinner with him.”
“Did he say why he’d been a dick last night?”
“Not really. He sort of said that’s just what he does when he’s in a situation he doesn’t like.”
“That’s kinda shitty.”
“It’s a defense mechanism.” I looked through the few tops I’d brought, disliking them all and wishing I’d packed something more flirty and sexy. That I owned something more flirty and sexy. “He’s actually not a dick at all, but I think he sometimes acts like one to avoid something he doesn’t want to feel. It’s like a mask he wears.”
“Oh, Jesus. Please don’t say that to him. At least not if you want to get lucky.”
“I’m not going to say that to him,” I said, rolling my eyes. “But I can’t help being curious about what makes him that way. His military service? His divorce? His childhood?”
“Just remember this is a date, not a session. Don’t ask him a bunch of questions that are going to kill the chemistry, okay?”
“Actually, it’s not a date. He was specific about that.”
“So what is it?”
“Dinner with a friend.”
Silence. “You know, I thought I had pretty bad luck in the romance department, but you might be edging me out with this one.”
“Just help me decide what to wear, okay?” I was getting impatient. I only had another twenty minutes before he’d be here.
“What are the options?”
I ran down the list of things I’d packed.
“Hm. That’s it?”
“Yes, Grams. Sorry I forgot to pack my corset and hoop skirt, but I didn’t anticipate meeting a guy up here.”
Emme sighed. “Okay, okay. Go with the white blouse, but leave a few buttons undone for once. Got any necklaces?”
“Two gold ones.”
“Wear them both and put your hair up in a loose bun. Shoes?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Nikes, loafers, or pink flats.”
“Flats. What’s the underwear situation, by the way?”
“Uh, it’s pretty basic.”
An even heavier sigh. “Next time you travel, I am packing your bag for you. And remind me to take you shopping.”
“Deal. I better go.”
“Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Which is what, exactly?” I couldn’t resist.
“Ha ha. Call me tomorrow. Mwah.”
We hung up, and I finished getting ready with a huge smile on my face. Maybe it wasn’t a “date,” maybe it wouldn’t lead anywhere, maybe after tonight I’d never see Ryan Woods again, but for the rest of the evening, I was his.
It was good enough.
A few minutes before seven, I heard a knock on the front door. I gave my reflection one last look in the mirror over the bathroom sink, stuck a couple more pins in my loose bun and wiped off most of my lipstick. Better.
Shoving my feet into my flats, I grabbed my phone and bag from my room, and started down the stairs.
When I saw him standing just inside the door talking to Grams, my heart stopped and I nearly missed a step. He looked gorgeous. Hair groomed. A closer shave. Dark jeans, brown leather dress boots and belt, light blue button-down beautifully ironed and fitted. Perfection.
I reached for the banister and caught myself before tumbling to the bottom of the staircase. He looked up, and when our eyes met, my whole body tingled—something that had never happened with Walter. Ever. I liked it.
“Hey,” I said, smiling at him. “You look nice.”
“You too.”
I turned to Grams, whose hands were clasped beneath her chin as her eyes went back and forth between us. She looked absolutely delighted. “You kids have fun,” she said, “and don’t worry about when you get back. I’ll leave the front door unlocked, Stella.”
“Okay, Grams. Thanks.”
“I’m just so tickled this worked out.” She beamed at us. “Enjoy yourselves!”
We said goodbye and went out on the porch, where Ryan put a hand on my lower back as we descended the steps. “So we have two options. We can take my truck, or we can take the bike. Which do you prefer?”
“I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle,” I admitted, the Nervous Nellie in me acting up.
“No?”
I shook my head. “I wanted to try a Vespa when I was in Italy once but I was too scared. Is it … safe?”
“Yes, I have an extra helmet and I promise I’m a careful driver, but if you’d rather take the truck, that’s fine too.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I’ll always choose the bike,” he said.
I decided to be brave. “Let’s do it.”
“You might want a jacket. Do you have one?”
“I have a blazer I could grab.”
He grinned. “Yeah, that’s not what I meant. You know what? I have an extra. It’s going to be big, but it’ll be better than nothing.”
“Okay.” The teenager in me loved the idea of wearing his jacket.
He ran inside the house to grab it and came out a moment later. As expected, it was big on me, but wasn’t that part of the kick of wearing something that belonged to a guy you liked?
He brought the bike out of the garage, then went back in for the helmets. When he handed one to me, I realized I’d have to take my messy bun down. I pulled out all the pins, stuck them in my purse, and shook out my hair.
“Okay,” I said, a little uneasy at the idea of answering questions.
She tipped her head, resting her temple on one knee. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I was just wondering what made you change your mind.”
I decided to be honest. “I saw you packing up your car and realized I didn’t want you to go.”
“Last night you didn’t seem to care when I left.”
“Uh, yeah, that.” I rubbed the back of my neck, which felt gritty. “Sorry. I was kind of a dick.”
“Kind of.”
“I guess that’s just my way of dealing with a situation or a feeling I don’t like. I sort of … turn everything off. Shut down.”
“Is it easy for you?”
“Yeah. It is.”
She thought about that for a moment, then she picked up her head and set her chin on her knees, looking straight ahead.
Tense, I waited for her to say something more, or feed me some therapist bullshit about how I shouldn’t repress my feelings and maybe if I talked more openly about my issues, I wouldn’t be so moody, but she never said another word. Maybe she remembered how I’d jumped down her throat the last time she asked about my past. I still felt bad about that.
But that didn’t mean I wanted to talk about it.
Eventually I stood up and grabbed the can of WD-40. “I should get going. I’ll see you at seven?”
She smiled at me. “I’ll be ready.”
There, I did it, I thought as I walked back to my house. Something normal. I’d asked a friend to dinner.
And Stella would forgive me, wouldn’t she? Maybe she would even come back to my house for dessert. I still had some apple pie left, and suddenly I could think of nothing better than licking the filling off her naked body.
Oh, shit.
I stopped on my back porch to adjust myself in my pants.
I’d probably be doing that all night.
Eighteen
Stella
As I’d suspected, Grams was thrilled about Ryan’s dinner invitation. Immediately she started in about what I should wear and how I should do my hair, and what shoes would be right for the evening, but I assured her I could get ready on my own.
I did put in a quick call to Emme, though.
“He asked me out to dinner,” I told her breathlessly, standing in front of the closet in my bra and underwear.
She gasped. “He did? When?”
“This afternoon. He came over and basically said ‘sorry I was a dick last night’ and asked me to have dinner with him.”
“Did he say why he’d been a dick last night?”
“Not really. He sort of said that’s just what he does when he’s in a situation he doesn’t like.”
“That’s kinda shitty.”
“It’s a defense mechanism.” I looked through the few tops I’d brought, disliking them all and wishing I’d packed something more flirty and sexy. That I owned something more flirty and sexy. “He’s actually not a dick at all, but I think he sometimes acts like one to avoid something he doesn’t want to feel. It’s like a mask he wears.”
“Oh, Jesus. Please don’t say that to him. At least not if you want to get lucky.”
“I’m not going to say that to him,” I said, rolling my eyes. “But I can’t help being curious about what makes him that way. His military service? His divorce? His childhood?”
“Just remember this is a date, not a session. Don’t ask him a bunch of questions that are going to kill the chemistry, okay?”
“Actually, it’s not a date. He was specific about that.”
“So what is it?”
“Dinner with a friend.”
Silence. “You know, I thought I had pretty bad luck in the romance department, but you might be edging me out with this one.”
“Just help me decide what to wear, okay?” I was getting impatient. I only had another twenty minutes before he’d be here.
“What are the options?”
I ran down the list of things I’d packed.
“Hm. That’s it?”
“Yes, Grams. Sorry I forgot to pack my corset and hoop skirt, but I didn’t anticipate meeting a guy up here.”
Emme sighed. “Okay, okay. Go with the white blouse, but leave a few buttons undone for once. Got any necklaces?”
“Two gold ones.”
“Wear them both and put your hair up in a loose bun. Shoes?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Nikes, loafers, or pink flats.”
“Flats. What’s the underwear situation, by the way?”
“Uh, it’s pretty basic.”
An even heavier sigh. “Next time you travel, I am packing your bag for you. And remind me to take you shopping.”
“Deal. I better go.”
“Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Which is what, exactly?” I couldn’t resist.
“Ha ha. Call me tomorrow. Mwah.”
We hung up, and I finished getting ready with a huge smile on my face. Maybe it wasn’t a “date,” maybe it wouldn’t lead anywhere, maybe after tonight I’d never see Ryan Woods again, but for the rest of the evening, I was his.
It was good enough.
A few minutes before seven, I heard a knock on the front door. I gave my reflection one last look in the mirror over the bathroom sink, stuck a couple more pins in my loose bun and wiped off most of my lipstick. Better.
Shoving my feet into my flats, I grabbed my phone and bag from my room, and started down the stairs.
When I saw him standing just inside the door talking to Grams, my heart stopped and I nearly missed a step. He looked gorgeous. Hair groomed. A closer shave. Dark jeans, brown leather dress boots and belt, light blue button-down beautifully ironed and fitted. Perfection.
I reached for the banister and caught myself before tumbling to the bottom of the staircase. He looked up, and when our eyes met, my whole body tingled—something that had never happened with Walter. Ever. I liked it.
“Hey,” I said, smiling at him. “You look nice.”
“You too.”
I turned to Grams, whose hands were clasped beneath her chin as her eyes went back and forth between us. She looked absolutely delighted. “You kids have fun,” she said, “and don’t worry about when you get back. I’ll leave the front door unlocked, Stella.”
“Okay, Grams. Thanks.”
“I’m just so tickled this worked out.” She beamed at us. “Enjoy yourselves!”
We said goodbye and went out on the porch, where Ryan put a hand on my lower back as we descended the steps. “So we have two options. We can take my truck, or we can take the bike. Which do you prefer?”
“I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle,” I admitted, the Nervous Nellie in me acting up.
“No?”
I shook my head. “I wanted to try a Vespa when I was in Italy once but I was too scared. Is it … safe?”
“Yes, I have an extra helmet and I promise I’m a careful driver, but if you’d rather take the truck, that’s fine too.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I’ll always choose the bike,” he said.
I decided to be brave. “Let’s do it.”
“You might want a jacket. Do you have one?”
“I have a blazer I could grab.”
He grinned. “Yeah, that’s not what I meant. You know what? I have an extra. It’s going to be big, but it’ll be better than nothing.”
“Okay.” The teenager in me loved the idea of wearing his jacket.
He ran inside the house to grab it and came out a moment later. As expected, it was big on me, but wasn’t that part of the kick of wearing something that belonged to a guy you liked?
He brought the bike out of the garage, then went back in for the helmets. When he handed one to me, I realized I’d have to take my messy bun down. I pulled out all the pins, stuck them in my purse, and shook out my hair.
