Chapter 12 Gianna
Gianna
FOUR YEARS AGO
I only stall the pickup twice trying to leave the Fernando Garage.
Once on take-off, and a second time at the lights.
Ryker’s in the passenger seat, rummaging through the glove compartment.
Papers rustle around before he pulls out one of my old sketchbooks.
He runs his fingers over the brown faux leather cover. I’d forgotten about that one.
‘Can I see?’ he asks.
I nod, glancing over from the road to watch his reactions. He flicks through the pages, turning the book to study different angles, before stopping on one page.
My fingers tighten around the Camino’s wheel at the sight of the last charcoal portrait piece I ever drew. Pa’s arm is around my shoulders as we lean in front of the Mustang in the garage. I stopped drawing and painting for a while after that one.
‘Your dad was cool.’ Ryker smiles, giving my leg a squeeze.
Even though my chest tightens, I manage a smile. ‘He was the best.’
As we round the corner in the town centre, my eyes catch on the sign for Paws on the Coast.
‘Oh, hey.’ I jerk upright, shaking away the heaviness. ‘Do you mind if we stop here? I want to check on something.’
‘You’re in control here.’ He snaps the book shut and places it back in the glove compartment. ‘I’m along for the ride.’
I pull into the driveway, turning down the music so I can see better. Ryker allows silence as I reverse park. We jump out and I see I’m taking up two car spaces. Ryker looks at me with a question in his eyes.
I shrug. ‘We’ll be quick.’
He laughs and hooks an arm around me, slowing his steps to stay in line with mine as we head inside. The bell jingles with our entrance.
‘Hey Gia, how were your classes today?’ Dr Aimee asks as she files away a few papers.
Two of the regular volunteers behind her shoot glances Ryker’s way and giggle between themselves.
I know I’ve never been the only giggling girl, but my insides flare with extra heat and a wave of possessiveness washes its way into my bones.
Ryker leans on the counter and offers Dr Aimee an easy smile, completely oblivious to the effect he has on people.
But that’s just Ryker. He doesn’t have to command the room – he owns the space just by existing in it.
‘Class was class,’ I answer. ‘You know that puppy from yesterday? Did you find his owner?’
‘No.’ Dr Aimee sighs. ‘Sadly, he’s not microchipped and no one’s come looking for him. I’ll call the pound tomorrow to transfer him. I’m giving him fluids but can’t keep him, with the back kennels so full.’
‘The pound? Really?’ My heart breaks at the thought.
Moving around Ryker’s large frame, I pull up the partition and make a beeline into the back room, heading right to the puppy.
He stands up as soon as he sees me, his whole body swaying as he wags his tail wildly.
I take him out of the cage, holding him close with a tight squeeze.
His fur is soft, and he licks and nibbles at my fingers.
‘I wish I could keep you.’ I kiss the top of his head.
Kneeling down, I let him have some freedom to move; he jumps on my chest and plants more slobbery kisses on my face. I smooth my hands over his body and he rolls onto his back, enjoying the attention.
Ryker kneels beside us and scratches his belly. ‘Do you want to?’
‘Want to what?’
‘Keep him.’
‘Of course! Look at him,’ I croon. ‘Ma would kill me, though.’
‘She’ll get over it.’ He turns to face Dr Aimee, who followed us to the back room. ‘I’ll pay for whatever he needs. We’ll take him.’
‘Ryker!’ My eyes widen. ‘I don’t think … What about—’
‘Gianna, relax. Look at how he’s looking at you. You were meant to find him.’
I look down to where the puppy still has his big paws in the air and his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. My heart softens. ‘But what if Ma really won’t let me?’
‘Then he can live with me, but be yours,’ he offers easily. ‘You know I live on my own.’
‘He’s a Ridgeback,’ Dr Aimee says, with a question to her tone. ‘He’ll be a big boy.’
‘Even better.’ Ryker smiles widely. ‘Chihuahuas are mean. Small dog syndrome is a real thing.’
‘Do you want the day to think about it?’ Dr Aimee offers.
‘Yes,’ I say as Ryker assures her, ‘No.’
He turns to look at me. ‘It’s alright. Trust me. This guy’s gonna be the best friend ever, I can tell.’ He turns back to Dr Aimee. ‘I’ll sign the papers.’
‘I’ll still need to monitor him tonight,’ Dr Aimee says. ‘He was very dehydrated. You can pick him up tomorrow.’
‘That’s fine,’ Ryker says.
‘I’ll get the paperwork ready.’ Dr Aimee adjusts her glasses before turning away.
‘I can’t believe this,’ I mutter. Ma is absolutely going to kill me. But when I look down at the puppy’s big paws and brown eyes, I know she’ll fall in love with him too. Like Ryker said, she’ll come around. I hope.
‘What should we name him?’ I ask Ryker, watching as he revs up the pup.
He looks the puppy over and pokes at his pod belly. ‘He’s a bit chunky. What about that?’
‘Chunky?’ I frown. ‘You can’t name a dog Chunky.’
I don’t know why I even asked, given his new nickname for me isn’t any good.
‘Chuckie then?’
I’m about to shrug his suggestion off, then stop. ‘That’s perfect.’
After giving Chuckie another squeeze, I put him back in the kennel and Dr Aimee hooks him up for more fluids. Ryker signs all the paperwork and pays the adoption fee.
We leave, the door jingling behind us. The smile still lingers on my face until we see the Camino.
My jaw nearly hits the ground at the green paint splashed across the windscreen and hood.
A commotion behind us makes me turn. I see the Empire City boys from yesterday hanging out the windows of an Aston Martin.
‘Booker Bay trash!’ they bellow with laughter.
Ryker’s hands become fists as he rushes after them, but their vehicle pulls away with a smoky trail. He turns to me with worry shining in the depths of his eyes.
‘Why are you on Erik Lasso’s shit list?’ Ryker’s voice turns serious.
My eyes widen. Damn it. ‘Is that who that is?’
Everyone knows Erik Lasso’s reputation, but not because he’s ECU’s star point guard and not because his dad played in the NBA, but because he plays dirty.
I know The Prank isn’t exactly clean … but throwing toilet paper on a building is a lot different to breaking a defenseman’s nose.
Erik’s the type of guy you cross the street to avoid.
I didn’t know what Erik looked like, but even if I did, I would still have stopped him and his friends from hurting Chuckie.
‘We were acquainted yesterday morning, when they were attacking Chuckie,’ I explain.
Ryker’s nostrils flare. ‘We’ll deal with him later.’ He frowns at the paint. ‘We’d better get this shit off before it dries and does damage. Keys.’
He holds out his hands, and I toss him the keys. He opens the door for me before climbing into the driver’s seat. We take a left and drive to the self-service car wash. Jumping out of the vehicle, Ryker hands me a few dollar bills.
‘Can you turn the machine on, Little Suspect?’
Heat rushes to my cheeks at the nickname rolling so easily off his tongue now.
At the machine, I fiddle with the options until I hear a spray of water hitting the truck.
I turn and can’t help my eyes from travelling down Ryker’s body.
His black t-shirt rides up with his movements, revealing his toned abs and a deep V that leads … Oh my god. Again? Get it together, Gia.
My throat goes dry and I fight between the opposing urges to look and to look away.
Ryker releases the trigger of the pressure washer, stopping the water and hands the gun to me before grabbing the brush handle perched on the opposite wall. He scrubs down the hood, paint mixing with the soap suds.
‘Give the truck a spray?’
I rinse the hood, watching the rainbow of colours. He’s cleaned the roof too, and I get up on the tips of my toes to spray it. Ryker hides his laugh as my body stretches as far as I can go, but there’s a spot in the middle of the roof I can’t reach.
‘Sorry, I didn’t think.’ Ryker reaches for the hose. ‘Here, let me help.’
‘No, I’ve got it.’
I jerk the hose out of reach, but the handle catches on Ryker’s fingers, sending water directly into his face.
My hand instinctively covers my mouth as I gasp.
Long black strands stick to his forehead and when he whips his eyes open, his gaze meets mine with a look that instantly makes my heart leap into my throat.
‘Did you just—’
‘It was an accident,’ I blurt as he brushes the dripping strands from his face.
His eyes seem brighter as the water drips from his brows. He reaches for my face, gripping my cheeks between his fingers.
‘An accident, huh?’ He smooshes my face against his, laughing.
‘Stop!’ I press against his chest, forcing distance between us. My belly aches and it takes a moment for my breathing to calm. He steps forward; I step back.
‘Give me the hose.’ Another step.
I shake my head. ‘Nuh-uh.’
I turn to run, but he’s too fast, and he wraps his arms around my waist, holding me close.
He spins us around and a squeal leaves my lungs as I press on the hose’s trigger, sending the spray into the air.
Water showers down around us. Cold liquid seeps into my clothes, making the fabric stick to my skin.
Ryker releases me, and I feel the slippery metal of the truck against my back. His arms shoot out either side of me, caging me in place. Our laughter fades and our eyes meet. He leans in, his warm breath against my skin.
‘It really was an accident,’ I murmur, feeling my body shake.