14. Ryan
14
RYAN
Her face stayed hidden while I sorted through all the data she’d just given me. The waitress dropped off our appetizer, but one look told her it wasn’t time to ask for our order.
“Where’s your mom now?”
“I don’t know,” she said through her hands. The pain in her voice was obvious.
“And your brother?”
“He lives in Seacrest. I tried to tell you that he’s a regular at The Pub. That’s why I was there that night. We’re super close.”
“So, why did you share all this now?”
Her fingertips slid down so that her eyes peeked out. “I don’t fucking know,” she whispered. “Maybe so you’d know why I was acting like a street urchin in this fancy-ass restaurant?”
I breathed a laugh and gently pulled her hands away from her face. “You can find other ways to get out of trouble than the truth. I think you told me because you wanted someone to finally understand what it’s like to be in your shoes. And now, I definitely see what you mean.”
“Yeah. I’m an impostor.”
“Try a self-made woman.”
Her blue eyes glittered. “I’m trying,” she whispered.
I drew in a deep breath and sat back in the booth. Gesturing for the server, I glanced back at Nica. “Try harder. Look like you belong here—because you do.”
She shook herself from her shoulders to her head and tapped her cheeks. “Right. Okay. I can do it. I belong here.”
And with that, her cool, coy demeanor slid back into place. It was impressive as hell. I had no problem admitting that. I grinned as I watched her make eye contact with the server to order a steak, then sit back and sip her cocktail.
Dinner blurred past. She told me about growing up watching the Commodores. I told her about getting scouted from my travel team in high school. We split dessert discussing the team.
“Okay, but is Quentin nice ?”
I laughed. “Yes. Well. Yes.”
Her eyes crinkled with an ah-ha look.
“Wait. I’ll explain. He’s Quinn. He’s fiercely loyal to the team and intense. He also has a great sense of humor. It’s just that when it’s game day, the guy’s a brick wall, literally and emotionally. You can’t talk to him. And he’s superstitious as hell.”
“Mm, speaking of! What are your superstitions?”
I quirked a brow. “Is this on record or off?”
Her eyes cut up and to the side, thinking. “Probably definitely on.”
“Fine. Well, you know about Yoda, which I would prefer to remain private. But stuff you can publish… I shave the morning of a game at eleven-eleven a.m. Think of it like a Zamboni making fresh ice.”
“Crease maintenance?”
“Something like that. And, uh, oh. I have a four-leaf clover taped on the inside of my helmet.”
That made her jaw drop. “Oh, em, gee, you are so Irish.”
I laughed at her delighted giggles. “I was born in Ireland, goofball. My mom is from there.”
“Do the accent then!”
“No fucking way. Your ears would bleed, and I’d make a fool of myself.”
She pouted, but her cheeks were pink from laughing.
“Your turn for the spotlight.” I stole the bite of Boston cream pie she was angling for.
“Ugh. What now?”
“Why Quinn? What is it about him that made you launch the page?”
“Oh. Well, it started as a goof. My friends and I were out drinking and watching the game a couple years ago. The commentators started highlighting the Commodores’ new goalie. I took one look at him and thought, damn . We all did. So we started googling him. Before I knew it, I’d made the profile on a dare. I kept at it because…”
“Because?”
“Well, one, because it was a hit. Two, because it’s the Commodores—my team. Three, he is easy to fangirl over.”
“But you could’ve profiled any player. That was Dustin’s rookie season. Why not him?”
She sucked on her spoon and looked me up and down. “I have a thing for goalies.”
Oh, really? My lips snagged in a smirk. “Is that right?”
Her cheeks turned pink again. “Uh-huh.”
“Elaborate.”
She huffed and swiped the last bite of dessert. “Basically everything you said in our first interview. They’re like the spinal cord of the team. They’re integral, but they stand alone. They spend the whole game in the crease, as you say, and yet you carry the team. Win, and you’re a hero. Lose and it doesn’t matter how the offense played. It’s on your shoulders. I admire the personality that lets you stand up to that kind of intensity. And, ha. I like how it makes you quirky AF, too.”
I liked how she went from “they” to “you” during that explanation. “Well, gosh. When you put it that way, we are pretty badass.”
She gave me those eyes again. “Mm-hm.”
A corner of my brain tried to remember that this woman had rejected me. But in that booth, in the low light with her gaze holding me, it was hard to remember why the hell I couldn’t lean in and kiss her. And everything about the look she was giving said I wasn’t crazy to want to.
“Anything else for you two?”
I swallowed a groan as the waitress reached to take the plate. We shook our heads, and I paid the bill. At least Nica didn’t skulk her way to the exit.
We hurried out to the car. She gave me her address, and we took off. When I was on the highway, she rummaged in her purse. “Do you realize that I’ve barely asked you anything on record today?”
“Ugh. I was hoping you’d not noticed.”
She opened her phone and tapped record. “No such luck. Okay, so. You said not married, no kids. Tell your fans, Ryan Molloy. Are you available ?”
“I guess so.”
“You guess so?”
I shrugged. “My fiancée left over a year ago. She said she needed time. After a while, I had to assume that was a permanent situation.”
“Damn. That sucks.”
“It’s just life. But I’d appreciate that not going on the internet.”
The phone aimed at me again. Her voice cleared. “Well, don’t leave us any thirstier than we already are, Goalie. What’s your type? I bet you like nice girls. Dainty little darlings.”
“Mm, nah.”
“Nah?”
“Nah. I prefer women who know what they want and aren’t afraid to get it for themselves.”
“Does he like bossy girls?”
I chuckled. “I don’t think bossy gets very far with me, no. I like brave women.”
“Sounds like trouble to me.”
I glanced at her. “Doesn’t it, though?”
The phone went back into her bag. “So then. What is your favorite position?”
The air grew opaque with tension. My pulse thudded in my neck. I tightened my hands on the steering wheel and said, “No way am I okay with that being published.”
“The phone’s away, Goalie.” Nica’s throaty pitch damn near stole my breath.
“Fine. My face between her legs. It lets me collect the most data about what she likes.”
“I see.”
“Do you?”
She breathed a low laugh. “Fair point. I guess I don’t.”
“And you? If this is off the record and all, what’s your answer?”
“Damn. Uh, can I say it doesn’t matter?”
I cut my gaze to her and didn’t speak.
Nica huffed. “It doesn’t matter. That’s my answer. It’s all fine or not fine depending on how he is in bed.”
“ Fine ? What a descriptive term.”
“I said what I said.”
She’d said a lot. Whether she knew it or not, Ms. Nica Solance had just told me that she was sorely in need of an attentive lover. A data point my lizard brain gleefully picked up and ran with, no matter how the civilized part of me wanted to stay neutral.
Nica leaned her seat back and hummed. “Enough talking. I’m sleepy after that meal.”
“Close your eyes. I’ll have you back in no time.”
The car got peaceful. Traffic was light at that time of night, and I pulled up in front of her building in less than two hours.
“Nica? You’re home.”
She stirred and blinked up at me. “Hm? Oh. Okay.”
I jumped out and walked her to the entrance of the old prewar building. She climbed two steps and faced me, hugging herself tightly. “Thank you. This was a blast.”
“It was the least torturous shopping trip I could picture. Goodnight, Trouble.”
“Hey, Goalie?” she called when I’d turned for my car.
I spun back around, and she crooked a finger to bring me closer. We were nearly face-to-face with her on the stair, but she kept her arms crossed.
Nica wet her lips. “I want you to know how sorry I am about our first meeting.”
I shook my head and stepped back, ready to run from this topic forever. “Forget it. We’ve discussed it and?—”
But she grabbed my jacket and held me in place. “Listen to me, please.”
I shut my mouth.
“I didn’t turn you down. I left because… I didn’t have a room there, and I didn’t want you to know that. So instead I, uh. I slept in my car.”
That took a long moment to sink in. “You did what?”
She rolled her eyes. “Not a big deal. I just waited for the ferry overnight. But I couldn’t bring myself to use you like that. I would’ve had to explain in the morning why I couldn’t go to my own room. Why I didn’t have any other clothes. Why my hair was different.”
“Your hair?”
She flipped a long strand over her shoulder. “It’s not mine. I can’t sleep in this.”
My gaze flickered back to her face. “So you either presumed that I’d let you sleep over or that we wouldn’t be done until morning.”
“I… I didn’t… I guess I thought you’d let me sleep there.”
I let out a tsk. “You always have underestimated me.”
“You’d have kicked me out?”
Knowing I should ask first and not able to give a damn, I reached out and held her chin. Nica’s hands floated from my shoulders to my arms as she swayed into me. With her breath on my lips, I whispered, “I’d have kept you up all night, Trouble. Well into the morning if you could take it. I know you think I’m a nerdy goalie, but trust me. The way I wanted you that night? The way you kissed me? No way would you have been on the early ferry.”
Her breath came in ragged gasps. “Ryan. I’m sorry. I wanted you so much. I just knew it would be trouble.”
“Wanted. Past tense?”
“I’m supposed to be interviewing…”
“Past tense, Nica?”
She swallowed hard. Her elbows locked, putting distance between us. I could see her working for an enigmatic smile, but the storm in her eyes wouldn’t abate. “If I say yes, I’m a goddamn liar. But if I say no, not past tense… If I invite you upstairs now… If, for fucking once, I let myself be reckless… Then there is no way in hell I don’t catch feels. There is no way I can be cool about this one.”
Good. Don’t be cool. Just let us be whatever we want to be.
She sucked in a deep breath. “So yes, Ryan. Past tense.”
“You goddamn liar.”
“Bet your ass.”
And then she gripped my coat and yanked me to her. My eyes barely had time to close before we were a tangle of lips and hands. Her kiss was different this time. Rough and damn near panicked in a way I couldn’t understand. I didn’t like this frenzy that swirled between us, but I knew I was part of it. Knew that I wanted to kiss her so fucking bad. That I wanted my hands all over her. I wanted to slow us down, to make this real.
I wanted more. But if this was all I got, then dammit, it would have to be enough.
When my hands snuck into her jacket to glide up her waist, Nica ripped her mouth from mine. A strangled cry slipped out of her.
“That never happened. Understand?”
“Nica, I—” I started.
But she turned and ran inside.