11. Ryan
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RYAN
The glow of Seattle sprawls in every direction.
The city lights catch in the windshield, running in streaks over the dash.
The night air pushes through the cracked window, sharp enough to bring goosebumps to my skin, cold but not punishing.
I glance over at Rory, strapped in tight in the passenger seat.
She doesn’t know where I’m taking her. That’s the whole point.
The only sound in the car is the engine and her slow, steady breathing. Every few seconds, I glance over and catch her watching the city, eyes wide and blue and impossible to fucking ignore.
“I know that look,” she finally says. “You’re up to something.”
I keep my eyes on the road as we climb higher, winding through streets lined with cedar and trimmed lawns. “Who, me?” I tease as I reach over for her soft hand. I bring it to my lips for a soft kiss. “I just want to enjoy a little peace and quiet with my girl.”
That earns me a sidelong glance and the tiniest hint of a smile.
We pull up in front of my favorite park. I kill the engine, grab the jacket from the back seat, and walk around to her door.
“My hero,” she drawls, but her voice is softer than usual.
I hang the jacket over her shoulders and place my hand at the small of her back, guiding her up the gravel path. She leans into me, and my pulse kicks into overdrive as her curves press against my body.
The clearing opens up, grass glistening dark under the moon.
There’s the same battered stone wall at the edge.
I steer her straight to the spot where you can see the Space Needle lit up like it’s putting on a show just for us.
The black water of Puget Sound cuts through the city below like a shadow, all slow and heavy.
She comes to a stop, both hands resting on the wall, and just looks.
“Wow,” she breathes. “It’s even better than I remember.”
I memorize the moment. The wind tosses her hair, wild and dark, and the city turns those blue eyes into something damn near electric.
I let her have the silence for a second, but my pulse is hammering so loud I’m shocked she can’t hear it.
She cocks her head like she senses the shift. “You’re acting weird,” she says.
I step behind her, hands braced on either side of hers against the stone. “Just thinking.”
“Dangerous,” she snorts.
I laugh, low and quiet. “Yeah. Dangerous.”
I draw in a deep breath and loop around so we’re face to face. The moonlight is enough to catch the shimmer on her lips, the curve of her cheek. Her hair blows around her face.
My hand finds her jaw, thumb tracing the spot just beneath her ear. I tuck a stray wave behind it, careful, because I know how much the gesture gets to her. I do it anyway.
Her breath catches. She knows something is up.
I drop my voice so low it barely makes it out of my chest. “I fell in love with you the first time I saw you,” I say as my heart pounds away in my chest.
She blinks. That’s all she does, but her fingers curl into a fist on the wall like she’s bracing for impact.
“I can’t picture my life without you in it. Without that smart mouth. Or your crazy family. Or even the way you hog the covers.”
She chokes out a laugh, but her voice is shaky.
I shove my right hand into the inside pocket of my jacket.
I drop to one knee, letting the gravel bite through my jeans. The light is perfect. The city throws shadows across the grass, and the Space Needle glows like a trophy I couldn’t give a shit about, because Rory is right here.
When I pop the ring box open, the diamond inside is so clear and bright it throws a scatter of light onto her face. It’s not huge, but it’s classy and beautiful, just like her.
I look straight up into her bright blue eyes and blurt out the words I’ve been practicing in my mind for the last several days. “Will you marry me, Rory Fox?”
She just stands there, both hands clapped over her mouth, eyes filling in real time. First one tear, then a second. Her shoulders shake, but she doesn’t make a sound. For a minute, I start to worry.
Then she reaches down, real slow, and runs her finger across my cheek.
She drops her hands, starts nodding like she can’t stop, and finally manages, “Yes. Oh my God, yes.”
My lungs finally unclench. I can’t remember the last time I felt this fucking alive.
I take her left hand and slide the ring onto her finger. I stand and pull her into my arms.
She’s shaking, but she’s laughing, too. One of those laughs that turns into a choked sob. I smooth her hair, kiss the top of her head.
Her face stays pressed against my chest, but her left hand crawls up, bunching in the front of my jacket. Her fingers dig in, showing off the ring to the empty night.
My girl is trembling so hard I’m scared she’s going to shatter in my arms. I press my mouth to the top of her head, breathing her in, but it’s not enough. I need more. I want her wild and laughing. I want her whole fucking heart.
So, I tip her chin up and cover her mouth with mine.
She tastes of tears and peppermint Chapstick. Sweet and sharp. The kiss hits like a sledgehammer. Her lips part, and I slide my tongue inside, claiming her, showing her exactly what forever means. Every sound she makes goes straight to my cock. Fuck me, I might combust on this hilltop.
Her hands fist in my shirt, yanking me closer, like she’s afraid I’ll vanish if she lets go. Not a chance in hell that’s happening. I suck her bottom lip, biting just hard enough to make her gasp.
“I love you,” I whisper against her mouth, my voice all gravel.
“I love you, too.” She smiles up at me as I lock my arms around her. She melts against me, soft and perfect, and when she finally pulls back, her eyes are shining.
We just stand there, the two of us braced against the overlook wall, the city burning below.
I never thought I’d find this kind of peace. But it’s right here with Rory, the love of my life.
My hands keep finding her. Hair, cheek, waist. I’m starving, but it’s not desperation anymore. It’s just the crazy need to keep her close, to make her safe, and to never let the world creep in.
She whispers something about the ring. I smirk, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. “You like it?”
She looks up at me, eyes shining. “It’s perfect. Feels like I’m dreaming.”
“Nah. This is real, tiger.” I lean in and rest my chin on her mess of hair. “There’s nothing more real than this.”
It hits me, standing here with her, that I’m done running. Done second-guessing myself. My whole life has been chasing the next win, the next season, the next big thing.
Now? It’s simple. I work hard, come home to a woman who gives as good as she gets, and fall asleep knowing she’s in my bed and calling me hers. No drama. No bullshit.
Just love, loyalty, and maybe a little Italian family craziness on the side.
Fuck. I’m one lucky bastard.