Chapter 22 Ryan
I’m standing outside of June’s house, looking at the name flashing on my phone that I can’t avoid any longer. Noah Prescott has been texting, emailing, and calling nonstop over the past few days. I’m afraid that if I ignore him any longer, he’ll send a carrier pigeon. Or worse, he’ll hunt me down himself.
“Hello?”
“There you are! I thought maybe you were dead or something.”
“Not dead. Just been trying to stay off the grid for a bit.” I glance at June’s door, wondering if she’s awake yet. I left her asleep on the couch. That woman sleeps like a brick.
When I woke up with her in my arms, I briefly thought about pretending I was asleep so I could savor the feel of her against me for as long as possible. But then I became aware of the painful sensation shooting up my arm, and I had to pry it out from under her. She didn’t flinch. I think I could have rolled her off onto the floor, and she would have stayed asleep.
I got up at my usual six-thirty time and made a pot of coffee (still no sign of life from June), shaved and changed into my running clothes (she hadn’t moved), and decided to go for a jog until she woke up. She could be awake in there now, and the thought has me wanting to end this call with Noah as quickly as possible.
“Yeah, no kidding. I was starting to feel like a jealous girlfriend for how many texts I sent you.”
“Well, you’ve got me now. What do you need?”
He sighs. “I’ve been trying to hold the investors for your answer like you said, but they are getting restless. I can’t hold them any longer. They said they want an answer by the end of the week or they offer it to Martin.”
I turn my back to the house and run my hands over my face. “End of the week Sunday?”
“Saturday,” he says, ruthlessly stealing a day out from under me. “Ryan, man, I can’t even believe you are hesitating on this. It’s the deal of a lifetime.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. I’m just not sold on it yet.”
“Why? Do you have other offers you’re entertaining?”
I glance back at June’s house. “Something like that.”
“I hate when you’re vague. It makes me feel antsy.”
I catch movement in the window and see June standing from the couch with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and over her head like a hooded cape as she walks back toward her room. She’s so dang cute. “Listen, I’ve gotta go, Noah.”
“Ryan, don’t you hang up on me ag—”
“You’ll have my answer on Saturday.” And then I hang up.
The heaviness I thought I escaped settles back over me, and I take another lap around the block to give June a little extra time to wake up without me around. Yeah, I’m such a nice guy that the only reason I’m delaying going inside is to give June some privacy. Not at all because my time of limbo has just ended, and I’ve got to make a decision I’m not sure I’m ready to make yet.
When I get back to June’s house, I’m drenched with sweat and breathing hard, but I’m no closer to a decision. I want to talk to June about the job offer, but I also don’t want to spring it on her, because I feel like we had a breakthrough last night.
I have a sinking feeling that saying something like Morning, June! Hey, so I’ve been meaning to tell you about this job of a lifetime I was offered that will literally eat up all my time and require my undivided attention for the next three years. Think I should take it? will only take us back three spaces. I will not pass go. No collecting two hundred dollars. I don’t want to worry her with something I’m not even sure I want.
I’ve put my career first for so long that I’m ready to put June first now. I want to take this relationship as far as she’ll allow it to go. So, for now, I need to keep it to myself. I still have a few days until I have to give Noah my answer, and I plan on using all of them to find out if June is ready for this relationship or not.
Walking into the house, I’m surprised to find her sitting at the table, still wrapped up in her fuzzy blanket, feet curled up in her chair, eating a bowl of cereal. She sees me step inside, and the spoon freezes in her mouth. Her gaze dips down and takes in my sweaty appearance and then darts back up to my face. She finishes chewing with a secret smile.
“Good morning,” I say cautiously as I approach her. She doesn’t respond, just holds that small grin on her face. “Are you about to dive into a freak-out and completely regret everything that happened last night?”
She slowly shakes her head no. It gives me courage to get closer. I stop just behind her and lean down to kiss the side of her neck. She makes a soft mmmmm sound that makes my stomach dip.
“So, I’ve decided when and where I want our first date to be,” I say against the warm skin of her neck.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Chicago.”
June pulls away, taking away my access to her neck, so she can look me in the eyes. “Chicago? Why?”
I take a seat at the table, facing her. “Because I have something special planned that can only happen there. If I only get one date, I intend on making it count.”
June looks oddly thoughtful. She’s hiding something behind those green eyes, and I want to know what it is. But I also know that she’s not the kind of woman to spill her secrets. It’s going to take time to get them all out of her, so I let it be.
“Please? I also want to show you where I live and the restaurant I’ve been working in.” I’m basically trying to throw sprinkles on top of a broccoli sundae, hoping to make it look more appealing.
June moves her lips from side to side as she contemplates it. I’m holding my breath. “Okay,” she finally says, and then a big smile cracks over her lips, and she brings another bite of cereal to her mouth. “Actually, I was going to say yes from the beginning. I just like watching you sweat.” She side-eyes my torso and arms.
“Is that right? You should have said something—I’ve got a lot more sweat under my shirt,” I say, reaching for the bottom hem of my shirt and lifting my brow.
“Ryan.” She says my name like she does when she wants me to behave. It only eggs me on.
I lift my shirt a few inches. “Is it hot in here or what?”
“Ryan, not the abs!” She covers her eyes dramatically with her blanket. “I’m just an innocent young woman.” But she’s laughing.
“Okay, fine,” I say, sounding deeply disappointed. “You can look now.”
June pulls down the blanket and squeaks when she finds me shirtless with a big grin. She rolls her eyes and grabs her glass of water. I only have enough time to blink before she tosses it on me to really teach me a lesson. Water goes everywhere. I, however, don’t flinch because I just went on a run, and the cool water feels amazing.
June stands up abruptly and stomps into the kitchen, mumbling something about making it worse and then brings back a towel. I offer to let her dry me off, to which she takes the towel and pops me with it.
The rest of the morning goes on like this, with June and me doing what we do best: teasing and flirting. I end up prying her soggy cereal out of her hands and dumping it down the drain so I can make her a proper breakfast. We both eat and talk over our second cups of coffee, and June tells me little tidbits of her life that I’ve missed out on over the last decade. I do the same.
But I notice anytime my topic veers into the realm of work, she freezes up, so I avoid the subject like the plague. Instead of talking about my job, she learns about the hot dog vendor I swear makes a better meal than any gourmet dish I’ve ever had, and I tell her about the little bistro where I spent most of my off time during culinary school.
“What was it like?” she asks, leaning forward.
It’s odd. I haven’t thought about that bistro much since I left France, but lately, it’s been sitting at the forefront of my mind. It feels good to finally let it out. “Honestly, it was nothing special. It was dark, and small, and only sat about fifteen people. But there was something so nice about it. They didn’t even have many options on the menu. Everything was simple, nonintrusive, and just what I needed after a long day of overanalyzing every single spice and herb on the planet.”
“Sounds nice,” says June with a soft smile that I want to swim in.
“Maybe I’ll get to take you there one day.” But shoot, I think I spooked her. The spell breaks, and she takes in a deep breath, looking around the table before standing up.
“Wow, when did it get to be so late? I’ve got to get to the bakery.” Suddenly, she’s the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, and she’s late for a very important date. And I know why. I just yanked her down in the water another inch, and she wasn’t ready for it.
Before she can walk away, though, I grab her hand and pull her to a stop and tug her down onto my lap. “Don’t do that,” I say, making her look at me.
“Do what?”
“Get weird on me again.”
She avoids my eyes by looking down at where her finger is running across my collarbone. “I’m not weird. You’re weird.”
I grin at her attempt at a burn and bend my head to catch her eyes. “I can’t help it, June. I’m trying to hold back, but it’s tough. I’ve been holding back from you since I was twelve. I don’t want to anymore.” I also really need her to stop doing that with her finger, because I’m trying to move slowly and respectfully with her, but my brain is trying to erase those words from my vocabulary.
June’s shoulders soften, and she slides her gaze to mine. She contemplates me for a second and then slowly bends forward to kiss me. It’s short. Her lips were barely on mine long enough for me to blink, but that kiss means more to me than any kiss I’ve ever had, because she initiated it.
I’m filled with the urge to go out and buy an important leather-bound journal complete with quill and ink so I can transcribe what just happened. November 15, June Broaden kissed me by her own accord. That’s the only thing I would ever write in that journal, because the memory deserves a monument all its own. It’s progress.
She’s smiling as she pulls away and then pokes me in my cheek where my dimple lives. “I’m trying. It’s going to take me longer, though, because I wasn’t expecting this, and I’ve been conditioning myself since I broke things off with Ben to believe that I can’t trust anyone.”
“I understand that.”
“Do you?” she asks, looking like she truly wants to know.
“I do.”
“Okay, good. Then don’t give up on me when I get weird.”
I clasp my arms around her waist. “I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“I promise, June.” I mean it. I’ll wait for her for as long as it takes.
She smiles and reaches up to smoosh my cheeks together. Not exactly the sexy turn I thought this conversation would take, but I can take one for the team if it means watching her smile.
“Stacy and I always do this after a serious conversation.” Ah. I see now.
I ask if she misses Stacy while my cheeks are still smooshed together, giving me a fish face.
She drops her hands. “So much. But I’m just trying not to think about it. Or call her a million times a day. I want to give her and Logan space to get acclimated in their new life.”
I laugh. “They’ve been together since junior high. How much acclimating do you think they really need?”
She laughs, too, and the sound lessens that weight that’s always on my shoulders. “You’re probably right.”
“Have you told her about us?”
“Are you going to be mad if I say no?”
“I’ll flip this table.”
“Then YEP. She knows everything.”
I shake my head and lean forward to kiss her cheek before picking her up and depositing her on the floor. “Tell Stacy. She’ll want to know.” Something tells me I’m not the only one June is worried will hurt her.
June and I don’t broach any serious topics again for the rest of the morning. She goes into her bathroom to shower and get ready for the day, and I make myself useful by snooping through the stack of papers on her counter. I notice that they are offers to buy Stacy’s half of the bakery.
My first thought is that I should add my name to the top. My second thought is to take that first thought and burn it to the ground. June doesn’t need me to help her run that bakery. She doesn’t need anyone’s help with it. I honestly don’t know why she’s entertaining offers when she should buy it herself.
But when she comes out of her room an hour later in a form-fitting, black, long-sleeve top, hair braided and draped over one shoulder, and tight jeans hugging her waist with holes down the legs that do more than hint at the soft tan skin living under them, I push the papers aside and decide we’ll talk about it later. She looks good. Better than good. This woman is a killer, and as I grab her jeans by the belt loops and tug her closer to me, I realize I’m dead.
I love her. I think I always have.
“June,” I say, dragging out her name to let her know I’m suspicious. “Why do you smell like me?”
She peeks up at me from under her long lashes and presses her lips together. She’s a kid who just got caught with a bar of chocolate smeared all over her face. “I was out of my bodywash, so I had to use yours?” She phrased it like a question, not a statement.
I shake my head at her. She used my bodywash.
She loves me.