Chapter 12
Three, Two, One… Fire!
Charlie
Ryan, I’m sorry about what my father said ... No.
Ryan, I know about what my father said to you, and while I appreciate you trying to do the right thing… No. Shit.
My dad’s an asshole, but I’m not going to let him get in the way of our relationship. I like you a lot and you like me too. Ugh! This is not working.
I stomp a foot on the crappy vinyl floor. My brain is mush, my stomach’s a churning mess, and there’s a burning in my chest no amount of Tums can seem to fix. I rub the sore spot on my sternum and lean my back against the refrigerator.
“Hey, calm down,” Stella says, rubbing my arms. Her pretty brown eyes search mine as though she can see through them and into my muddled thoughts. “The guy is crazy about you. The fact that he did what he did actually proves that, if you think about it. He will jump at the chance to have you back.”
“But what if he didn’t break up with me because of what my dad said, but because he didn’t want to deal with the drama?”
“Then he’s an asshole who doesn’t deserve you, anyway.”
I nod my head, but her words only increase the rumbling in my belly.
A sudden pounding on the door makes us both jump.
“Coming,” Stella shouts. We exit the kitchen, Stella’s hand rubbing circles across my back as we approach the door. She stops short, spins around so we’re face to face and pins me with a no-nonsense look. “You have nothing to worry about. Right?”
“Right,” I agree even though I’m pretty sure that’s a lie.
“Good. Now, go get your man back.” She gives me a peck on the cheek, making me smile. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”
Stella scrambles around me and down the hall, while I resume my procession toward the door, feeling like I’m about to greet a firing squad.
I swing the door open and immediately forget everything I rehearsed when I see Ryan’s beautiful smile. A breathy, “Hi,” is all I manage to say.
Ryan doesn’t reply. Instead, he steps through the doorway, takes my face in his hands and kisses me.
I didn’t realize just how much I missed this, missed him until now.
His kiss is so soft, yet firm and when his tongue slips between the seam of my lips, the tip barely grazing my own, I melt.
I slide my hands up his chest and around his neck; at the same time he wraps his arms around my back and waist and pulls my body flush against his.
His kiss is deep and ravenous and my whole body responds.
The churning in my belly has turned into somersaults and my panties are already growing damp with arousal.
I want him right here and now and screw it if Stella hears, but I can’t.
Not until we’ve talked. Reluctantly, I end our kiss and snuggle into his arms. We’re both panting—our chests brushing together then apart on each breath. “Ryan—”
“I’m sorry,” he interrupts. “I am so fucking sorry. I went by your house and your dad threatened to cut you off and I panicked. Please say you’ll take me back.”
Buoyed by his words, I let out a relieved laugh. “Well, I never really accepted you dumping me anyway so…” I shrug.
He chuckles and kisses me again, this one softer, more exploratory, but he pulls away too soon and I might have fallen over in my effort to follow his lips if he wasn’t already holding me upright. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he says again.
I shake my head. “Don’t be. It’s my fault. I should have warned you about my dad. I was afraid if you knew how uptight my parents were, it would scare you away.”
He brushes the hair out of my face and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. “I was afraid if you knew how crazy my brothers were, they would scare you away.”
“Then, I guess we’re both idiots.” I laugh.
“Morons, truly,” he agrees and kisses me again, then stops suddenly, brows furrowed, and asks, “how did you find out about what your dad said to me?”
I give him my most mischievous smile. “It’s a secret.”
“It was Garrett, wasn’t it?”
I spit out a laugh. “What gave it away?”
Smirking, he says, “I just know my brothers.” He brushes a hand through my hair, eyes following along. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” I say, biting my lip. “By the way, for future reference, my parents don’t pay for my school. I’m on scholarship.”
He throws his head back dramatically. “Son of a bitch.”
I laugh and run my fingertip across the rough cotton of his shirt. “Well, that’s what you get for not talking to me before going into sacrificial lamb mode.”
“Noted,” he says, kissing the top of my head.
I snuggle into his chest, my cheek resting against his soft pectoral muscle. He’s deliciously warm and my whole body relaxes into him, all the tension from the past couple of days falling away. “What changed your mind?”
“About?”
“About us. I had this whole lousy speech I’d planned on giving you, but you kind of beat me to the punch.”
“Oh. I figured your dad told you.”
My head snaps up. Our eyes lock. Why does that sound so ominous? “Told me what?”
“He came by the shop and apologized.”
I shove against Ryan’s chest. He releases me, and I stumble back, almost tripping when my heel hits a discarded pair of shoes. “He did what?”