He wants one thing from a woman.
And when he gets it, he’ll be gone.
I know how this would go if I gave in to the flirtatious little dance we seem to have going on. I’d have sex with him. It’d be great because, look at him. I mean, my mouth has been watering since long before we came to the restaurant. We’d have a few weeks of fun, and the minute I started to get attached, the excuses would start.
They are all the same. Guys like Ryder. Men in general.
I have three brothers. I know the best that men can be, and I know they are self-righteous, immature, selfish, and every other shitty thing on the planet. Too bad this one is so incredibly freaking hot.
I focus on finishing the birds and sipping my ice water, until Ryder finally says something.
“Wait…are you drawing those birds? The two from outside?” He’s staring across the table, peering at my work.
“Yeah.”
“I swear they were trying to attack me when we got out of the car.” Ryder reaches a hand across the table. “Can I see that?”
I hand him my menu and then lean over to inspect Cora’s work. “I love that,” I tell her, pointing to the flaming-pink hair on the Lady Meatball. “You know what I like to do? Can I show you something?”
Cora nods, and I reach over and open my hand for a crayon. “Give me any two colors,” I say, “doesn’t matter which ones.”
Cora hands me turquoise and orange. I nod appreciatively. “These are going to go really well together. Look.”
I pick the tube-shaped character made out of ziti. She hasn’t colored it all in yet, so I use the turquoise to make gently curved lines that follow the shape of the ziti’s body. Then I make small round polka dots with the orange. “Another color,” I say, holding my palm up for more.
Cora hands me green and pink, and I color in around the orange circles with the pink, then draw large flares spiraling out from the pasta body in green.
“See?” I say, handing her back the paper. “You don’t just have to fill in the lines. You can make anything your mind can imagine. Patterns inside the lines, emphasis outside. You can add anything. You just need a little inspiration and a few colors.”
“What’s inspiration?” Luke asks. He’s busy drawing a railroad track on the bottom of his menu.
“That right there.” I jab my finger in the air excitedly. “Look at that. I would never have thought to put a train with pasta people, but how cool is that? You wereinspiredby an idea to do something different.”
Luke blushes and hands me his menu. “Will you inspire something on mine?”
I smirk and take his menu. “Only if you inspire something on mine.”
Ryder is still looking at the birds I drew. I made two very classic, old-school tattoo-style swallows. Not at all the birds from the parking lot, but it doesn’t matter if they are exactly what I saw. These are, I guess, inspired by the doves or whatever they were flying in tandem.
Ryder stares at my artwork, a little tightness around his lips. “Your birds are really, really stunning,” he says. “I might have to come back for a tattoo after all.”
“What?” Luke gasps and stares at his dad with wonder. “You’d get a tattoo, Dad? All over your arm?”
Ryder holds up a hand and shakes his head. “We’ll see. I was just complimenting Grace’s skill.”
The kids and I color in silence until I hear something that stops my heart in my chest.
“Gracie?”
“Oh God.” I literally drop the crayon and cover my face with both hands. “Brace yourself,” I mutter.
“Sorry?” Ryder looks confused, but before I can explain, I leap out of my seat.
Rita is leading none other than my mother and her friend Bev over to our table.
“Lookie here.” Rita looks incredibly proud of herself, and under normal circumstances, I’d be thrilled to run into my mom on a random outing. But seeing her like this is literally my worst nightmare. I’m going to have to do a lot of damage control.
“Hey, Ma,” I say, clasping her in a hug and kissing both cheeks. When I move on from my mom and kiss Bev, I can see my mom’s face is so damn red, it nearly matches her store-bought hair color.
