“I have no idea,” Jack says. He shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear away a dream.
Mom puts her hand on my shoulder. “His cursing might have been a bit much, but he made a lot of good points. We’re very proud of you, sweetheart, and all the work you do.”
I’m still too shocked for her kind words to penetrate. Did Ryan really just mount a full-scale defense of me to our whole family? He hasn’t said anything nice about me since…well, never, that I can remember. And some of the things he said—he couldn’t have known how my articles onBelladonnawere ranking unless he read them. Since when did he actually take an interest in my work beyond making fun of my headlines?
Uncle Tommy coughs, and I realize that everyone in the room is still looking to me for an answer.
I laugh tightly. “Ryan lost a big poker tournament last week. He’s been off since then.”
Jack nods. For my stepfather, anything that’s wrong with Ryan can be explained by poker.
“Can I get anyone a refill on their drinks?” Mom asks.
After a few minutes, the conversation moves on to landscaping—Aunt Paige loathes her gardeners, and Aunt Melissa wants to sleep with hers—while I mull over what just happened. Ryan took a risk defending me like that. Our parents might wonder what got him acting so defensive, considering that he’s usually the one attacking me.
Mom is too perceptive. I can’t shake the feeling that if she really looked at me, she’d see the truth all over my face. How barely a week ago, Ryan had me bent over a table, screaming his name.
That doesn’t stop me from being grateful. My self-esteem has been taking a beating with all those terrible dates. Even if it was Ryan, it was nice to have someone actually stand up for me.
“I’ll be right back” I say, pushing to my feet. “I have to go talk to Ryan. He set up this thing where I can check on my cat with a camera at the apartment, but I can’t get it to work.”
I shake my phone as proof and hope the excuse holds up. I need to talk to him.
“Okay, sweetie,” Mom says.
She joins back in on the conversation, leaving me to go upstairs to Ryan’s room. For once, I’m grateful that Mom and Jack’s place is so big that I can’t hear them at all once I hit the hallway where our childhood bedrooms are.
I knock lightly on the door, but he doesn’t answer. I do it again, a little louder. Either he’s ignoring me, or he’s got his headphones on while he plays online poker. Knowing him, they’re both equally likely. With a sigh, I shove open the door to his room.
But Ryan isn’t at his desk or on his bed, he’s walking out of his adjoining bathroom with a cloud of steam billowing behindhim. He’s completely naked, his smooth skin still wet and shining from the shower while he rubs his wet hair with a white towel.
His eyes meet mine, and the towel slips from his hand.
“Uh…”
I didn’t think he was actually going to take a shower. I thought it was an excuse to get away from the family before he said anything else to implicate us, but…
My grip tightens on the door handle.
I know I should look away, or maybe apologize for barging in, or, I don’t know, fuckingleave?I should do anything other than stare at him the way IknowI’m staring at him.
Ryan stares right back at me, his chest heaving with each breath. My eyes flick down to trace the muscles that I was just touching a few days ago. The air between us feels charged, like one wrong move or word would set us both off.
“What are you doing here, Pippa?” he says, his voice low and rough.
“What you said back there…” I trail off, not sure what I want to say to him anymore.
He sets his jaw and I watch as the muscles in his forearms flex as he clenches his fists and casts his gaze to the floor.
“I meant every word.”
My shaky intake of breath at his admission makes him snap his focus back to me, and the way his heated gaze falls to my mouth, I…
I twist the handle and shut the door without a sound, theclickof the lock engaging as I push it sounds like a gunshot in the silence.
“Are you sure about this?” Ryan says, his voice low.
I bite my lip and nod. “Yeah. I think I am.”
