Ginny’s heart warmed and her affection for Chloe grew tenfold. How she’d ever been jealous—even for a moment—of this woman who was so kind-spirited made her question how crazy Ryan had truly made her. “Thanks, Chloe. Iamcrazy about him,” she admitted.
“I know, girl. Don’t mention it.” She pulled a towel from her back pocket and swatted Ginny with it. “Now, shoo.”
Ginny giggled and approached Ryan at the table he always sat at. “Do you know how many times I saw you study at this very table in my youth?” she said, grinning ear to ear but feeling as if she were approaching a sleeping bear.How would Ryan react today? Stand in salute or run and hide?
Ryan turned and jumped from his seat, nearly knocking it over.Stand and salute, then.He righted the chair and gesturedfor her to sit at his side. “Your youth… huh?” He tapped his fingers on the back of the chair. “Was this before or after your clogging routine toIce, Ice Baby?”
She tapped her finger on her lip like she couldn’t quite remember. “I think it was right around the time you wore those Batman footie pajamas with the cape for halloween and then for every movie night for months.”
“Doesn’t sound familiar. Though, I bet I looked cool.” He waved her off. “We should probably forget it ever happened… Wanna study with me today? For old times’ sake?”
“Definitely.” She broke her cookie in half, offering him some. “Want half a hedgehog?”
“Irresistible.” He smirked, took a bite of the cookie before taking his seat, and pulled out his well-worn Bible. “I was just gonna do some Bible study and then maybe write out some plays for the game.”
Ginny had to bite down on her smile. This man… “Sounds good.Reeeal good.”
Ryan glanced up, that tilted smile on his lips “Nacho Libre?”
“Yup. What kinda socks ya wearin’, Hood?”
“Nacho Libre.”
She smiled wide. “You are not! Show me.”
“My socks are not for entertainment purposes, Ginny Remillard. I’m a respectable man. An educator…”
She pulled his pant leg up and earned what could only be described as a squeal. “What are you doin’—”
“Your socks are taco triceratops.”
“Yes they are,” he said proudly.
“Way better thanNacho Libre.” Ginny pulled out her own Bible and began to read quietly at Ryan’s side but quickly realized that reading scripture with him was a whole new form of torture. Especially for someone trying earnestly to love the manlike a brother in Christ rather than someone she’d like to kiss into oblivion.
But Ryan was an exceedingly appealing man who educated young minds for a living, could play guitar, studied the Bible on his own on a Saturday morning, and wore novelty socks with triceratops on them. He was like Christian girl catnip.
Is this how Gus felt every time Lakeland Lovett walked into his space? The cat would permanently attach himself to Lake’s lap if Ginny’s mama didn’t insist on holding the vile creature ninety-eight percent of the time. But suddenly Ginny could commiserate with that giant orange monster. She pictured herself crawling onto Ryan’s lap and nuzzling his neck just a little bit—maybe purring once or twice to really sell it—and then snorted out loud at the image.
Ryan glanced up, eyebrows raised.
“Just thinkin’ about Gus,” she said, totally unabashed, but felt heat rise in her cheeks.
He chuckled and shook his head. “Like I said the other night, Gin. You’re anything but ordinary.” Ryan looked her over with speculative eyes and his jaw set tight before he returned to his study.
“You…” She held her hands together on the table, clenching her fingers. “You make me kinda nervous,” she admitted. “I don’t really get nervous around anyone but you, and then, I dunno why, but the weirdest stuff comes outta my mouth.”
Ryan didn’t look up from his Bible, but she knew he’d stopped reading. His eyes no longer tracked along the page but had instead focused on where her fingers anxiously twisted around each other. “I’ve always been kinda introverted when it comes to people. I get nervous, too.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
He shook his head, still refusing to look up at her, like she didn’t understand at all. “But… I always feel comfortable whenI’m with you. A little confused, obviously,” he smiled and finally let his eyes flick up to hers, “but comfortable… Homey. Like…”
“Oatmeal raisin cookies?”
He smiled, and his green eyes looked like a field of grass Ginny would like to lie down in and make snow angels. “Chocolate chip.”
“Hmmm,” Ginny hummed, feeling immensely proud of the fact that she didn’t jump out of her seat and take a victory lap around the coffee shop shouting, “I’m his chocolate chip cookies!!!!" Instead, she said, “That may be the very best thing you’ve ever said to me, Coach.”
