Married 'til Monday Page 3
There was that.
Boo appeared at her feet. She swept the dog into her arms, cradling her to her stomach, the wiggly shield not big or solid enough. Not even close.
Ryan straightened, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. “What time tomorrow?”
“I’m leaving Wednesday.”
“What time?”
“Seven in the morning.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven then.”
She was not giving him control of this trip. “No, I’ll pick you up.”
“Fine. What’s your phone number?”
Flustered, she rattled it off as he tapped it into his phone.
“I’ll send you my address, then you’ll have my number too.” He opened the door. “I’ll see you about eight thirty on Wednesday then. Good night.” And then the door was closed and he was gone.
This was happening. It was really happening. How was it that he’d come back into her life and whipped it upside down all over again?
Chapter Four
ABBY WAS IN HER SECOND YEAR AT BOSTON COLLEGE when she met Ryan. After a difficult high school relationship and two years of college guys, she’d sworn off men until graduation.
She’d taken a job at Dunkin’ Donuts right off campus. The early hours meant missing church on Sunday and early weekend nights—the latter a fact her roommate and friend Chelsea wasn’t happy about. But Abby didn’t miss being dragged to parties or the slick guys who hit on her, relentless in their search for a convenient bedmate.
Finals week of first semester found her in the busy library, sharing a rectangular table with Chelsea and several other students. They were supposed to be studying for English 201, but Chelsea was more interested in comparing schedules for next term.
Abby’s course load was heavy—eighteen credit hours—and with her weekend hours at the doughnut shop, she wouldn’t have time for much else.
“Oh my gosh,” Chelsea said in her too-loud whisper. “You’re going to be a total drudge next semester.” Her friend pouted, a look that got her anything she wanted from the male species.
“I need to get out of here in three years.” Unlike Chelsea, Abby didn’t have a rich daddy or a limitless credit card.
“Drop one class. Just one. You can take courses over the summer.”
“I already am.”
“Go with me to the Sigma party on Friday,” Chelsea said, changing the subject on a dime.
“You know I have to work Saturday.”
“Work, schmerk!”
“Shhhh!” A girl at their table glared at them over her Harry Potter glasses.
“Sorry,” Abby said, then lowered her voice. “I’m done with those stupid parties. I don’t know why you want to see a bunch of frat boys get drunk and make fools of themselves.”
Chelsea brushed her long brown hair over her slim shoulder. “Hottie alert, twelve o’clock. Oh my gosh, he is totally checking you out.”
Abby’s eyes bounced up of their own volition. The guy was cute. Dark hair, broad shoulders. And he was staring straight at her from his table across the room. Face warming, she dropped her eyes to her notes.
Chelsea nudged her. “Let’s go say hi.”
“No.” Abby pushed her schedule aside. “We’re here to study.”
“But he’s so hot.”
“Then you go say hi.”
Amusement twinkled in Chelsea’s eyes. “I’m not the one he’s staring at.”
Abby’s traitorous eyes did a quick check, and she instantly regretted it. The guy was still staring.
Abby shuffled the flash cards and pulled Chelsea back to studying by quizzing her in a whisper. Twenty minutes later, her roommate’s eyes flickered up from her notes for the hundredth time.
“He’s leaving.”
“Good, maybe now you can focus.”
Harry Potter girl slammed her book shut and left the table. A second later her chair was taken by a girl who resembled a young Drew Barrymore.
“He’s coming this way,” Chelsea said.
“Well, the exit is behind us.”
“You can’t let him get away. Oh my gosh, he’s coming over here. He is totally coming over—”
“Hi,” a deep voice said behind her.
Chelsea stared up over Abby’s head, wide-eyed. “Hey.”
Abby took a quick glance, just long enough to note olive skin, a sharply cut jaw, and a pair of brown eyes that somehow warmed the whole package.
“Hi.” Abby shuffled through her index cards, not even seeing the terms.
“I’m Ryan.” His voice was low and gentle, a contrast to his rugged face and muscular frame.
“Chelsea. This is my friend Abby.”
“Nice to meet you.”
For some reason her heart was racing and her mouth had dried out. It was the way she felt at those stupid parties.
“Need some help studying? I’m a whiz with flash cards.”
Chelsea suddenly popped to her feet, gathering her things. “Can’t. I have to meet someone. But Abby could use some help.”
“I have class.”
“No you don’t, remember? Final’s in two hours . . . chop, chop.”
Abby sent her friend a death glare, which Chelsea completely ignored, stuffing her things into her book bag in record time.
“See you in English.” Once past Ryan, Chelsea turned and gave her the thumbs-up. Abby was going to kill her.
Ryan touched the chair beside her. “May I?”
Abby shrugged, shuffling up her cards and trying to focus on them as he pulled out the chair and sank into it. His masculine smell filled her nose.
“I wasn’t kidding about helping you. I’m pretty good at English.”
She shot him a look. “I’m a journalism major. I hardly think I need help with a basic English class.”
“Journalism, huh? What do you want to write about?”
She barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “Look, I’m not interested. Why don’t you go hit on someone else? There’s a pretty girl right over there.” She flicked her hand toward the Drew Barrymore look-alike.
He didn’t even glance away. “Who says I’m hitting on you? Maybe I work here and I’m just trying to do my job.”
Her face flamed. Stupid Irish skin. She didn’t have to look to know he was staring at her. She felt his gaze like a focused laser beam. It made her squirm in her seat.
“You’re a library aide?”
“No, but I could be.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Go for coffee with me tonight.”
“So you are hitting on me.”
“I’m trying to get to know you.”
Sure he was. “And like I said. Not interested. And I really need to study.” She gave him a look. “Alone.”
He held up his hands, his lips turning up in a whimper-worthy smile. “All right, all right. I’ll leave you alone.” His eyes flickered over her scattered papers. “For now. It was nice to meet you, Abby.”
Finals passed, then Christmas break. Abby had all but forgotten about him—or at least convinced herself she had—when he turned up in her drawing elective the next term. He sat beside her in the first class and every class thereafter, no matter how much she tried to arrange it otherwise.
It didn’t take him long to ask her out again. It also didn’t take her long to realize he was a bad artist. Really bad. She later learned he’d seen her schedule in the library that day and had substituted drawing for his final elective credit.
He asked her out at least once a week. One day, a couple months into the term, she saw him in the dining hall with her cousin Beau. It turned out they were good friends. Beau assured her Ryan was a good guy. He was from Indiana, at the university on a swimming scholarship. That explained his lean, broad-shouldered build.
Still she resisted. She didn’t have time for guys, and she knew better than most that a “good guy” could have all kinds of secrets.
Finally one day mid-semester, upon his hundredth re
quest, Abby put down her charcoal and gave him her full attention.
“Look. I’m sure you’re a nice guy—God knows you’re persistent—but you don’t want to go out with me. I’m cynical, I’m complicated, and I’m saving myself for marriage, so why don’t you just move on to an easier target.”
He tilted his head, regarding her. He had a swipe of charcoal on his cheek, and her fingers itched to smudge it away. Those warm brown eyes locked onto hers until she was in danger of melting on the spot.
She forced her eyes away, and they fell on his drawing. It was supposed to be a fruit basket, but it looked like a boat filled with bowling balls.
“I find your cynicism strangely charming,” he said quietly. “A nice balance to my delusional optimism. Complicated means lots of layers that’ll take years to peel back. And purity is a virtue, not a flaw.”
Her breath tumbled out. Not what she expected. Then again, Ryan was full of surprises.
“Come on, Abby. It’s just a date. Just one date.”
“Then you’ll leave me alone?”
He pressed his lips together. “If you still want me to.”
“I will. When and where?”
His eyes flickered. “I’ll pick you up Saturday morning.”
“I work until three.”
“Four o’clock then. Does that give you enough time?”
“Fine. Where we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
After work Saturday Abby showered off the bakery smell, dried her hair, and pulled it back into a messy ponytail. She scrubbed the makeup from her face, exposing the freckles on her nose, and threw on a pair of jeans with her Eagles T-shirt, hating the way her hands trembled. It was just one date. Then he’d leave her alone.
When he arrived—five minutes early—she opened the door. He wore a collared shirt and a pair of khakis. Her chin notched up.
His gaze fell over her sloppy attire, and the corner of his lips twitched. “Ready?”
“Yep.”
“I hope you’re hungry.”
He wouldn’t tell her where they were going, but they hit the expressway going south, making small talk. His hand was draped casually over the steering wheel as he told her about his family back home and asked about hers. She kept it brief and vague, itching to twist Nana’s ring in endless circles, but she forced her hands to lie still in her lap.
When the car stopped over an hour later, they were at a quaint shack of a restaurant on Cape Cod. Since Abby didn’t like seafood, they feasted on chicken wings and potato salad and cornbread with molasses butter, then they took a walk on the deserted beach. When she shivered against the cold February wind he draped his jacket around her shoulders. She collected shells, letting the roaring surf and the cry of seagulls soothe her tattered nerves.
Soon they were on the road again, and tension mounted in Abby when he turned into the campus.
“Thank you for today,” she said as they walked toward her hall’s main entrance. “I had a good time.”
It was true, she realized. The hours had passed quickly. Ryan was easy to talk to, and he’d even made her laugh a time or two.
He turned to her at the door. The exterior lights cast a soft golden glow over his face. He was ruggedly beautiful, and she wondered what he saw in her with her unruly red hair and too-pale skin.
His eyes caught hers, their warm depths holding her ransom. “Go out with me next weekend.”
The timbre of his voice set off an earthquake inside her. What was wrong with him? Didn’t he see how crappy she looked? The hideous freckles on her nose?
She wavered. She knew by now that Ryan wasn’t like the other college guys she’d met. He was polite and thoughtful and didn’t seem interested in parties or getting drunk or bedding as many girls as he could.
She did like him. Maybe too much. She had a feeling Ryan McKinley was capable of doing some major damage.
“I don’t know, Ryan.”
He made her heart pound just by looking at her. It was good and bad all at once. What would it be like if he touched her? Kissed her? The thought stirred a panic she hadn’t felt since she’d been home over winter break.
“You said you had a good time.”
“I did, but—Look, I’m really busy this quarter with school and work. I don’t think this is a good idea.”
He leaned a shoulder against the brick wall. “Just go to the basketball game with me Saturday. You were going anyway, right?”
“I guess.” But it would be a date, and then he’d ask for another, and after what Kyle had put her through in high school, she didn’t know if she was ready for a relationship.
He slid his index finger between her brows as he straightened. “You’re thinking too hard. I’ll meet you there, we’ll hang out. Bring your roommate if you want, and I’ll bring Beau.”
The thought of her cousin and Chelsea being there put her at ease. It was just four friends hanging out. What was the worst that could happen?
She sighed. “All right.”
Smiling, he opened the door for her. “See you in drawing class.”
When she reached her room she let down her hair and emptied the shells from her pocket. Three weeks later she would carefully wash them, drying each one with her ratty bath towel, and place them in a clear glass on her dresser.
Chapter Five
RYAN READJUSTED HIS GRIP ON THE TABLE AND WALKED backward toward the household items gathering in his parents’ garage.
On the other end of the table, his sisters Madison and Jade scurried forward.
Madison blew her dark hair from her eyes. “This thing is heavier than it looks.”
“That’s because you’re not used to lugging twins around,” Jade said.
“Right over here,” their mom called, making room between a bin full of Tupperware and a TV set with rabbit ears.
They set the table down, and Ryan looked around at the accumulated mess while Madison and Jade ran back inside for the last two boxes of clothing.
“What else?” he asked.
Mom adjusted the table’s angle and started unloading things onto it. “Well, everything needs price tags, but I can do that over the next few days. I was hoping you could help out with the sale on Saturday after football practice. Dad’s got a couple things going on, and the girls are working.”
Ryan grabbed some old board games and set them on the table. “I, ah, wish I could. But I’m going out of town a few days.”
“Where you going?”
This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. Not with his mom. He pretended not to hear over the sound of Yahtzee dice rolling around. He was already nervous about the trip. So nervous he’d invited Abby to pick him up at his house—the one he’d bought because of her. Last thing he needed was for her to know he still had feelings. She’d been skittish from the start, and their rocky marriage hadn’t helped matters.
He’d rectified the problem this morning with a text she hadn’t responded to yet.
“Ryan?” Mom smoothed back her short blond hair. “I said, ‘Where are you going?’ ”
So much for avoidance. He scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, Maine.”
His mom straightened from the box. “Maine? In the middle of July? What about football training?”
“The other coaches are filling in.” They hadn’t been too happy about that, but since he’d worked his butt off for the team during off-season, they’d held their tongues.
“What’s in Maine, besides better weather?”
He stared into his mom’s clear blue eyes, knowing what was coming but unable to prevent it. He’d never been able to lie to her, not when she was looking at him like that.
“Abby’s parents.”
Mom’s lips twisted as they always did at the mention of his ex-wife’s name. Her brows puckered. “Well, what in the world could you want with them?”
“They invited me to their anniversary party.”
“And you’re going? Honey, do you think that’s a
good idea? Abby will be there, I’m sure, and the expense of flying . . .” She shook her head. “Why? Why would you do that?”
The Uno cards tumbled from the mangled box, and he scooped them up, bracing himself. “I’m not flying. I’m driving . . . with Abby.”
“With—”
His gaze bounced off his mom long enough to see her parted mouth, the shock and confusion in her eyes. He gathered the last of the cards and shoved them into the box.
“I don’t understand.”
He might as well put it out there and let the chips fall where they may. If all went the way he hoped, she’d need time to adjust to the idea.
He set the package down and met his mother’s eyes. “I aim to win her back, Mom.”
“Ryan . . .” Her breath left on the word. “Why would you—hasn’t she—you can’t do this.”
“It’s already done. I’m leaving tomorrow. I’ll be gone six days. I’ll ask Daniel if he can help you with the sale.” His honorary brother—and now brother-in-law—might be the town mayor, but he was always willing to lend a hand.
“This is not about the sale.” It was her firm voice. The one she’d used when he was a child, often accompanied by his full name. “Have you forgotten what she put you through? Have you forgotten all the pain, all the time it took to heal from that woman? Because I haven’t.”
His jaw clenched. “It takes two, Mom.”
“That’s not the way I remember it.”
“Well, you’re my mom.”
Madison and Jade exited the house, setting the boxes on the table as the garage filled with silence. His sisters paused, their eyes toggling between Ryan and their mother, who stood staring at him.
“What’s going on?” Jade asked.
Madison started pulling clothes from one of the boxes. “If you’re upset about the Uno cards, Ryan, I’ll buy you a new pack.”
“Ryan’s going on a road trip with Abby.”
Two heads spun toward him.
“What?”
“Why?”
He pressed his lips together and started pulling clothes from the box, folding them haphazardly.
“Why would you do that?” Madison asked again.
Mom crossed her arms. “That’s what I said.”