Chapter Six
Zoey’s been busy all week, and I barely get a chance to talk to her. She’s the head librarian of our little town, and sometimes duty calls. She’s currently planning a community garden with the arbor society, and every time I call, it’s all tomatoes and cucumbers and not a single sexual innuendo to make it fun.
On Thursday, Frankie and Rayanna are hanging out at the garage, all in love and shit, so I take off early. After I head home to change, I decide to go out and grab something to eat. I’m looking pretty cute, despite the heat, so I opt for pick-up at my favorite restaurant. Maybe a drink at the bar while I wait. Who knows, the man of my dreams might walk in and take me away from my mediocrity.
I roll my eyes, as I walk toward Le Che. I’ve never been negative, a trait I’ve always been very proud of. Even when going through my divorce, I had a great attitude. But now that I’m losing Zoey, losing Frankie, I realize I don’t have nearly enough friends. I need to expand my circle or I’m going to end up alone with fifty-five little dogs in my uber-safe apartment complex eating frosting out of the container with a spoon.
“Hello, beautiful,” the bartender says when I sit down.
“Hey, Barnes,” I tell him, flashing him a smile. He’s about sixty with a perfectly trimmed gray beard, Sean Connery in his older (but not super old) days. “Can I get a beer?”
“Coming up. You want a menu?” he asks.
“Please.” I set my bag on the barstool next to me, glad the restaurant isn’t too packed. It’s nice here, classy without the white tablecloths and over-attentive service. The food is rock solid, the drinks are strong if you’re into that sort of thing, and the clientele is eclectic.
Barnes sets the menu and a glass of beer in front of me, and I take a sip as I peruse the menu. Hm… lobster mac ‘n cheese or burger? It’s a tough call.
From my bag, I hear my phone buzz. I distractedly reach in and grab it, noticing Le Che has added oysters to the menu. I see from the caller ID that Zoey is calling.
“Hey, girl,” I say, putting the phone to my ear. “Are you knee-deep in soil right now?”
She laughs. “I’m knee deep in something. Turn around.”
I furrow my brow, and then glance over my shoulder. A few tables away, I find Zoey and Porter sitting at a table. I start to smile, until the other person turns toward me, straight-faced and gorgeous. Oh, shit. The dinner. They’re here with Ryerson.
“I can hear you gulp from here,” Zoey says. “Better come over. They spotted you before I did.”
I turn back around, and click off the phone. There is no possible way I can go over to that table. Right?
“Know what you want, sweetheart?” Barnes asks, swiping his white towel under my sweating drink glass.
I look up at him. “If I knew that, Barnes, I wouldn’t be such a mess.”
He sniffs a laugh, and I thank him for the drink and drop some bills on the bar. I take my beer, and head toward the table. I nervously flick my gaze to Ryerson, but he’s staring down at his Old Fashioned, running an orange slice around the rim. He’s probably not meaning to, but it looks erotic. I gulp again.
“Ah…” Porter says good-naturedly when I get to the table. “Cheyenne has decided to join us. Thought you and Barnes were running away together.” He smiles at all of us, but all of us shift uncomfortably in response. His smile fades.
I realize he must not know about Ryerson and I, and I’m suddenly so proud of my best friend for keeping this secret. It must have been torture. Or she was just really busy. Either way, I’ll thank her later.
“Sit down,” Zoey says abruptly, and motions to the empty seat next to Ryerson. I resist the urge to pull it around the table to the other side. Zoey watches us.
“Ry,” she says. “You remember Cheyenne from the barbecue, right?” She gives nothing away, and I’m wondering if my girl is secretly a double agent or something. She’s amazing.
Ryerson laughs softly, and picks up his drink. He turns to me, and being this close to him again sends a shiver down my entire body. His hair is combed smooth, his button-down shirt crisp. He smiles, and his gorgeous dark eyes narrow slightly.
“Of course,” he says. “Miss Cheyenne, how are you?” He holds out his free hand, and I dart a quick look at Zoey before I take it. Again, it’s more palm sliding against palm than a shake, and I kind of love the intimacy of it.
“I’m… good. How are you?”
“Starving,” he responds easily, and turns back to his menu. “By the way,” he adds, not looking at me. “Your husband seems like a nice guy. Didn’t even charge me for fixing my truck.”
“You met Frankie?” Porter asks. “A little scrappy, but I like him.” He sips from his drink, and everyone falls quiet again.
I’m embarrassed, and before I can explain the situation, Zoey sets down her beer with a clank and rolls her eyes.
“He’s not her husband,” she announces, and Ryerson lifts his head. “He’s her ex-husband. They’re just on really good terms. Yes, it’s weird and sweet.” She looks across the table at me, and smiles softly. “Besides,” she adds. “Frankie Miller’s getting married.”
I smile back. Me, Zoey, and Frankie have known each other a long time. Him moving on is like part of our childhood moving on.
“He sure is,” I say, nodding. “And she’s moving in today.” Zoey crinkles her nose, but then shrugs. We both know Frankie deserves to be happy, and Ray is pretty cool as far as replacement wives go.
“I’m… sorry for the Mrs. Miller crack then,” Ryerson says, looking sideways at me. His lips hold a teasing smile, and I feel my skin warm in return. He runs his eyes over my body, before picking up his drink. “And you’re gorgeous in that dress,” he says against his glass.
“I think we should order,” Zoey says, holding up her hand to signal the server. She and Porter exchange a pointed look, but I don’t care about their judgment right now.
There is a brush on my bare thigh, and I glance down and see Ryerson’s hand resting on my chair. His pinky glides against my skin, testing. Teasing. My heart starts to speed up.
The server comes over, and we order. Ryerson’s hand leaves, and then returns to rest on my thigh under the table. It’s secret, naughty. And all I want in the world right now is for it to glide up a little higher.
“So this community garden,” Zoey says during dinner, turning to Porter. “Do you think you could get some of the guys to come down? I could use the muscle.”
Porter takes a sip of his beer, putting off answering. Ryerson turns to me, watching the side of my face as his hand slides up, touching the hem of my dress. I look at him, my lips slightly parted.
“Tell me about yourself,” he says. I think he wants to see if I can talk while he’s arousing me. He’s playing with me.
“You first,” I say, making him laugh. We both smile at each other, and his hand slips under my dress, his fingers brushing over my panties. The heat of his touch sends shockwaves through my body. But I betray nothing more than a small flutter of breath, not even as he circles my clit. I reach to pick up my glass, grateful for the cool sip of beer.
Ryerson slides his hand down my thigh and off my knee, before he pushes back in his chair.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he says to the table, and heads toward the back where the restrooms are. Just before he turns the corner for the hall, he glances at me and smiles. I think he wants me to follow him.
Zoey and Porter are still talking about gardening or some shit, when I stand abruptly. “Be right back,” I say to them, and they hardly notice as I leave.
Ryerson is standing in the hallway, hidden from the restaurant, and holding a menu like he’s reading. I smile, and walk over to stand next to him. Without hesitation, he turns and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling my back against him.
“I can’t keep my eyes off of you,” he breathes into my neck. “I want to take you back to my place.” His fingers dig into my hip, and I’m ready to walk out the door with him.
“For a nightcap?” I ask, my voice a little shaky. My entire body is screaming for him, and I can’t believe I’m going to fall into this so completely. Zoey’s warnings be damned.
Ryerson laughs, and brushes my hair aside, placing a small kiss on the back of my neck. I close my eyes.
“No,” he says. “I’m going to bring you back and fuck you senseless. But we can have a drink too, if you’d like.”
There is the jangle of keys, and Ryerson and I quickly pull apart. He holds the menu in front of his massive erection, and pretends to read about the starters. A server walks out from the back room, nodding hello to us, and hurries by. When she’s gone, Ryerson lifts his eyes to mine, a wolfish grin on his lips.
“So does that sound like a plan?” he asks.
I love the way his voice sounds, the way it tickles my ears. The way he touches me. There’s no way I can’t try a little more—just for fun. I won’t fall in love with him or anything. I’m too smart for that.
“Text me your address,” I say, and grab my phone. “And I’ll see.”
Ryerson reaches out to take my hand, and pulls me closer. He wraps his arms around me, his hands clasped low on my back. It’s a public embrace. If Zoey or Porter saw…
“Don’t keep me in suspense,” he says, a little wounded. He doesn’t seem the type of guy to be vulnerable, and something about it rattles me a little. Makes him more than a very hot, very delicious piece of meat.
“Yeah, I’ll come by,” I say, dropping my seductive act. He smiles, and leans in, eyes open, and sweetly places a kiss on my lips.
“I’ll look forward to it,” he murmurs, and kisses me again.
He takes my phone from my hand, and enters his address and number. When he gives it back, he looks me up and down.
“You really do look gorgeous tonight,” he says.
I thank him, touching my hair. I’m embarrassed by how easily he charms me.