“Okay, Dr. Taylor, here’s the deal,” Riley said in a tone that meant business.  “You need to stay here.” She scoffed in protest, but he held up his hand.  “No.  It would save money, and if by some off chance, there is some credence to Darby’s insane universe theory, you would be saving both of us another hospital run.  And your stuff is already here.”  He saw her expression harden and her eyes narrow, so he softened his tone. “Please,” Riley added encouragingly, his piercing eyes looking down at her, voice husky, “say you’ll stay?”

“Wow, you’re actually begging?” Darby teased.

“Shut up, Darbs,”  he stage whispered and elbowed Darby.  “Not helping.”  He stood in front of Vanessa, who still sat at his kitchen table, his towel draped around his neck, his hands grabbing both ends of the towel.  Body language exuded total honesty. 

He had put on a shirt, but it clung to his sweaty body perfectly.  She was mesmerized for a moment by his eyes, not sure if he could actually read her thoughts or if he just tried to.  He smiled, and at that moment, she knew she was a goner.

“Okay, Mr. Tate.  I will stay here.  As long as you understand it’s only because I value my physical well-being.”

“Uh huh,” Darby sarcastically mumbled under her breath.  “Your health.  Right.” Darby began to clean up her mess, still mumbling.  “And what’s all this ‘Dr. Taylor,’ ‘Mr. Tate’ stuff?  I’ve heard patients and therapists call each other by their first names.  Why you gotta be so formal?”  She stopped in the middle of the kitchen asking louder,  “You wanna sandwich, MISTER Tate?”

Riley tried to pop Darby with the towel, but missed.  “No, thanks.  I’m gonna go take a shower.  I ran this morning, swam and worked out.  Sweat and chlorine.  I feel gross.”

“You only worked out for like ten minutes.  And I thought men liked to feel gross,”  Darby said.  “It’s part of their lack of charm.”

“Not all men.  And I worked out for forty-five minutes.  Just the arms and shoulders today.”  He flexed his shoulders, and Vanessa had to swallow several times to keep from drooling down her chin.  “You staying, or should I say goodbye now?”

“I’ll wait until you’re un-gross so I can give you a proper goodbye hug.  Plus, I’m not done with Vanessa.  Just hurry.  Thursday is date night.  Allison and I are going to see a movie.”

Riley casually strolled through the living room to his bedroom hidden behind the fireplace wall.  Darby continued to put away the sandwich makings before she spoke again.  She sat across the table from Vanessa and grabbed her hands.

“Alright, Vanessa.  I don’t know you well at all, and you don’t know me.  My loyalties lie with my boy in there,” she nodded her head in the direction of Riley’s room, “and I don’t think you know it, but you have had a profound effect on him.”

“No, I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Yeah, you may not think so,”  Darby let go of Vanessa’s hands,  “but you have.  And I don’t think you should leave tomorrow.  I’m afraid of how it will affect what progress you have made.”

“But he hasn’t agreed to allow me to treat him…”

“Yeah, so you don’t think there’s any point in staying, I know.  But I haven’t seen him like this in a long while, since before his momma got so sick.  Even while he was with that walking infection of a so-called girlfriend, I didn’t see him like this.  He was so depressed, but now, he’s almost back to his old self.  Two and a half days with you have done a world of good.  You need to find an excuse to stay.”

“So, help me to convince him to accept treatment, Darby.  He seems to listen to you.” 

“There is a difference between valuing my council and doing what I say.  I’ll talk to him, but I can’t promise he’ll take my advice.  It’ll be on you to do the convincing.  Bottom line is it needs to be his decision.”

“You seem to know him well.  How do you suggest I do that?” Vanessa asked, not doing well to keep the desperation out of her voice.

Darby smiled.  “I think you can figure that out, Love.  I can tell you to be honest and genuine.  Don’t appear to be trying too hard.”

Infuriating little hippie! 

 

***

 

“Darby, it was great to meet you.  I hope to see you again before I leave.”  Vanessa hugged her new friend.  “I have to go to the bathroom though, so I’ll leave you two to say goodbye without me hovering.”

“It was nice to meet you, too, Vanessa.”  Darby said, then she whispered, “Don’t worry, I know just what to say.”  She pulled out of the hug and smiled knowingly at Vanessa.

Vanessa hoped that Darby could work her magic on Riley.  She headed upstairs to what was, at least for the next twenty-four hours, her room.  After peeing, she looked around the room to see if she could figure out a way to organize all the boxes and things.  She plugged in the iPod and went to work.  It was a slow process with the ankle and arm both wounded, but she managed to get some things done, with a little help from The Black Keys, Muse, Seether and Staind.

Her hands may have been occupied, but her mind wandered.  She thought back to her conversation with Darby about her brother.  It led Vanessa to think about her own brother, who was really her step brother, although she had never thought of him that way.  He ripped her heart out when he left for college because he broke all ties with Vanessa.  She understood now that he was distancing himself from his mom.  Vanessa was just an innocent casualty of his freeze out.  After their mom died, they aired out their issues.  They were close now, but Vanessa could certainly understand Darby’s comment about the void her brother’s absence left.  At least Vanessa was lucky enough to have Seth back in her life now, and she loved his wife and his kids so much.  Although she was still a bit angry at him for leaving her to deal with the wake of craziness he left behind, she didn’t let him know it because he was truly making an effort to make things right between them.  Her rational side told her that at eighteen, he was too young to know how his leaving would affect her.  However, her heart was really trying, but it just couldn’t let go of the resentment entirely.  He knew how unstable their mother was, and she was so young…

She turned up the music to distract her before she depressed herself.  She was in the middle of sorting through a box of underwear, loudly singling along with Marilyn Manson to “The Beautiful People,” when she heard a knock at her door. 

Panic threatened because she knew he heard her singing, but she squelched it with a deep breath as she turned off the music.  She might as well own it.

“Vanessa, are you decent?”  Riley asked.

“Yes, come in.”

He opened the door and leaned against the door frame.  Dressed in a green t-shirt covered in an opened, button-down, long-sleeved denim casual shirt, rolled up to the elbows, and khaki shorts, his arms crossed across his chest, he looked like he modeled for some sexy men’s outdoor catalogue.  “Man, you really belt it out hard core.  You weren’t kidding about the rock music, huh?”

She blushed.  “Marilyn Manson is a lyrical genius.”

“I always thought he was a freak.”  Riley smirked.

“I ignore his stage theatrics at the beginning of his career, although some called it performance art.  If I hadn’t listened to his music first, though, I might agree with you.  He’s actually a pretty intelligent, deep thinker.”  She moved the last box to a more acceptable location.  “But you didn’t come up here to talk about my music choices, Mr. Tate.”

“Oh, for the love of Pete, just call me Riley already.”

“Do you ever curse?  I mean, I know you don’t in your movies, but ever?”

“No, I was raised not to.  My mom said it was bad manners to use what she called ‘gutter language.’  And you’ve seen my movies?”

Vanessa looked down at the carpet.  “Only two.”  The memory of both of her colorful tirades from last night came back to her.  “You know, your mom is right.  I used awful language in front of you last night.  I should apologize.”  She looked up at him from underneath her lashes.  “I’m very sorry.”

He stared at her for a moment, as if not sure what to say.  “You were rightfully upset.  I get it.  And you weren’t raised with my mother.  I don’t hold it against you.”

“Well, I also accused you of being in cahoots with Charles, and if I recall, I called you some choice phrases.  It was wrong.  I apologize for that, too.”

“I can see how it looked.  It was a logical conclusion.  I just wish you hadn’t attacked me, although it was cute to watch.”  He smiled, fully dimpled, at the memory.  “Since the apologies are flying, I should have realized that you are not the type of woman to fall victim to Charles.  I have now accused you twice of impropriety.  I am truly sorry.”    

“Forgiven.”  A smile lingered between them, gazes locked for an immeasurable moment.  She broke it first and looked down at her feet. 

He broke the awkward silence by chuckling.  “Wow.  We’re just a couple of sorry individuals.” 

Vanessa giggled.  “Yeah, I guess we are.”

“So, let’s make a pact to not think the worst of each other anymore so we don’t have to be sorry again.  Deal?”  She rose and limped toward him with her outstretched hand, looking dead in his eyes. 

He pushed off the door frame, took a step toward her, and grabbed her hand to shake it.  Again his hand felt warm, and touching it sent a tingle right up her arm into the pit of her stomach.  His forefinger of his right hand moved over hers, lightly caressing her wrist and the top of her hand.  The action made her suck in a quick breath and sent that tingle in her gut a little further southward. 

“Deal,” he answered huskily, eyes softening, but still boring a hole right through her.

She dropped his hand quickly and looked down at the floor, trying to think of anything to change the subject, not terribly sure how to take his actions.  “I saw Just Playing Along and Flying Blind.”  That seemed so random, Nessa.  Nice.  Smooth.  Just what you wanna portray.  “I ordered Blind Faith the other night, but I fell asleep before the opening credits were done.”

“You saw my first movie?  Really?  I don’t think I even had one line in that movie.”

“You had two,” she corrected, a little too quickly.  Yeah, not a bit stalker-ish.

He smiled.  “I have all of them on Blu-Ray, if you’d like to see any others, and I have other movies if you’d rather not watch mine.  We can get something to eat and then have a movie fest on the couch.” 

A loud growl emanated from her stomach.  She reflexively placed her hand across her midsection.  “I guess that answers that.  I only had a pickle with Darby.”  Dork.

“Do you like Chinese?” 

“Yes.  A lot.  But only the stuff that isn’t good for you.”

“Awesome.  I’ll order and let you finish in here.”  He smiled and closed the door.

What the hell was that, Nessa?  Did Riley Tate just flirt with you?  Can’t be.  I’m not his type.  But I’m finding more and more that I want to be.  A lot.  Ugh.  He seems so perfect.  See where this leads and hope he makes it clearer what he wants from me.  Don’t get your hopes up, Ness.  He’s just a nice guy.  Let him make a move.  Just sit back and see.

She felt the need to dress a little nicer than a tank top, so she changed her shirt to a royal blue, v-neck t-shirt, this time fully cognizant of the compliments Riley had bestowed upon her two days ago and last night.  Then, she checked in the bathroom for what she needed to do to make herself look more appealing without looking too obvious.  She decided to take a quick rinse-off shower, wash her face and go for a clean slate before reapplying mascara and eye liner.  More lotion and a little lip gloss and she was ready for whatever faced her downstairs.

She hobbled, sans crutches, down the steps to find Riley waiting for her at the bottom.  He extended a hand to help her with the last few, and she graciously took it, tingle and all. 

“Food’s not here yet.  I found all the movies for you to choose which one to start our evening.”

“You want to start one now?  I’d hate to get interrupted in the middle of the movie by dinner.  Plus, I’m really not too excited about eating on your couch.  If you didn’t want orange juice on it the other day, then I figure you’d really hate sweet and sour.  I’m not really that graceful with my Chinese sauces.”

He laughed.  “Me, either.  I don’t suppose you want to try the barstools again?”

She squinted her eyes.  “That’d be a ‘not on your life.’  The table is good.  Plus your view from this window is breathtaking, especially in the evening.” 

“It’s only 5:30.  You should see it at sunset.”  He smiled.  “We can go outside if you want.  Javier will tell us when the food gets here.”

“Does he live here?  I never see him around.”

“Yes, in an apartment above the garage.  He and his wife take care of everything.  He kind of came with the house.  Both of them can do anything, well, except for take care of the pool, and that he’s had to learn how to do, um, quite recently.”

“Wait.  He came with the house?” Vanessa asked, trying not to sound completely appalled.

“Sort of.  He worked for the former owner, whose job quickly transferred him to London, and he was looking for a quick sale.  I just happened to be in the right place at the right time, and I bought the house before it even went on the market.  Since Javier and his wife were gone for their son’s wedding in Modesto, and Javi won’t get a cell phone, the owner couldn’t tell them he was moving.  I told the guy I would handle Javier, and when I met him, I hired him on the spot.  Now, I consider him a good friend.”

“Wow.”  She swallowed, not sure how to respond without looking like a fawning idiot.  She changed the subject.  “I haven’t seen his wife.”

“I’ll have to introduce you tomorrow.  She is not feeling well this evening.  And she doesn’t speak any English.  Do you speak Spanish?”

“Only what I learned in the two years I had to take it in high school.  So no, not much.  Do you?”

“Fluently.”

The wonders of Riley Tate never cease.