Chapter 29
Last Day in Boston
Ella
Ryan's alarm woke us up at 8:00.
“What time is your flight?” he asked, his voice gritty with sleep.
“2:00 PM …” I trailed off, disappointed by the thought.
“We should get up, then. I don't want to spend our last few hours together in bed.”
“Of course, we could spend our last few hours together in bed,” I teased, running a finger through the carved-out valleys of his stone-hard abs.
“You don't know how tempting that is,” he said, biting his lip coyly, “but I'd feel bad if I didn't take you out to breakfast and have a proper morning with you first.”
“Ooh, breakfast! Where?”
“MacAllister's,” he said.
I searched his face for a clue that he was joking, but I didn't find one.
“Wha'? Again?” I mumbled.
“I figured we'd go for the MacAllister's hat trick: three times in three days. What do you think?”
“God, no! Ryan Ryder! If you even try to take me there again—”
He laughed and hugged me. “I'm kidding, I'm kidding! There's a fancy French place that does an over-the-top prix fixe brunch special. It's delicious, it's crazy hard to get a table, and it's expensive. You'll love it.”
I clapped my hands with excitement. “Now you're talking.”
“Then we'd better get up.”
We staggered out of bed, both of us bleary-eyed and exhausted. My skin was covered in a salty, sticky glaze—a reminder of last night's marathon love-making session. We'd truly done it all until the sun came up. I liked to think that I was making up for lost time, and making sure my 'first time' was plenty memorable.
But it was a new day, and that meant a new start. I took a shower, and when I emerged fresh and clean and soft, Ryan was waiting for me in his bedroom with a steaming mug of coffee.
“Here you go,” he said, passing the mug to me. “My turn to shower.”
Ryan showered and dressed in a hurry, magically transforming into a crisp, clean-shaven, and devastatingly handsome man who, in another fantastically fitting suit, could've graced GQ's cover. Minus the slightly swollen black eye, anyway.
“You ready?” he asked me.
“Yep.” I took his arm. “You look dashing, by the way.”
“And you look lovely.”
The plan was to eat brunch and spend the rest of afternoon in downtown Boston. We'd go to the airport from there, so I had to pack my bags to bring with us. I felt a sadness in the air that we were going to leave each other so soon.
Ryan carried my bags, and we took the elevator down to the lobby. We waited at the curb outside for the valet to return with Ryan's car. It almost slipped my mind that he would have a car, but, duh, of course he'd have a car.
While we waited for the valet to deliver his car from the parking garage, I tapped my chin and wondered what sort of car Ryan drove. I imagined a brightly-colored exotic sports car that would come roaring up the garage ramp, tires screeching to a halt in front of us, the engine's idle a menacing, organ-rattling hum. He was a professional athlete, after all, and that was the kind of exuberantly tacky stuff they filled their lives with to show their status.
But when the valet emerged with Ryan's car, I was pleasantly surprised to see a perfectly modest cobalt-blue BMW coupe. A fancy car, no doubt, but not one that screamed rich millionaire athlete.
“What a nice car!” I told him.
“Thanks.”
Ryan got his keys from the valet, gave the young man a tip, and opened my door for me. The cabin was infused with that 'new car smell,' and the comfortable black leather seats were taut and pristine.
“Is this car new?” I asked.
“I got it three years ago. When I signed my contract with the Brawlers.”
“Wow, it still looks and smells new.” I ran my fingers over the smooth and flawless dashboard. He'd obviously taken good care of it.
Ryan put the car in gear and off we went. He mused, maybe a little self-consciously, “I don't drive a bright red Lamborghini like Lance does.”
“No, but Lance is loud and obnoxious, and he needs a car that projects those qualities out into the world. This? This suits you. It's classy and luxurious and elegant on the surface, but it packs a lot of rawr under the hood.”
Ryan laughed. “Nice. I like that—a lot of rawr.”
“Not to mention … sex appeal.” I reached over to his lap and walked my hand across his built thighs, teasing the long bulge that thickened down one leg of his pants.
“Damn, Ella. Don't get me too worked up …”
“You don't want to walk into your posh brunch spot with a raging boner?” I giggled.
Ryan shook his head and stifled a laugh. “Man. See. You know you're bad, don't you.”
“Maybe.”
I snuck my hand into his lap and started rubbing his length.
“Oh, God,” he sighed. “That's so good …”
But then there was a buzzing in his pocket, against my hand. It was his cell phone. I fished into his pocket for it and handed it to him.
Ryan looked at the screen and frowned. “Shit.”
“What?”
“It's Shea. I better answer.”
He answered, and I listened to his half of the conversation.
“Hey, what's up? … Uh huh … yeah … Right. Yep. I know. … Okay. … I'm taking Ella out to brunch. … In two hours? Yeah, I guess I could make it … Alright, bye.”
He hung up and, without a word, stuffed the phone back into his pocket.
“Well? What was that?”
“Shea is trying to set up a team meeting. I'll have to stop by the rink after brunch.” Ryan tried to reassure me with a smile that this was normal, but I could see behind his eyes that something was wrong.
“A team meeting? On your day off? With such short notice?”
“Yeah, well …”
“Is it because of us?”
“Who knows?” Ryan shrugged. He looked at me and knew I wasn't buying it. “Okay, yeah, it is. But look, I don't want to let it ruin our morning. I can't control what happens, Ella, what's done is done. I just want to enjoy my time with you.”
“I'm so mad at Lance. He's such an idiot.”
“He's a good guy …”
“How can you say that, after he punched you and everything?”
But Ryan shook his head. “He only did what any good brother should do. I'd do the same thing if I had a sister.”
“Oh, really? You'd beat some poor guy up, just because he liked your sister? That's so stupid.”
Ryan grimaced. “If you say it like that, sure, it sounds stupid.”
“That's because it is stupid.”
“Maybe you're right. But there's a code we live by, and maybe it's stupid, but I still broke the stupid code.”
“I guess it's just one of those man things,” I reflected with a sigh.
“Yep.” He grabbed my hand. “Let's just enjoy our time together, Ella. Whatever happens, I'm gonna find a way through this. I'm not letting you go that easily.”
I fought back a smile. Secretly, I loved it when he talked about us like that—like we were this star-crossed couple destined to be together, to love each other for all time. Part of me thought it was absurd, that I should know better, because we'd only known each other for so short a time: how could he possibly mean what he was saying?
“You seem so sure,” I said.
“Sure about what?”
“Us.”
“All I know is that I'm crazy about you, Ella. If you tell me that you don't feel the same way about me, and you want me to leave you alone, then I will. But until that happens, you're mine, and I'm not letting anyone get in our way.”
Every time I doubted him, he answered in such a way that told me he meant those words. And why shouldn't I believe him, after everything he'd done already?
I laid my head on his round shoulder and comforted myself with his smell, his presence.