No One Like You (20 page)

Rylan circled her wrist with his fingers and eased her hand down. He chose not to let her go. Her back was to the sink. He had her front. He leaned into her.

Her chest rose and fell. Her breath caught. Her nipples flirted with his shirt. Her crotch pressed his thigh. Her heat stroked him. It was difficult to lecture her when they stood so close. Her body was a distraction.

He’d given her permission to hire a cleaning service, but apparently Beth preferred to do the work herself. She could be stubborn, he realized. He kept his voice even when he said, “I wanted you to take it easy today. Not exert yourself. Your face is still swollen, sore—”

“My cheek hurts whether I’m dusting, sweeping or sitting on the couch.” She stopped him before he could finish. “I needed to be productive. It took my mind off the pain.”

“I saw Atlas was helping, too?”

She gave him a small smile. “He chased the dust bunnies and I chased him. Rue and the dachshunds grew tired of the game. Pine-Sol made Nathan sneeze. I let them outside. The fenced yard came in handy.”

He looked around the kitchen. “The place looks amazing.”

“Atlas and I made a good team.”

“The big boy sent me on an errand. He has something for you,” Ry told her, ready to spring his surprise.

Atlas was steps ahead of him. The Dane had already spotted the garment and nylon bags and shoe box on the sofa. He’d gone to check them out. He was curious. Destructively so. He’d loosened the drawstring and shaken out Rylan’s beach attire. The shirts and board shorts were spread across the sofa and floor. The sunrise shirt hung over his neck. He trotted around the living room with the garment bag in his mouth. He’d found a prize and was proud of himself.

Rylan sucked air. He should never have set the items on the couch. A very stupid mistake. Anything low was easy access for Atlas. Ry didn’t want the dog tearing the bag. The present was for Beth. He whistled for the Dane. A sharp, commanding whistle. Atlas’s ears pricked.

Rylan released her hand, then patted his thigh. “Bring it here,” he said to Atlas.

He knew from experience that if he had gone after her gift, Atlas would have taken it as an invitation to play. Possibly rough. The lace blouse wouldn’t stand a chance against him. The Great Dane would chew the Levi’s like a piece of beef jerky.

“Atlas?” Beth called him, too.

He responded, delivering the garment bag—which she accepted.

Ry snagged his shirt. It wasn’t Atlas’s size. He set it on the tiled counter. “The gift is for you. From Atlas.”

Hearing his name, the dog barked and wagged himself in a circle.

Beth was slower in sharing his excitement. She stared overly long at the bag. “I don’t understand,” she finally managed, uncertain of Ry’s motive.

Rylan seldom felt self-conscious or insecure, but he did so at that moment. He went on to explain. “You deserved more than Atlas’s toys for the bruise you’re sporting. A present seemed appropriate.”

She touched her cheek. “It’s not necessary. I’m healing.”

“We like you, and wanted to do something nice.”

“But you didn’t have to,” she insisted.

He’d thought to make her happy; instead she got teary-eyed. She held the garment bag to her chest. A tear escaped, slid down her bruised cheek.

He reached around her, snagged a piece of paper towel from the roll on the counter. Passed it to her. She dabbed at her eyes. Atlas stuck his head between her arm and hip. Looked up at her. She choked up even more.

Ry felt helpless. He needed to turn the moment around. Fast. “One or the Other,” he initiated. “Leather or lace?”

“Lace.” The word was barely audible.

“Pants—cotton, silk, or denim?”

“Denim. My cutoffs and jeans have seen better days,” she admitted. “I wear them all the time. The more worn, the better.”

He was batting two for two. He moved on to the third question. “Flip-flops, sandals, shoes, or boots?”

“I don’t own a pair of flip-flops. Sandals either. I wear my message socks alone or with my Keds and cowgirl boots.” The inspiration scripted on her orange and gray paisley socks with the piano key toes said
Play Your Own Song.

He was down to two final choices. “Canvas sneakers or boots?” He needed to know her preference.

Her eyes were dry when she said, “Boots make me taller.”

Exactly as he’d figured. He knew her better than he’d thought. A part of him was pleased. The other part was nervous that he’d pegged her so well. Familiarity brought people closer. How close did he want to be with Beth? He had yet to decide. He’d take one moment at a time.

“Have a seat at the island,” he suggested. It was clear, clean, and an easy place to open her gifts.

She placed the bag carefully on the polished chestnut surface. Then perched one hip on a stool. Atlas sat beside her and rested his chin on her thigh. Beth’s hands trembled slightly as she unzipped the garment bag.

Beth Avery was afraid to open her gift. Kindness made her cry. It always had. Years had passed since she’d been given a present. The last one she remembered had come from her father. Right before he passed away. He’d given her an antique necklace. Aquamarines winked from a thin gold chain. She’d cherished the piece and kept it secured in a velvet pouch. She’d tucked the small bag in the top drawer of her dresser. Safe beneath her socks.

Rylan cleared his throat.

She realized that he and Atlas were waiting for her to unzip the bag. She did so, slowly, inch by inch. Her breath stilled when she saw the vintage lace blouse. Elegant, classic, it spoke of poetry and courting. Of romance and falling in love.

“Clothes?” she murmured in surprise.

“Something new for the picnic,” said Ry.

She looked down at her tank top and cutoffs. She tugged down the hem on her shorts. They were old. A few holes and white seams. “I’d planned to buy a new outfit when I got paid tomorrow.” She bit down on her bottom lip. “I would never embarrass you.”

“No embarrassment, ever,” he said. “Atlas was apologetic. That’s the reason for the gift.”

Slowly, she slid the blouse from the garment bag. She held it up and admired the delicate lace and glass buttons. Vintage beauty. Her heart gave a squeeze, and her stomach went soft. She laid a hand on the dog’s shoulder, then caught Rylan’s eye. “You have good taste, big guy.”

The Dane woofed. Ry smiled.

She hung the blouse on the corner of the island, explored the bag further. “Button fly Levi’s.” Her voice broke. “Oh . . . Atlas.”

Atlas raised his head, sniffed the denim.

She spoke to the Dane. “What am I going to do with you? Both of you?” she added, including Rylan.

“One box to go,” Ry told her. He pointed to the sofa. “Retrieve, Atlas.”

The dog moved so fast, Beth swore the kitchen shifted. He charged into the living room, skidded to a stop before the couch, and brought back the box, along with another of Rylan’s shirts. She’d never known the Dane to be so gentle. There wasn’t a tooth mark on the large, square box. Or a tear in Ry’s shirt.

“They can be exchanged,” Ry told her as she lifted the lid.

Her eyes rounded. Why would anyone want to return such beautiful boots? She prayed they were the right size. She took them out of the box. Then hopped off the stool and immediately tried them on over her message socks. She sighed her relief. The knee high boots fit as if they were made for her.

She walked around the kitchen, loving their feel and texture. Atlas trailed her. They did three laps around the island before she approached Rylan. She found him staring at her legs, and she took advantage of the moment. Happy and grateful, she wanted to thank him. Words didn’t seem enough. She did what came naturally. She rose on tiptoe, went to kiss him on the cheek.

Atlas gave her a last minute bump, and her ankle rolled. She fell against Rylan. She grabbed his arms. Held steady.

His big hands curved her waist. His fingertips touched at the small of her back.

She felt weak in the knees.

Ry stood stiffly.

She tipped back her head and met his gaze.

His indecision was evident. His desire, surprising. Expectancy passed between them.

She held her breath.

He released his own. His body relaxed.

Her uncertainty about kissing him was banished by his mouth coming down on hers. He’d made the decision for her. It was one she could live with.

Trust and curiosity came with his kiss. It was closed-mouth, but meaningful. He was experienced. Time fell away to sensation.

Her emotions were heightened. Vulnerability and awareness. A sense of belonging stirred the strongest.

Warmth spread in her chest. Her heart raced.

Her nipples imprinted his shirt.

She affected him, too. His erection was a dead giveaway.

He ended their kiss just as she was getting started.

She wanted more, but he denied her.

Rylan rested his forehead against her own. His eyes remained closed. She’d thrown off his breathing. That pleased her. Greatly.

Their moment slowly passed.

She knew in her heart that his kiss meant more to her than it ever would to him. No matter, she would hold tight to the memory. “Thank-you for everything,” she whispered against his cheek.
Everything
covered his kiss and her clothes. As well as the hope in her heart.

R
ylan had hoped his picnic would go well. He hadn’t expected it to be perfect. But Beth had been surprisingly adept at pulling it all together. The chaos of the morning had turned calm by afternoon. It amazed him.

Atlas followed her around as if he was part of the planning committee. Rue and the dachsies sought a quieter spot and headed for her office. Beth checked on them often, offering treats and chances to go outside.

The invitation to the picnic indicated four p.m. as the start time. However, by three-thirty his guests began to arrive. Several of his teammates couldn’t tell time and had shown up early. The entire starting lineup wore their Cates T-shirts. His family, not by blood but by scheme.

A sign near the front door directed everyone down the driveway and toward the backyard. There would be no cutting through the house. Atlas stood before the front window, his nose pressed to the glass. He barked his own personal welcome. The ballplayers all barked back.

Beth stood behind the short buffet table set up near the corner of the cottage, greeting and introducing herself to each arrival. Two huge galvanized metal buckets packed with ice anchored the ends, offering beer and soft drinks to get the picnic rolling. It got moving really fast.

Ry stood on the porch where he could keep an eye on her and still catch the incoming crowd. She’d checked the weather channel a dozen times throughout the day, making sure rain wasn’t in the forecast. He’d overheard her praying for a nice day. Her prayers had been answered.

The sun shared the sky with a stream of white clouds. The temperature sat in the low seventies. His friends and family conversed on the circular bench beneath the banyan tree. Redwood picnic tables offered additional seating. His grandfather sat on a cushioned Adirondack chair in the shade of the garage. A game of volleyball was already underway.

His sister Shaye soon played the first round of croquet. She had the Cates competitive gene. “Back off, Halo or I’ll take you out at the knees,” she said when the right fielder crowded her near the sixth wicket. She swung her mallet at him.

Halo took her warning to heart and let her hit through. He was still recovering from his groin sprain. He didn’t need a second injury.

Beth had added a last minute activity to the yard. One with his grandfather in mind. Her thoughtfulness stuck with Ry. She’d contacted a local sports company and ordered a regulation size stowable shuffleboard court. Two employees had assembled the interlocking playing surface on a slab of cement between the garage and shed. The game came with four fiberglass cues, eight regulation Ne-mar tournament disks, four black, four red.

His grandfather’s gaze had gone straight to the shuffleboard court upon his arrival, and he’d grinned from ear to ear. Beth had made the older man’s day. Frank immediately had asked her to be his partner when they took on Shaye and Ry later in the afternoon. Beth warned him that she’d never played. Frank paid the warning no mind.

Rylan turned his attention to Aidan and Jillian as they approached . “Thanks for getting my fence up so quickly.” He was appreciative. “It’s made a huge difference to the dogs. Send me a bill.”

Aidan rubbed the back of his neck. “Let’s call it even, bro. I appreciate the outfit you bought Jill, even though it’s costing me expensive dinners.” He grinned. “She meets me at the door after work, dressed up and wanting to dine out.”

Dune flagged down Aidan from across the yard, and Aidan went to speak with him. That gave Jill a moment to lean close to Ry and say, “Your PA is adorable. I’m not the only one who thinks so. Several Rogues haven’t made it past the entrance table.”

Ry was aware of the bottleneck. Zoo, Will Ridgeway, and Jake Packer were taken with his assistant. Will and Jake had gone ahead and gotten the
trending
team haircut. Zoo would hold out until the last minute. He tended to be vain.

“You found Beth the ideal gift,” Jill complimented him. “Not every woman could pull off that lace blouse, but she can. And she looks cute doing it. I haven’t seen 501 Levi’s in forever. Beth’s attracting a lot of attention.”

Beth looked hot, Ry had to admit. She was also personable and complimentary. She’d researched each player on the Internet and was informed on their careers. The men were proud of their accomplishments and would be drawn to her knowledge and praise.

Jill left Ry and went to join her husband.

Ry next talked to several hometown friends. He caught up on local news.

Zoo approached him shortly thereafter, swaggering up the porch steps, looking smug. “Beth sent me for another bucket of beer. It’s in the laundry room.”

Ry stalled him. “I’ll get it for her.”

“She asked me,” Zoo insisted.

“My laundry room.”

A frown came from Zoo before his smile flickered. “That’s the way of it, is it?”

Ry responded with, “What way?”

“Your picnic, your beer, your PA. All yours.”

Pretty much so,
Ry thought, but didn’t let on. Instead, he went with an excuse. “My dogs are inside. I don’t want them getting out.”

“I’ve blocked Atlas in the past when we’ve played touch football. He won’t get by me.”

Rylan narrowed his gaze, stared Zoo back a step.

“Fine.” The left fielder shrugged. “I’ll guard the door while you shoulder the bucket.”

Ry turned and entered the cottage. His Great Dane met him in the kitchen with a series of low grumbles. He read Ry the riot act for keeping him inside when there were so many people to meet. But set free, the Dane would be disruptive.

Rylan rubbed the dog’s ears. “Not now, big guy. Maybe later.” Once the crowd thinned.

Atlas jumping for volleyballs or knocking into his grandfather Frank would ruin the afternoon. Atlas already added one deflated volleyball to his collection of toys.

Ry located the ice bucket, hefted it. Bottles of Heineken clinked against Coors Light. Landshark tapped Snow Bear. Beth had made the selections. She’d covered everyone’s taste and then some.

Atlas trailed him to the door. “Stay,” Ry said.

Atlas sat and whined. Pitifully.

Ry shook his head. The boy had a future in acting.

Rylan carefully took the steps, crossed the yard, and made his delivery. Beth stood alone for the first time that afternoon. He momentarily had her all to himself.

She looked up, broke into a smile. “I sent Zoo and got you.” Her eyes were a soft blue. She was glad to see him.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“I’ve met everyone,” she told him. “Your friends are fun, your teammates, insane, and your family couldn’t be nicer.” She touched the side of her face. “I look awful, but no one except Halo has mentioned my bruise. He kissed my cheek; said he had healing lips.”

That sounded like Halo.

“I’m glad I haven’t had to explain what happened.”

“That’s because I explained it for you.”

She blinked. “You did? When?”

“Texting is quick and efficient. Two sentences, and word spread. I didn’t want you facing a lot of unnecessary questions.”

She breathed easier. “Thank-you. I hated to blame Atlas.”

He studied her face. “Your bruise has faded. You look more jaundiced than black and blue.”

She blanched. “That’s appealing.”

“Yellow seems to be my teammates’ favorite color today,” he teased her. He wondered how many of the guys had made a move on her. Had asked her out. He didn’t want her dating any of them.

Not since their kiss in the kitchen.

Atlas’s nudge had landed her in his arms. Her eyes had widened in astonishment. He’d taken up where she’d left off. He’d kissed the surprise from her parted lips. He’d kept the kiss soft, light, tentative. She’d responded with a shy intimacy that gave him a hard-on.

His physical reaction had stopped him short. He could have lifted her onto the kitchen island or walked her backward to her bedroom. Kissing her all the way. Turning her on.

Instead, he’d stepped back. He knew in his heart that was for the best. He wasn’t certain she was ready for him. He wasn’t yet sure he was ready for her, either. Acting on attraction was not wise. But was any man ever smart when it came to sex? Debatable.

Beth turned toward the yard, took in the activities. “Did you expect everyone to show? Were there any can-celations?”

“I counted heads a few moments ago,” he told her. “The gang’s all here.”

“I need to set out munchies,” she said. “We have two hours before the main meal.”

“What are you serving?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Wait and see.” She sounded secretive.

Fine. He hadn’t seen much of her the past two days. He’d had town and team obligations, and she’d kept the house in order. She’d texted him with messages and updates. They’d passed in the kitchen at first light, then again right before bed.

He hadn’t noticed any major food prep or lingering scents of her cooking, so she hadn’t slaved over a hot stove, but she had something up her sleeve. He’d enjoy her surprise with the rest of his guests.

“I’ll help you with the snacks,” he offered.

She nodded toward the crowd. “Shouldn’t you be mingling?”

“I’ve known most of these people all my life. We stay in touch. There’s nothing new going on. I’ll keep an eye on my teammates so they don’t get rowdy.”

Remarkably enough, the guys drank in moderation. Respect for Beth limited their intake. Ry noticed Halo and Landon had switched to soft drinks after a six-pack. He wouldn’t have believed it, had he not seen it.

Additional buffet tables were set up along the front of the porch, to the left of the steps. He and Beth filled and brought out straw baskets of chips and sides of dip, mixed nuts, and vegetable platters. She’d kept it simple, so no one would spoil their dinner. Atlas got a treat, too. She sliced an apple for the boy. His howl of appreciation echoed into the backyard.

The Rogues ate the snacks as if they hadn’t seen food for a week.

Typical,
Ry thought. His heart squeezed when Beth prepared a small plate of vegetables for his grandfather and took it to him. She pulled up a beach chair, sat, and engaged him in conversation. Frank appeared pleased to see her. The corners of his eyes crinkled. His gramps was a meat and potato man, yet he ate the celery and carrot sticks as if they were a regular part of his diet.

“Ry-man, v-ball?” Landon called to him once the snacks were consumed. “Four Rogues against Dune and Mac.” Ballplayers against pro-volleyball’s world champs? Why not?

Ry crossed to the court. Dune grinned at him. “I like your duds.”

So did Ry. He wore the sunrise-over-the-pier designer button-down with a pair of solid brown board shorts. He didn’t need a Cates T-shirt to know who he was. Barefoot worked for him.

Zoo, Landon, Will Ridgeway, and Rylan made up the Rogues’ side of the net.

“No Halo?” Ry asked. The right fielder loved competition and was always in the mix.

Zoo smirked. “The man who’d do anything for tail is standing down,” he said, referring to the horse on the merry-go-round. Word had spread about Halo’s mishap. “There’s too much jumping and diving on the court. Halo’s barely walking. He’s sticking with croquet.”

Ry got in position. Dune tossed him the volleyball; he would serve first. He glanced at Beth and his grandfather from the corner of his eye. They’d turned their chairs toward the court and watched the action.

Athletes liked to shine, even in a sport in which they weren’t adept. Ry bemoaned the fact his first serve landed in the net. His second cleared it by half an inch. The Rogues played with a winning passion. There was taunting between the sides. Most was friendly. Rylan made some nice plays. Will could dive. Zoo had jump. Landon, a decent spike. At the end of forty minutes, volleyball’s best won by a score of twenty-one to sixteen.

“We’ve still got it.” Dune high-fived his professional partner, Mac James.

“You’ll never lose it,” said Rylan.

“Killer final point,” Zoo said to Dune. “Damn, dude, did you have to aim for my feet?” He’d played barefoot.

“You hopped around like a girl,” Landon said as he left the court.

Zoo defended himself, “I could’ve broken a freakin’ toe.”

“Not a break, but a sharp sting,” said Dune.

The men wanted to cool off. They headed toward the ice buckets for something to drink.

Ry stopped to speak with Beth and his gramps. “How’d I do?” he asked Frank.

“Don’t give up your day job.”

Rylan laughed. He patted his granddad on the shoulder. “Dune has the monopoly on volleyball.”

Beth’s voice was soft when she said, “I thought you were wonderful.”

“Wonderful when?” he teased her. “When I hit the volleyball out of bounds or stepped outside the lines multiple times?”

“When you spiked the ball into Mac’s chest.”

“Yeah, that was a good shot,” he agreed. He glanced down on his grandfather. “How about that game of shuffleboard?”

Frank rose, his energy defying his age. He held out his hand to Beth. “Young lady, ready to send the biscuit?”

She took his hand, stood, her expression reluctant.

“We’ll go over the terminology and rules before we play,” said Frank. He then called to Shaye, who was wrapping up another game of croquet.

She’d kicked Halo’s ass once again and pumped her mallet in the air. Halo wasn’t looking all that happy. He complained of being beaten by a girl.

Frank led the way to the shuffleboard court.

Everyone at the picnic followed. They clustered around the edges. Frank raised his arms, flexed his elbows, said, “Give us room.” Family, friends, and teammates granted his request. They took one giant step back.

His grandfather passed out the sticks, called tangs, that would push the weighted disks, referred to as biscuits. Beth listened intently as Frank went over the object of the game and the scoring.