No One Like You (21 page)

“We’ll start at one end and alternate play,” the older man said. “Horse Collar is the name of the game. We’ll play to twenty-one.”

The four of them each took a practice shot to get used to the tang and biscuit. Rylan admired his grandfather’s concentration and skill. Frank had every intention of beating his grandkids. He took his stance and sent the biscuit to the opposite end of the court, toward the pinnacle of points. Zones were divided into four numbered sub-zones, the numbers representing point values.

Ten points was awarded to any player who could land the biscuit within the small triangular tip zone without touching any part of the border. The second tier was worth eight points. The third, seven. If the disk stopped within the rearmost section, the sender lost ten points. If the disk touched the edge of any section, the player lost five points.

All the practice disks but Beth’s sailed to the opposite end. Hers only made it halfway down the court. She frowned, appearing defeated before the game even started.

Rylan stepped up, settled her down. He ignored the amused glances and silent speculations on their relationship. Let them assume what they would. His concern was solely for Beth. She needed to relax and enjoy the game.

“What do your socks say?” he whispered near her ear.

She gave him a small smile.
“You can. You will.”

“Do it then,” he encouraged her. “Remember what my grandfather told you. Aim, focus, two-step delivery, stroke, follow-through. Don’t overthink it.” He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze and backed off.

Shaye eyed him as curiously as the rest of the crowd.

His grandfather nodded his approval. That meant a lot.

Halo stood off to his right. His grin split. “Good pep talk, Ry-man. Wish you’d be that nice to me in the dugout.”

“Rub my shoulders before my next at-bat and I’ll guarantee you a double,” said Zoo.

“Sweet words would go a long way toward me hitting a home run,” added Landon.

His teammates chuckled. Beth blushed.

Jerks.
Rylan didn’t take the bait. He ignored them.

“Everyone ready?” Frank asked.

Nods all around got the game underway.

Frank shot first. His disk glided to a stop on eight. Shaye went second and gained seven points. Beth came next. She drew in a breath and sent her biscuit down the elongated court. It landed on the ten, perfectly centered. She blinked, couldn’t believe her eyes. Whoops and applause followed.

“A ringer,” Halo shouted.

His granddad raised an eyebrow. “Hidden talent, I see.”

Beth exhaled. “Beginner’s luck.”

Her luck held, even after Ry knocked off her ten. He got booed. Loudly.
What the hell?
He wasn’t going to cut her any slack. He was out to win. Beth’s second ten dared Ry to go after her again. He tried, but he wasn’t successful. Shaye was forced to deduct five points each time she landed on a numbered border. Their score went downhill fast. Two of Rylan’s disks fell off the end of the board into the alley. Not to his liking.

“Too much power in your delivery,” his gramps pointed out.

Rylan’s arm was strong enough to throw a baseball from center field to home plate. He lessened the thrust on his next turn. Grounded a seven.

Frank and Beth made a good team. They won the first game. Shaye and Ry took the second by a single point. The tie-breaker went to his gramps and Ry’s assistant.

Beth had gained a fan base. His family and teammates hugged her. Zoo left his arm around her overly long.

“I worked up an appetite watching the game,” Halo commented from the sidelines. “When do we eat, Beth?”

“My stomach will be grumbling louder than Atlas if it’s not soon,” said Landon.

Beth glanced at her watch. “Anytime now,” she promised.

As if on cue, four catering vans pulled into the driveway. An assembly line of servers entered the backyard. The guests stopped what they were doing and stared at the amount of food being delivered.

“I need to direct traffic,” Beth said, cutting through the crowd toward the buffet tables.

The picnic turned international, Ry noticed. Beth hadn’t cooked; instead she’d brought in a variety of food. Italian, Mexican, and Chinese were served alongside All-American hot dogs and hamburgers. The tables rapidly filled with serving trays and covered pans. Rylan stood to the side and watched as his guests formed a line. They gathered silverware, then loaded their plastic plates.

Lasagna, spaghetti, tacos, burritos, chow mein, sweet and sour chicken were just a start. He’d never seen so much food at a picnic. Beth had outdone herself. His teammates could have seconds or thirds and not make a dent. He was feeling hungry himself and moved to the end of the line.

A hint of dusk crept across the yard. It would be dark by seven. The large solar powered lanterns did their job. He’d held the ladder for Beth when she’d hung them from branches on the banyan tree, the corners of the garage, and across the overhang on his roof. The lighting lent a softer mood to the evening. Activities would continue, but at a slower pace.

Rylan soon filled his own plate, then looked around for Beth. One sweep of the yard, and he realized she was no longer outside. He let himself into the kitchen.

There he found her, preparing dinner for his dogs. He leaned against the door and watched her work. She was talking soothingly to Atlas, who was quite put out at having been stuck inside. She promised him a walk after he ate. Ry’s throat tightened. Beth had willingly left the picnic to care for his pets. He would walk with them. No one would miss him.

Beth started when she saw him. “We’re getting ready to eat, too,” she told him. “Breakfast for dinner. Barkin’ Turkey Omelets.” She continued her preparation. Atlas helped, too. He nudged her to hurry up.

Ry crossed to the island, sat on a stool. “You haven’t eaten,” he noted.

“I’ll grab something later.”

“Or you could share my plate.” Tofu lasagna and vegetable brown rice. Baked and healthy. “Thanks for thinking of me when you planned the menu.”

“It is your picnic.” She smiled at him over her shoulder. “The spaghetti and meatballs are for me.”

He ate a bite of lasagna, complimented her. “You’re good at planning, Beth.”

“I tried.”

“You were successful. Have you ever thought about capitalizing on your talent?” he asked her. “Become a party planner? Start your own business?”

Her shoulders tensed as she thought over his suggestion. She fried up the omelets and let them cool before answering him, “Something to consider.” She sounded wistful.

He didn’t understand her apprehension.

Atlas soon gave Beth his most persuasive look, pushing her to scoop his dinner. He crossed to his raised dog bowl. Wagged his tail. Rue joined him. Oscar and Nathan took their places, too.

Beth fed them.

Ry enjoyed watching her care for his dogs. She’d accepted their habits.

She backed up against the sink and had a dish towel in hand when Atlas turned toward her. The big dog had flecks of egg on his whiskers. Beth cleaned his face. He then leaned heavily against her. She adjusted her stance to support the big boy’s weight.

“Walk?” she asked them, once they finished their meal.

They charged the front door.

She collected their dishes and set them in the sink. “They licked their platters clean.”

Ry pushed off the stool. “I’m going with you.”

“What about your guests?” she asked.

“I’m not worried about them. Those who want to stay, will stay. Those who want to leave, will leave.” He met her gaze. “I’d rather be with you.”

“You would?” Surprise parted her lips and widened her eyes.

Atlas paced before the door. Made a rumbling sound.

“He says you’re good company,” Rylan translated for her.

“I’m becoming quite fond of him,” she admitted. “Rue and the dachshunds, too.”

“We’re a misfit bunch, but somehow it works.”

“I’ll get the harnesses.” She went to collect them from the closet.

Once hooked up, the dogs were off. Laugher from the backyard brightened the night. Rylan heard Halo’s warrior whoop and figured he’d finally beaten Shaye at croquet. His teammate would’ve played all night to best his sister. He was that competitive.

Atlas balked at the end of the driveway. He tugged the handle of his leash from Rylan’s hand and took it to Beth. Beth then passed Ry the leads on the other three dogs.

Ry shook his head. “Can’t believe he likes you more than me.”

She smiled. “I bake his treats. He moaned today over peanut butter pumpkin cookies.”

“The way to a dog’s heart is through his stomach.”

“He’s a growing boy.”

“He’s the size of a pony already,” said Ry. “When he rides in my Range Rover, I vacuum the ceiling for fur. It takes three people to get him on the scale at the vet’s. He licks dishes that are in the sink. One time Dune put donuts on top of the refrigerator. I came home to find powdered sugar on Atlas’s nose. Shaye once held him straddled between her legs when the doorbell rang. She took a short, fast ride straight to the door.”

“He is a handful,” Beth agreed.

“He’s as gentle with you as he is with anyone.”

He heard her sigh, and her words were barely audible when she said, “I need gentle in my life right now.”

Had her past been difficult? he wondered. How so? He wanted to make her time with him enjoyable and easy. He’d work on it.

They stopped at a street corner. Two cars passed, and the drivers called to Atlas. Atlas barked back.

They crossed the road in silence. The street lights clicked on. Beth stood in a fluorescent glow. She’d tamed her curls for the picnic, but they’d turned wild once again. Her expression was reflective. Her shoulders slightly slumped. Atlas looked up at her as if he expected her to share her innermost secrets. She didn’t, but he got a pat on his head.

Rylan went to take her free hand. Her fingers slipped between his. Her palm was small, warm. “One or the Other,” he engaged her. “What makes you smile in hard times?”

“Memories of my parents. You?”

“My family. My dogs.” He paused, considered his next question. “Do you fight against adversity or do you withdraw?”

She was honest. “Withdraw, and wait for the right moment to wrap my head around the situation.” She cut him a glance. “You have face-and-fight written all over you.”

“I deal with situations as they arise. Problems get resolved quickly.”

She dipped her head. “I let things linger.”

“Are those things eating you up inside?” He hoped not.

“Less now than before.”

“If you ever want to talk—”

“Atlas will be there for me.”

He chuckled. “The big boy listens. I’m not so sure about his advice.”

She tipped her chin, side-glanced at Ry. “Easygoing or a firm plan of action man?” she asked.

“Low key in my downtime. Action man when I play ball.”

“Any daredevil in your soul?”

He responded with, “I took some crazy chances in my surfing days. I’m a Libra, so at heart, I like security and permanence.”

Beth wanted that, too. Stability was important to her. She’d been living her life on a tilt ever since her parents had passed away. She wanted to stand on solid ground. So very badly.

Thirty minutes later, they’d finished their loop and were a block from home when Atlas stopped and eyed Rue’s leash. He wanted to walk her the rest of the way.

“Not tonight,” Rylan told him. “I don’t want you running loose. Not with a backyard full of people.”

Atlas grumbled, sat down on the curb. Rylan blew out a breath, said, “Don’t cop an attitude with me.”

The Dane turned his head away. Snorted.

Beth bent, whispered near the dog’s ear, “Good boys get ice cream.”

Atlas’s ears flickered.

“Vanilla,” she tempted him.

He was suddenly up and tugging her toward the cottage. Her feet flew along the sidewalk. She put all her weight into hanging on.

Ry was close behind her. “We don’t have any ice cream at the house,” he reminded her. “The dogs can tolerate dairy, but it’s not all that healthy.”

“How about low-fat frozen yogurt?”

He gave in. “A small cup wouldn’t hurt, I guess. Are you running to the grocery store?”

“No, I’m having it delivered.”

The tinkling of a distant bell grew closer. Headlights fanned them as the vehicle rounded the corner. Dessert had arrived. The ice cream truck pulled into Ry’s driveway beside the catering vans.

“You are unbelievable,” Rylan said to her. “I’m surprised Foster’s Frozen Treats agreed to come by the house. Last time the vehicle was in the neighborhood, Atlas got out, and the kids scattered. My boy chased the truck for blocks before I could catch him. Alfred Foster didn’t have much business that day. I gave him fifty bucks.”

“Atlas is on his best behavior now,” Beth said as she tapped on the service window.

A man slid it open, stuck his head out. Seeing the Dane, he leaned back inside.

“Three small cups with one scoop of vanilla yogurt each,” she ordered. “One larger cup with two scoops.” She grabbed a handful of paper napkins. Atlas would eat his yogurt with gusto.

Alfred fixed her order. He passed her the smaller paper cups first, which she set on the lawn. Rue ate daintily. The dachshunds dove in. Atlas’s bigger cup came next. He gobbled and slurped his dessert. All the dogs had white muzzles by the time they’d finished. The napkins came in handy. Ry helped her clean their faces.

Guests from the backyard soon drifted around the corner of the cottage. Excitement over the ice cream truck grew with each order. Beth kept a firm grip on Atlas’s leash so he didn’t charge or jump on anyone. He was exceptionally good. Rue sat quietly as well. Rylan carried Nathan and Oscar inside. They were tired from their walk.