No One Like You (22 page)

Beth listened as everyone ordered. Shaye chose an orange Creamsicle; her husband Trace got a Fudgsicle.

Dune decided on an ice cream sandwich. His pregnant wife Sophie wanted two scoops of strawberry shortcake.

Halo Todd had a Chipwich.

Landon Kane a blueberry snow cone.

Zoo opted for a Snickers Ice Cream Bar.

Grandfather Frank had a butterscotch sundae with whipped cream and two cherries.

The guests were soon full and moving slow. The caterers wrapped and refrigerated the leftover food, then departed. The ice cream truck backed out of the driveway shortly thereafter.

Beth put Rue and Atlas in the house. The Dane groused all the way. She then stepped back outside. Rylan’s friends, family, and teammates were letting their meals settle. They sat on chairs and benches in the backyard, talking quietly. Some stayed another hour; others, two.

“Best picnic, ever, Rylan,” Shaye said to her brother when he joined them on the porch. “I had a great time.”

Beth was seated next to his sister. She was surprised, but pleased, when he settled on the wide wooden arm of her Adirondack chair. His thigh brushed her arm. He leaned his elbow on the back curve of the chair. He sat so close, his heat and scent seemed a physical touch.

“The picnic was all Beth,” Ry said, giving her the credit.

“She’s missing her calling, working for you, dude,” Halo commented as he climbed the porch steps, then hiked his hip on the railing.

Shaye pursed her lips, said to Beth, “I have a boardwalk luncheon scheduled in two weeks for shop owners and city councilmen. Can I borrow you?”

Rylan spoke for her. “Don’t borrow Beth—hire her. She’s starting a side business.”

She was?
Beth didn’t want to contradict him; it would be impolite. However, she wasn’t certain she was ready for a second event. One success didn’t erase the wedding disaster of the previous summer.

Shaye smiled encouragingly. “Jillian and I will be throwing Sophie a baby shower at the end of the month. We would hire you in a heartbeat.”

Jill sat close enough to take part in the conversation. “Aidan and his partner Mike need someone to plan an appreciation cocktail party for the financiers of a new shopping mall. The job’s yours, if you want it.”

Three jobs offered in under a minute. Beth couldn’t believe the turn of events. “This is unexpected.” Her voice was soft with emotion. “Let me give it some thought and get back to you.”

“Deal,” said Shaye. She crossed her fingers. “I’m hoping you’ll agree. Barefoot William doesn’t have a party planner, but we do a lot of celebrating. You’d have a steady clientele.”

Halo showed his support. “Planning parties is a great opportunity. You wouldn’t be out of a job when you’re done working for Ry-man. Maybe you could rent his cottage when he heads back to Richmond.”

Beth was overwhelmed. “Maybe . . .” was all she could say.

“Or she could start up her business in Richmond,” Ry suggested.

“We need her here more,” said his sister.

“I beg to differ, I need her—” Rylan stopped himself from saying more. A muscle flexed in his jaw.

Rylan needing her?
Didn’t make sense to Beth. Whatever had he meant? There was no way of knowing. He’d clammed up.

A curious silence settled over the group. All eyes were on Rylan and Beth. She wasn’t used to being the center of attention. Color climbed into her cheeks. She grew uncomfortable. Ry kept his composure. The man was rock solid.

Shaye yawned, stretched, commented, “It’s getting late. Time to call it a night.”

Halo glanced at his watch. “It’s only nine o’clock.”

Shaye moved him along. “Past your bedtime.”

He pulled a face. “You kicking us out?”

She nodded. “Rylan’s too polite, so I’m speaking for him.” She turned to her granddad. “We’re leaving.”

Frank was nodding off. Her husband Trace helped him to his feet.

Ry stood then, too. Beth shared his spotlight when the guests thanked him and filed out. She was treated as half a couple. It felt nice.

Halo and Landon were the last to leave. They hinted at an invitation to lunch the next day, to help finish off the leftovers. Ry shook his head and suggested Molly’s Diner for their next meal. They looked disappointed.

Beth gave in. “A plate to go?”

The men grinned like little boys.

Halo pushed by Rylan and held the kitchen door for her. Landon was right behind him. Atlas met them with a woof and a wag.

“Where’s Rue and the weenies?” Landon asked.

“Sleeping,” Beth guessed. “Atlas likes the action; they’re lights out.”

“I want a clean plate, one that Atlas hasn’t licked,” said Halo. “I’ve caught him with his head in the sink and the dishwasher. The boy goes after the last crumb.”

Beth located paper plates in the cupboard then opened the refrigerator door. The guys leaned in behind her. Crowded her.

A second later, Rylan put his hands on their shoulders and drew them back. “Let the lady breathe,” he told his teammates.

“Atlas gets to stick his nose in the fridge,” Halo noted.

“It’s his house,” Beth reminded the man.

“Atlas is sniffing the tacos,” Halo said. “He’s going to inhale the cheese.”

Landon frowned. “His mouth is too close to the bowl of chow mein.”

“Relax, guys,” Beth assured them. “There’s plenty for everybody.”

She chose Atlas over the men to feed first. In the Dane’s case, he got a snack. She would have heated the small bowl of vegetarian rice, but he was anxious and ate it cold. Rylan tossed her the drool towel; otherwise her Levi’s would’ve been speckled with rice. Rylan called the big dog to him, so Beth could fix plates for his teammates.

“No, I’m not sharing,” Halo said to Atlas on his way to the door. The dog trailed him, nearly tripping him up.

Landon was more generous. He slipped Atlas a meatball. The Dane chewed twice, swallowed. There was a trace of spaghetti sauce beneath his nose. The dog wiped it on Landon’s leg.

“Nice manners,” Landon muttered.

“You’ve wiped your mouth on the shoulder of your T-shirt,” Rylan reminded him. “Left barbecue stains.”

“Brown Bag in Atlanta,” Landon remembered. “There were no napkins on the table.” He passed Atlas a second meatball before darting out the door. “Your boy needs a bib.”

The door clicked, and Rylan locked it behind them. He ran one hand down his face. “It’s been a long day, and those two only make it longer.”

Beth understood. “They tend to drag things out.”

“In everything they do.”

She exhaled slowly. “I want to make a final sweep of the yard. Make sure the volleyballs and croquet mallets got put away.”

“Two can check quicker than one.” Rylan followed her outside. Atlas crossed the porch behind them, only to turn around. The guests had disappeared. He stood in the doorway instead.

Beth checked the ground closely. She found a shuffleboard disk in the bushes. Ry located a croquet ball at the base of the banyan tree. They were headed back toward the porch when she heard a ticking sound, followed by a
chchch-kutkutkut.
She looked around, trying to locate the source.

Rylan knew immediately. “Sprinklers,” he said, right before they both got sprayed. “Automatic timers are set for ten o’clock.”

Sprinklers were better than a thunderstorm. Still, they were getting wet. “My blouse.” She needed to protect the vintage lace.

He grabbed her hand, and they made a dash for the cottage. He ran ahead of her, taking the brunt of the water pressure. Her blouse was saved, but her hair and jeans were soaked. Water drops darkened the suede on her boots. She hoped they would dry without leaving spots. Rylan stood in a puddle of water on the porch. He slicked back one side of his hair. His eyelashes were spiked. A droplet tipped his nose. The man looked good wet.

He shook himself off like a dog. Then grinned at her. “I learned that from Atlas.”

“That’s one way of drying off,” she said. “We should get out of our wet clothes.” The water was cold, and the evening had cooled.

He nodded his agreement. They traipsed into the house, leaving watery footprints on the hardwood floor. Atlas followed, gave them each a sniff and then wandered off. Damp clothes didn’t hold his interest.

Rylan stopped at the island and sent her a look. “Thank-you for a great day.”

She reached for the roll of paper towels on the counter, tore off several sheets, dabbed her face. “I’m glad it turned out so well,” she said, and meant it. “You never know when a good day will turn bad. Fortunately, everyone had left before the sprinklers kicked on.”

She recalled the Statton wedding, which was on constant replay in her mind. The bridal party and guests had suffered a thunderstorm. Water was water, whether dropped from the sky or rising from underground sprinklers. Those in attendance had been drenched, bitter, and angry at her. The memory still made her shudder.

Rylan made her feel better by saying, “Had we gotten wet, we would’ve dried ourselves. Laughed it off.” He made it sound so simple. “The sprinklers were my fault. I’d forgotten the lawn service set the timers for Saturday night.”

Beth appreciated his calm. His logic. He put everything into perspective. She rubbed her arms, stomped her feet. Her toes grew cold, and she slipped off her boots, right there in the kitchen. Her socks came next. “I need a new pair.” Picking up her boots, she headed for her bedroom.

Rylan went behind her, turning off lights. It appeared he was calling it a night. She was close to doing so, too.

“Got a minute, Beth?” he quietly asked from the hallway.

The door was cracked, and her answer carried back to him. “Be right there.” She slipped on a fresh pair of orange and green plaid socks with the message
Hug Yourself
across the cuff ribbing. Her wet jeans clung to her legs. She thought to change out of them, but decided instead to see what Rylan might want.

He stood by the stair railing, his arms at his sides. He looked stiff and serious. Slightly worried. He collected himself, said, “I want to run something by you.” The words seemed difficult to say. “I need a PA, and you’re ideal for the position. But I’d never hold you to the job, if there was something else you’d rather do.”

“Like what?” She was confused.

“Something beneficial to you,” he specified. “Today’s success suggests party planning. Starting your own business.”

“You’ve already pimped me out to your sister.”

“I thought it a good idea at the time, although maybe not so much now. Shaye and Jill would hire you in a heartbeat. You would have steady customers.”

Her heart slowed. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“I’d like you to stay,” he admitted. “I also want what’s best for you.”

There was no doubt in her mind. “I’m yours for seven more weeks,” she told him. “That’s not going to change. I’ll be available to Shaye and Jill part-time, in my off hours.”

“You’re certain?”

“I’m positive.”

“Atlas will be relieved.”

A comfortable silence settled between them. They stared at each other with awareness and new understanding. He cleared his throat, continued. “I might let you stay on at my cottage after spring training, rent free. We could call it a bonus. This would be a great place to establish your business. You could work from home.”

Home
sounded warm and welcoming. Secure. “We’ll see,” was all she could give him at that moment.

He went toward her then, standing so close she could feel his heat, breathe in his scent. “You’ve yet to see the entire floor plan. Care to come upstairs?”

Foreplay, she thought. If she climbed those stairs with him, she wouldn’t return until morning.
Why not?
Treasured moments were few and far between.

He offered his hand. She took it. They climbed the steps together. Halfway up, she heard the padding of paws and glanced over her shoulder. Atlas, Rue, and the dachsies were on the move. They’d popped their heads around her bedroom door. They watched her and Ry until they reached the second floor. Atlas turned in a circle, whimpered.

“Stay, gang,” Rylan called down to them.

Atlas sent them a soulful look before stretching out at the base of the steps. Rue curled up beside him. Oscar and Nathan returned to their dog beds in her room.

“A little privacy is always nice,” he said.

Very nice, indeed,
Beth thought.

He led her down the narrow hall. They passed a room with workout equipment before entering the place where he slept. He flipped on the overhead light, and Beth took a moment to look around.

There were no surprises. The space was airy and simple. A large window above his bed let the night in. Basic cotton sheets and a comforter made his bed. The headboard fascinated her. Arched and scrolled, it was old and solid. She ran her hand over the heavy metal frame.

Ry satisfied her curiosity, saying, “An iron gate from an old church. Purchased at an auction, sponsoring a homeless shelter.”

A short bedside table, corner wardrobe, small computer table and laptop completed the furniture. Sparse, but functional.

She drew a deep breath and sighed. There they stood, both rooted to their spots. She had no idea what to do next. Fluff his pillows? Turn down the bed? Her nerves got the better of her. She shivered, and goose bumps rose.

Ry reached out and briskly rubbed her arms. “You’re cold, and need to get out of your wet clothes. I’ll warm you up.”

The friction made her tingle. With each touch, she grew warmer. The heat from his skin dried her own.

She stood utterly still as he unbuttoned her lace blouse. The glass buttons appeared smooth and delicate against his callused hands. Ever so gently, he slipped it off her shoulders. Draped it over the back of his computer chair so it wouldn’t wrinkle. He then went to work on her button fly. He fumbled with the top brass button. She heard him mumble, “Zippers are easier.”