The Calendar Brides (13 page)

Her face felt hot. “Oh, hi! I wasn’t sure anyone was in there,” she lied. “Thought maybe you left the back door open.”

He strode toward her, then leaned against the inside of the truck. “That could be dangerous, don’t you think?”

“Dangerous?”

“Leaving things unlocked and unattended.” He lips twitched. “From what I hear, there are bank robbers around.”

“Probably other villainous types, too,” she agreed.

“I’m not one of those, you know.” He tilted his chin to the side. “One of the bad guys.”

“How do I know I can take you at your word?”

“You probably can’t. But you can take my sister’s.” He stunned her by pulling a cell from his back pocket and punching in some numbers.

“What are you doing?” she asked in shock.

“Providing you with verification.”

“Verification?”

His gaze locked on hers and mirth danced in his eyes. “How else am I going to ask you out?”

He must have pressed the speaker button because Lena could hear a phone ringing on the other end of the line. “You don’t know me from Adam. You might be skeptical. Cautious. And I wouldn’t blame you. I’ve got a sister myself, you know. That’s who I’m call—”

“Hello?” It was a woman’s voice. She sounded like an adult, but a young one.

“Trace, it’s Ryan.”

“I know who you are. It’s on my—”

“I need you to vouch for me.”

“Vouch? What are you talking—?”

“I’ve made this new friend, see, and—”

“
Friend,
Ryan? Is she pretty?”

He hadn’t taken his eyes off Lena. “Very.”

Lena flushed.

“Well, it’s about damn time. Ever since—”

“You know,” he continued calmly, “I’m not really up for talking about that. Besides…” He grinned at Lena. “You’re on speaker.”

“Holy crap, Ryan!” She sounded giddily enthusiastic. “She’s there?”

“Say hi to Lena.”

Lena couldn’t believe any of this. This was positively insane, and sweet and endearing. And what on earth was he doing?

“Hi, Lena!” Trace exclaimed. “Be nice to my baby brother!”

Lena giggled with disbelief. “Hi, Trace!” she shouted back.

“So where’s he taking you?” Trace wanted to know.

“I…he…” She stared at Ryan and blinked. “He hasn’t really asked yet.”

“Damn, Ryan!” Trace yelped back. “What’s wrong with you? She sounds perfectly awesome!”

Ryan covered the mouthpiece and whispered to Lena. “Heard enough?” He coyly lifted one shoulder. “If not, I could call my mother.”

Lena burst out laughing, unable to control herself. “You’re crazy!”

“Maybe just a little, but not in a dark way.”

“Ryan?” Trace called. “Ryan, you still there?”

He removed his hand and spoke back into the receiver. “Yeah, sis. Thanks. Thanks a lot!”

“We’re hanging up now?”

“I’ve got something important to do.”

“Well, don’t screw it up!”

“Bye, Trace…”

“Bye, Lena!” she chirped brightly.

Lena swallowed hard. She’d never had a guy do anything like this before. Then again, she’d never met Ryan until now.
 

“So…” he said casually, hopping down out of the back of the truck. “I was wondering, if you’re not busy later…?”

“I’ve got a show at six.”

“I meant afterward.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Anything that you’d like.”

“A beer somewhere?”

“I was going to suggest a bottle of wine.”

“Yeah?”

“On the beach, maybe.”

“Hmm.”

“Or not.” He gave her a lazy grin and her cheeks warmed. “We could sit on a park bench like hobos.”

“We’ll get arrested for drinking in public.”

“In Chandelier? Really?”

“Where are you from, Ryan, baby brother to Trace?”

“Kind of all over the place. How about you?”

“I asked the question first.”

“Port Charles, the next county over.”

“Is that where Trace lives?”

“And my mother. I can take you there to meet them both.”

“You don’t even know me!”

“Ah yes. That’s true.” He eyed her astutely like he knew a secret. “But something tells me we’re going to be close.”

“Not too cocky, are we?”

“Actually, I have a fairly deflated sense of self.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Let me prove it to you.”

“What?”

“How humble I can be.”

Lena shifted her guitar strap on her shoulder. “How do you intend to do that?”

“By packing you a picnic supper to go with the wine.”

“You’re making me dinner?”

“I make damn good subs.” He grinned and she couldn’t help grinning back. “How do you take yours?”

Ryan leaned across the countertop that divided their small galley kitchen from the living area of their studio apartment. “Want banana peppers on yours?” It was two years later to the day, and he was making them an anniversary dinner replicating the first meal they’d shared. Lena looked up from where she sat cross-legged on a beanbag chair, her notebook resting on one knee. She used the marbled kind that kids had in grade school, and had the habit of making personal notes on the front of each page, while scribbling lyrics on the back.

One of these days she hoped to sell some tunes to Nashville, maybe even hear them on the radio. She’d been submitting songs to music publishers on the sly, thinking it best to tell Ryan only after the unlikely event of success. She’d be embarrassed for him to see the list of rejection emails in her inbox. The places that didn’t answer you at all were even worse.
 

Lena noticed he’d propped a new candle in the old wine bottle that stood on their secondhand card table. On their first date, they’d sat on a park bench and drunk wine from a paper bag “like hobos” while enjoying Ryan’s homemade subs. “I want mine exactly like you made it before.”

She smiled and Ryan couldn’t help but think she looked even prettier than when he’d seen her the first time. She had no makeup on and wore one of his old T-shirts and ratty jeans, but she looked like a movie star to him, the highlights in her light brown hair absorbing the warmth of the sunshine. Their apartment only had one window, but it was a large one. This time of year, they kept it open to let in the autumn breeze. She set her pen in her notebook to mark her place and flipped the book shut. As she did, a small diamond glinted on her left hand beside a modest wedding band. Ryan was proud of the fact that he’d paid cash for both rings, and hadn’t had to purchase them on credit. Shortly after meeting Lena, he’d taken a better job managing a rental truck company. Someday, he hoped to run his own business. Who knew? The two of them might even have kids. But it was probably a little soon to think of that. They’d only been married eight months.

“What you working on in the book there?” he asked her. She’d been keenly focused on something for the past week, but atypically hadn’t said much about it.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she asked with a saucy lilt.

He laughed and settled down on his elbows, clasping his hands together. “Yeah, I would.”

She met his gaze and his heart ca-chunked, like a phone book spinning around in a dryer. She’d had that effect on him from the beginning. It was almost painful, but he’d take it any day.
 

“I’m working out what I’m going to say,” she told him. “For the calendar.”

“I hope you’re saying something nice?”

She put down her notebook and scrambled to her feet. “Ryan,” she said walking to him. “It couldn’t be
anything but
outstanding.”

He turned to her and held out his arms. “You’re outstanding.” She folded herself in his embrace and he pulled her in close, right up against his chest, his heart thudding. Soft hands slid up his arms and his neck, trailing across the small patch on his chin, then to his mouth. He lowered his head and she kissed him, her eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks like tiny butterflies. “No, you are,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. Her chest flattened against his, her womanliness pressing into him. It was all he could do to stand there and think about finishing dinner.
 

Lena’s kisses deepened and his hands traveled, exploring parts of her he longed to touch further.
Ah, to hell with dinner.
“How about we eat those subs in bed?” he growled between hungry kisses.

“How about we wait?” she purred back. Her grasp plummeted to the seat of his jeans and she arched up against him. Ryan moaned, his whole freaking body on fire. He was a torch and she was his flame, heating him up from the inside out, so blasted hot he was going to combust. He couldn’t think so he didn’t answer. All he could do was respond to those two little words in his soul, the ones he heard whenever she was near.
Love Lena.
And so he carried her to their threadbare futon, and he did.

Chapter Twelve

Trish

Trish sighed and moved the parsley behind the paprika. Somebody had been messing up the spice cabinet again, and that somebody stood right behind her.

“Hey, babe,” Leo said, sauntering into the kitchen. Leo was the only man she’d ever known to
saunter.
No matter what the hurry, he never appeared in a rush. “What’s cooking?”

“I was going to make chocolate chip cookies when I got home tonight.” She glanced over her shoulder, her blunt-cut hair swinging behind her. Her cousins called her a redhead, but she knew she was strawberry blonde. Nobody guessed that this rendition came from a bottle. Trish had found her first strands of gray last year, and now took pains to cover them up. Her locks were her distinguishing feature from the others, and they made her look Irish. Though her dark brown eyes gave away the other part of her heritage. “But someone seems to have hidden the ingredients.”

“Don’t look at me!” Leo protested. He strode to the coffeepot and jiggled it, finding it empty. “Want more? I can brew another pot.”

“Better not,” she said. “It will give me the jitters.”

He pressed his lips together and tilted his head.

“What?” she asked, annoyed. “What is it?”

“I’m just glad to see you’re taking my advice. Cutting back on the caffeine.”

“Didn’t you just offer me some?”

“Yeah. But you refused.” He cracked a smile, dark eyes dancing. “Shows restraint.”

He turned to the sink and began filling the pot anyway.

“I thought you weren’t making any?”

“I don’t get the jitters,” he teased. He was broad-shouldered and toned from spending countless hours on his feet. Leo was the chef at an upscale Italian restaurant, though he rarely cooked at home. That was Trish’s job and sometimes she resented it, especially after a long day at the office. This week, they’d done quarterly accounting. She’d been burning the midnight oil, and would be doing so again this evening. “But I do have a long day,” he continued. “Dante’s coming in.”

“What’s he want?”

“Word is he’s changing the menu.”

“Again? But the new one’s working.”

“It’s working so well, Dante figures whatever he changed before, he wants to change it more.”

“You’re joking!”

He ladled grounds into the pot and set it to brew. “Nope, but it’s no big deal.”

Trish sometimes got irritated by how casual he was about things. Leo was invested in the restaurant, and he knew it best. Shouldn’t he care?

He met her gaze in an unnervingly even way. “I only change what I want to.” He shrugged and pulled two mugs from the cabinet. “He never pays much attention anyway.”

“I said I didn’t want coffee.”

He walked to her and gave her forehead a kiss. “That’s why I made decaf.”

She looked up at him, her sour mood lifting. Gosh darn him, there he was doing it again. Making her feel like the world was okay. “So, Dante won’t know whether you’ve changed things or not?”

“Oh, sure, he’ll check the menu. That’s why I’ll give things lots of impressive new names. Like Vermicelli Carbonara becoming Pasta Angelica. I’ll add a few things in. A little dash of nutmeg…a fresh spring of parsley.
Voilà!
” He scrunched his fingers against his lips and kissed them. “A brand new dish!”

“
Voilà
is French,” she told him flatly.

“Dante doesn’t speak Italian.”

“Neither do you.”

“No one in your family does, either.”

“That’s not true. You’re forgetting Bev. And Nona.”

He brought a hand to her chin in an amorous fashion. “You’re so cute when you’re out of sorts, but I’m sorry. What is it? PMS time?”