In Bed with Mr. Wrong

Chapter Thirteen

Not taking advantage of that silently offered kiss might have been a mistake, but Ryan wasn’t about to give in to how badly he wanted her. Not when she hadn’t figured out her issues and he couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t toss him aside immediately afterward so she could retreat behind her emotional walls. He guided her back to the spot on the couch she’d just occupied, picked up the fallen tea mug and plate of sandwiches, and retreated to the kitchen.

While he went to work throwing together another sandwich for her, she looked over her shoulder at him. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Sure I do. You dumped half your tea on the other one. Can’t have you passing out halfway through our game.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Scrabble.”

“Scrabble. Monopoly. Cards. We don’t have a lot in the way of options, but I figured you’d want a change in pace from the reading.” Ryan gave her a grin that had gotten him out of loads of trouble as a kid. “Though I could definitely get on board with some more Dmitri and Savannah.”

“No, thank you.”

“So a game it is, then.” When she still hesitated, he pushed his advantage. “It’s got to be better than locking yourself in the room alone, right?”

She smiled a little, as if that was exactly what she’d been planning on doing before he headed her off at the pass. “It’s a tempting offer.”

“I’ll throw in dinner tonight, too.” He lifted the plate with her new sandwich. “I promise not to bite.” No matter how much you want me to.

A blush spread across her cheeks, signaling that her mind had gone the same place his did. He didn’t call her on it, though. Instead he grabbed the board game and sat down, pausing long enough to pass over her plate.

He started setting up the game, but the majority of his attention stayed on her as she took her first bite. “I promise to go easy on you. You know, in favor of us continuing to get along without fighting.”

“You’ll go easy on me?” Her faint smile turning into the real thing. “Promise?”

He decided he liked this little hint of arrogance she’d showed. He mixed up the letter tiles. “Want to make this interesting?”

“Don’t you dare say we’ll turn this into strip Scrabble.”

Well, now that she mentioned it, that wasn’t a terrible idea. No, Flannery. You’re supposed to be behaving yourself, remember? That means clothing stays in place. “I was thinking something more along the lines of a wager.”

“A bet?” If anything, her smile spread wider. “Winner takes all?”

She really wasn’t helping his self-control saying things like that with a sparkle in her eyes, because now all he could think about was taking her. He cleared his throat. “I was thinking of something a little less dramatic. If I win, you tell me about your childhood.”

Bri flinched, her teasing disappearing as if it’d never been. “I don’t see the point.”

In their earlier conversation, he’d seen a sliver of what she’d been hiding. It was clear she wasn’t giving up more than that tiny bit of information without a fight. “That’s what I want if I win. Your turn.”

“This is juvenile.”

“Maybe. Stop stalling and pick something.”

“I don’t even know.” Her face flamed again, showing her lie more clearly than anything else could have.

Ryan leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. He waited as she shifted, becoming more twitchy as the seconds ticked past. When she looked over her shoulder toward the hallway, he said, “Anything you want.”

She closed her eyes for a brief moment and then opened them, her shoulders going back as if she were stepping onto a battlefield. Maybe she thought she was. “I want a kiss.”

Because of the effort it had obviously taken her to say the words out loud, he didn’t laugh. He held out a hand and shook hers firmly. “Deal. If you win, I think I can make that happen.”

“If I win.” This time her laugh was significantly more carefree. “Ryan, you’re playing Scrabble with a librarian who thinks a fun Friday night is curling up with some tea and a new book. You don’t stand a chance.”

He definitely liked this cocky side of her. And since they weren’t yelling at each other, this was a step in the right direction. “I guess we’ll see. Ladies first.”

…

“…and with the triple word score, that brings me up to forty-six points.”

Bri stared at the columns of numbers on her score sheets and couldn’t believe it. She was down to her last four tiles and Ryan was beating her by a truly embarrassing amount. It was her own hubris at fault. She assumed that her history of reading would give her an edge—she hadn’t stopped to consider his reading history. Maybe it was time to acknowledge that she’d been an ass for letting her issues color her perception of him. This man was more than just the wild boy who’d burned down the high school and set her blood on fire. Realizing that wouldn’t change their past interactions much, but it did affect their future ones.

Particularly the one where she lost this game and was forced to open up all sorts of old scars she didn’t want to deal with.

They said time healed all wounds. They lied. The only way she’d gotten past her abandonment issues was to create a life for herself where she was as safe as possible, full of people who weren’t going anywhere. The fact that Avery and Drew were the only people on that list was kind of sad, but she was okay with it. Once those two made her their own, she couldn’t have gotten away if she wanted to. And in that realization, there was a level of security and safety she hadn’t expected to find.

There was neither of those things with Ryan. He loved to travel and hated Wellingford—for what she was increasingly forced to admit were legitimate reasons—so he’d never be content to put down the roots she so desperately craved. He might not be the wild child she’d originally pegged him for, but that didn’t change that he was guaranteed to leave. Just like every other person in her life had left.

“Bri.”

She blinked and looked up. “Yes?”

Though he grinned, his blue eyes were kind. “Are you going to go, or just stare at the board?”

“Just considering my best move.” And admitting there was no way to come back from this. She put an O next to an available G. “Go. Three points.”

“Nice.” He was blatantly making an effort not to laugh, but there was no meanness there.

“Shut up.” She shook her head. “Your turn.”

His smile turned apologetic as he put down the last two tiles on his board. “Pin. Five points. And whatever you have on your board since I’m out.”

She cursed aloud as she added the Z and X to his points—and again when she totaled them up. “You won by a landslide.”

“You put up a good fight.” He shrugged. “This was the only game we had in the house when I was a kid. I’m pretty sure Drew has the Scrabble dictionary memorized, because I couldn’t beat him until I was sixteen.”

It would have been nice to know that before she’d agreed to this game, but he’d won fair and square. Bri sighed. “Best two out of three?”

“Oh, we can play again. Right after you fulfill your end of the bargain.”

Crap. She’d hoped he’d just let it go. From the way he sat back and propped his heels on the coffee table, he had no intention of allowing her to weasel her way out of this. Which was only fair, no matter how much she didn’t like it. She had agreed to the terms, after all.

She smoothed her hair back. “I grew up in foster care.”

The rest of the story stuck in her throat. God, this was so much harder than she’d expected. She wanted to yell at him and storm off, or throw his own past and reputation in his face again, or do anything in order to avoid sharing these painful memories. When she looked at Ryan, he merely watched her, no expression on his face. The lack of pity was what gave her the strength to go on. “When I was six, my parents died in a car crash. Couples want to adopt babies, not little girls who wake up on a nightly basis screaming from nightmares and crying for their dead parents.”

When it looked like he was going to say something, she held up a hand. “It was a very long time ago. I grew up and got past it.” Mostly. “I bounced through three homes in as many years, and I learned the hard way to keep my head down and my mouth closed.”

“The hard way?” Something dangerous glinted in his eyes.

Oh dear. “I wasn’t abused, if that’s what you’re asking.” She wanted to leave it at that, but Bri found herself elaborating. Ryan had shared part of his past with her, so maybe he would understand the struggles she’d lived through more than Avery did. “It was more…neglect. I was in the last home for nine months and the woman who ran it was more concerned with collecting her checks than with things such as making sure we had a healthy diet and appropriate clothes.” A fact made worse by the bigger kids who took her share of both.

“Christ.”

Bri toyed with the string of her sweats, wishing they were thicker, wishing for something more to cover herself with, as if by covering her body she’d cover up the emotional vulnerability she felt. “I survived. I grew up. I got scholarships. I went to college and made something of myself. And here I am now.”

“I’d say I’m sorry but, like you said, you survived and flourished.” Before she could entirely process his words, he moved on. “What did you do for fun?”

This, at least, was an easy answer. “The library. It was my everything—my fun, my escape, my refuge. I know that sounds silly—or maybe a little pathetic—but it was the truth. What better way to escape the realities of your life than to read about someone else’s? And the local library had what felt like a million books at the time. Countless worlds to be explored and people to meet.” Belatedly, she realized he’d found much the same escape growing up, if his story earlier was anything to go by.

“All in the safety of your own place.”

She shifted, not sure if she liked how close to the mark he’d hit. In her books, she was assured some kind of happy ending. If she didn’t like the way things were going, she could simply put the book down and walk away. End of story.

Life didn’t work the same way.

“Something like that.”

He started to ask another question, but must have caught the way she tensed up, because he changed tactics. “What’s your favorite part of your job?”

This, at least, she could talk about without worrying about emotional pitfalls. “All of it.”

He laughed. “How about you narrow it down a little?”

She wasn’t sure she could. But as soon as that thought hit, Bri knew the answer. “The kids. I’ve set up several programs for young readers, and I can’t begin to express how happy it makes me. I love recommending books to kids and seeing that click when they fall in love. It’s priceless—something I never get tired of.”

“What kind of book would you have chosen for me?”

He really had a gift for putting her on the spot. “I don’t know. It’s hard to say, not knowing what kind of kid you were.” But she knew. She’d known the second they slipped from constantly arguing into something much more vulnerable.

“Come on, Bri. Just play the what-if game. What if I’d come in there and asked for a recommendation?”

“Pirates,” she blurted out.

Ryan started clearing the tiles from the board and dumping them back into the box. “Pirates?”

She took a few seconds to really think about it, but her answer remained the same. “Yes. The adventure and exploration and treasure seem like something that’d appeal to you. Not to mention taking it one step further and mapping out the sunken ships. It’d be a grand adventure.”

His slow smile made her heart skip a beat. “When we get back into town, I’d like to see those books.”

“Why?”

His grin widened. “I happen to have a thing for pirates.”

Just like that, she could picture him in mismatched clothing, with a bandana over his head and a captain’s hat. He’d look roguish and more than a few women would throw themselves at his feet. Goodness, she wanted to do so right now. Bri bit her lip and looked out the window. Change the subject. Change it right now before you go off the deep end and tell him that you’re losing the battle with yourself over everything that is Ryan.

He saved her from making an ass of herself. “Want to play again?”

Again? She wasn’t sure if she could handle another heartfelt confession like she’d just given. Bri rubbed her arms, trying to work away a chill she was pretty sure existed only in her mind. Her options lay before her, as clear as the bright blue sky outside. She could play again and, if the last game was any indication, actually enjoy herself. Or she could run back to the room and deal with the consequences of ripping open that particular emotional wound.

“Sure. Let’s go again.”

…

Bri’s words played in Ryan’s head through two more games of Scrabble. Drew had mentioned she hadn’t grown up easy, but he hadn’t gone into details. It was no wonder she didn’t let anyone in—the two people who were supposed to be there to care for her and see her grow up had died when she was just a little kid. He hadn’t had the best childhood ever, but he’d always had a safe place with Drew. Looking back, his older brother had borne the brunt of their father’s failures. Drew was the one who stepped up and made sure they were taken care of, even if he had to go without to make it happen. Bri hadn’t even had that.

“Quint.” She lay down her tiles with a grin. “With a double letter and triple word score, that’s seventy-two.”

Ryan made a face. “You whooped my ass this time around.” He counted up his tiles and shook his head. After being pretty damn close the last game, she had nearly doubled his score. “How about some dinner?”

“As long as it’s not corn bread and chili, I’m in.” She smacked a hand over her mouth. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. That was so rude.”

He laughed. “Hardly.” The fact that she apologized immediately after saying it let him know she was as aware of the change developing between them as he was.

And she didn’t want to go back to fighting, either.

He climbed to his feet and cracked his neck. “See, today wasn’t so bad.”

“No, it really wasn’t. The egg disaster aside.” She took his offered hand and let him pull her to her feet. “I almost feel bad for beating you so soundly that last time.”

He headed into the kitchen and started rummaging through the cabinets. “Probably as bad as I feel about beating you the first two times.”

“Probably.” She laughed again and went to the fridge. “How about a salad?”

“Do we have the makings for chicken Caesar?”

She bent over to pull open the produce drawer, giving him a heart-stopping view of her ass. Ryan turned away before she looked over, fighting for control of his body. Things were going so well, he didn’t want to fuck them up, and nothing made a situation quite as awkward as sporting a cock-stand in sweats.

When he could turn around without embarrassing himself, he moved over to where she had pulled precooked chicken out of the fridge. “I’ll get this if you want to chop the tomatoes.”

“You mean you’re actually going to let me touch a knife?” She gave him a strange look, but nodded. “Deal.”

Ryan opened the package, doing his damnedest to focus solely on chopping the meat into smaller pieces and not how she was so close he could reach over and run his hand down her spine. They worked in a comfortable silence, and he chopped the chicken and dumped it into the salad before he finally spoke. “I always felt like I was a day late and a dollar short as a kid.”

She filled two glasses with water and took the stool she’d occupied last night. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know.” He passed over the bowl and slid into the seat next to her. “Though if you don’t want to know, I don’t have to keep going.”

She dished a plate of salad up for herself—and then him, too—before she answered. “I’d like to know.”

Since curiosity was a step in the right direction, he gave her a small smile. “I grew up spending as much time outside my house as possible. It could have been a lot worse, but Drew made sure there was always enough food and warm clothes. I think I would have liked to know a librarian like you, because Old Mrs. Cleaver scared the crap out of me. I used to hide in the stacks until she hobbled back to the front desk before I’d go find the books I was looking for.”

She smiled. “I thought she was perfectly nice.”

He suddenly realized how this must sound. She’d shared a horror story of a childhood and here he was whining about how is brother stepped up to the plate and made sure he didn’t go without. “Drew saved my life, even if I got into a lot of trouble along the way.”

“Does he know that?” Bri took a drink of her water. “I’m sorry, that’s none of my business. But your brother doesn’t really talk about what your childhood was like. All his stories are from high school and beyond.”

“High school was full of adventure.” Even if he’d never live it down. But he didn’t have any real regrets from some of the crazy shit he and his old brother got into.

“I’d like to know more, if that’s okay.”

“So he didn’t tell you about the time I started a grease fire trying to cook stir-fry?”

Her eyebrows rose and she snorted. “No, he neglected to mention that your history with fire started before senior year.”

For once, the reminder didn’t stick in his throat. “I was lucky he’d decided to supervise. He’s quick on his feet and got the baking soda into the pan before it did any real damage.”

“That’s fortunate.” She shook her head. “I can picture it all too easily. You guys must have been little hellions.”

“We still are if you ask around.” He took a few bites, letting the silence stretch a few minutes while they both ate. “Has he taken you up to the property?”

She rotated her fork with her fingers. “No. The only reason I know about it is because Avery mentioned it once.”

“The house is gone, I think. I haven’t been up there since I graduated. But the acreage is beautiful—miles and miles of forest and fields, with a nice little stream running through it.”

“It sounds beautiful.”

He’d always thought so. It had been a wonderland for him and his brother growing up, a direct counterpoint to the hell that their house was from time to time. “When I was eight, I went out to build a fort where Drew would never find me.” He shook his head. “There was a bee’s nest in the tree I tried to use for wood.”

“Oh no.” She pressed a hand to her mouth, but her eyes were dancing. “That must have been terrible.”

“After I’d stopping screaming and Old Joe made sure I wasn’t going to die, he whooped my ass for being stupid enough not to check the tree I was hammering on before I started.”

“Old Joe whooped you, huh?”

“Well, he threatened to.” His grin died. “The paramedics weren’t as forgiving, and neither were the horde of Wellingford residents who descended on the ambulance while I was getting patched up. I got more lectures that afternoon than I did the entire year.”

She abandoned her half-empty bowl and turned to face him fully. “Tell me more.”

More? He had countless stories like that, like the time he’d tried to run away after Dad had lost his shit because Ryan quit the peewee football team halfway through the season. He’d hidden out for three days before Drew showed up in his lean-to and talked him into coming back home. But he didn’t want to mar this conversation with Bri by bringing in the crappy times. As many bad memories as he had about this town, it was strange to realize he had just as many good memories. “After Drew read The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, he decided it’d be a great idea to build a raft and float down the stream.”

She choked. “And how did that go?”

“It was badass. At first. The raft held us both and seemed like it’d really go the distance.” He paused, enjoying the way she leaned forward, already smiling. “We didn’t plan on the beaver’s dam.”

Talking about this brought back all sorts of memories, of long summers spent running around barefoot, of floating the nearby river, of hours sitting around the campfire. A thought occurred to him, taking root until he couldn’t stop himself from standing and going to the cabinet. He thought he’d seen marshmallows in here, and he was right.

“What are you doing?”

He turned around, holding the marshmallows, Hershey bars, and graham crackers. “We’re going to make s’mores.” He couldn’t change her past, or go back in time to help her when she’d needed someone, but he could damn well give her some good new memories to go with the bad ones. “That is, if you’re willing to risk letting me near the fireplace.”

She smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m not taking my eyes off you.”

…

Bri watched him stoke the fire, touched in ways she hadn’t expected. He’d shared some of his memories with her, bits and pieces of a childhood that was shockingly close to hers in some ways. There were times when she’d wished she had a sister or brother to hold her hand through all of it like Ryan had so she wouldn’t have been so terribly alone. It had taken some time, but she’d finally been able to acknowledge that she wouldn’t be the woman she was today if things had been different.

If she hadn’t suffered through the foster homes and the deaths of her parents, there would be so many kids whose lives she wouldn’t have been able to touch. She loved her place in the library. It was worth everything that had come before.

That being said, she couldn’t stop the warmth flowing through her as Ryan set out the makings for s’mores. This was a gift. Something so sweet and thoughtful, she wasn’t quite sure how to thank him.

“Normally, we’d go pick our own roasting sticks and carve a sharp side to put the marshmallow on, but we’ll have to improvise.” He held up the two wire hangers he’d straightened. “So try not to judge the system too harshly on our crappy roasting tools.”

She smiled as she accepted the hanger and pushed the marshmallow onto its tip. “I’ll do my best.”

“I appreciate that.” He patted the rug next to him. “Now come closer. I promise I won’t bite.”

But what if I want you to?

She hadn’t missed the fact that he’d kept a careful distance between them all day, though she didn’t know if it was because he didn’t want to touch her or if he didn’t trust himself to. Considering their short but eventful history, she was betting on the latter. She wasn’t sure how she felt about his demonstrating so much restraint regarding sex, not when he was showing her so many other things, too. She wished she could blame her growing fondness on hormones, but when he took the sex out of the equation, what else was there?

Then again, it wasn’t like this had been weeks in the making. They had sex less than twenty-four hours ago. But they’d also spent the last six hours talking. Or not talking in some cases. Either way, they hadn’t dissolved into fights, petty or otherwise, since the spat this morning.

She sank into the spot he’d indicated next to the bear’s head. Bri grimaced. “This thing is tacky.”

“Only the best for hunting cabins.”

He pulled the bear’s head up and groaned. She followed his gaze and reached into its mouth to pull out a string of condoms. “It’s like some kind of demented Easter egg hunt.”

“Someday, somewhere, we will get revenge on those two for this.” He plucked the packets out of her hands and tossed them onto the couch.

She shifted and stared at the fire so as not to give in to the temptation to stare at him.

“Lots of people just stick their marshmallow into the flame and burn the shit out of it. Common rookie mistake. What you want to do for maximum crispy gooey goodness is roast it over the coals.” He demonstrated, holding his two inches off the coals he’d exposed on the right side of the fire. As she watched, the marshmallow turned a golden brown, helped along by rotating the hanger. “Like this.”

“Okay.” She followed his lead, a thrill of childlike excitement taking root as her marshmallow turned the same color as his. “I’m doing it.”

“You sure as hell are. I knew I had a professional s’mores creator on my hands the moment we met.”

Bri laughed. “Now you’re just being goofy.”

“This is the source of some of my favorite childhood memories. Makes me feel like a kid again.” He pulled his marshmallow out of the fire. “Okay, now you create your s’mores sandwich.”

She copied him, putting the chocolate on the graham cracker and then using the other half of the cracker to smoosh the marshmallow into place. A giggle slipped free as she held up sticky fingers. “Messy work.”

“All good things in life start or end with messes.” He motioned. “Take a bite.”

She did, and moaned. “Oh my God, this is amazing.” She took another bite, her eyes drifting closed as bliss spread through her. By the time she finished off the s’more, she was fighting to hold back a variety of sounds that could only be described as sexual. She opened her eyes to find Ryan watching her through hooded eyes. Even though she’d only seen that look a few times, her body responded to it, nipples pebbling and heat flaring through her. She cleared her throat. “Thank you. For all of this. For creating this memory with me.”

His slow grin made her stomach flip. “Trust me, honey, it was my pleasure.”

Before she could talk herself out of it, Bri leaned across the distance between them and kissed him.