Roughing It With Ryan

11

RYAN FOUND HIMSELF inundated with jobs, which coincided with his midterms. Which coincided with his inability to think of anything and anyone but Suzanne.

It wasn’t good. He needed concentration. His latest job required him to take down a series of ten palm trees, each a towering seventy-five feet. Big job. Important job. It had been waiting for him for weeks.

So why he drove the wrong truck, with the wrong ladder system and lost two hours of work was beyond him.

The next day he ran out of gas halfway to the job and had to call Russ for a ride, losing another hour of work.

On the third day he didn’t remember to pick up Angel from school when she’d called and asked. He’d forgotten his own damn sister.

On the fourth day he miraculously made it to his jobsite without interruption, and felt quite proud of that fact.

But then was immediately surrounded by his two brothers and sister, all of whom were looking at him so gravely his heart stopped. “What’s the matter?” He pictured a serious illness, a death, something mind-bendingly awful enough to put that doom-and-gloom look on their faces.

“You,” Angel said gently, then shoved him into one of the folding beach chairs they kept on the job for lunch break. “You’re the matter. Ryan Alondo…” She waved a hand. “Welcome to your intervention.”

“My what?”

“You heard me. Just sit there and listen.”

“Yeah.” Rafe took off his sunglasses, appearing haggard and worried, and took a deep breath. “Okay, here it goes. First, you’re forgetful. You’ve never been forgetful before, Ryan.”

“It’s like you’ve gone blond or something,” Russ said, shutting his mouth when Angel glared at him.

“So, you tell us.” She stood over Ryan with her hands on her hips. “What’s the matter? Are you sick?”

“No. No!” he added more vehemently when he saw how worried they really were. “I’m not.”

“Are we having money trouble?” Russ asked, because it was Ryan that handled the bulk of their pay, investing it for them.

“Yeah, like, did you take up gambling, and lose everything, and don’t know how to tell us?” Rafe asked. “Because if you did, that’s okay. We can make more. We just want to know.”

Ryan would have laughed if there was anything funny about the fact that he’d really freaked them out. They were staring at him as he had stared at them over the years-an expression of sober grimness mixed with a lot of love.

The irony was not lost on him. “I didn’t lose all our money.”

“Is the business going under?” Angel asked. “Because that doesn’t matter either, you know that, right? We’ll find something else, we’ll work at Taco Bell, we’ll-”

“The business is good,” Ryan said, his voice a little thick because damn, they’d given him a sucker punch to the gut with this reminder of how much he wasn’t alone. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been a little out of it lately, but-”

“A little?” Rafe shook his head. “I told you I didn’t get home until three in the morning, and what did you say? Nothing.”

“You got home at three in the morning?” Ryan frowned. “Where the hell were you until then?”

“See? You never even heard me.”

“I’m hearing you now. Where were you-”

“Look, kick his ass later, okay?” Angel knelt in front of Ryan and took his hands. “Tell us what’s wrong.”

Ryan stared at the three people in the world who meant everything to him, and spoke the utter truth, the truth he’d only just been able to admit. “I’ve…fallen for a woman.”

They all stared at him for a heartbeat, then burst into laughter.

“That’s a good one,” Angel said, swiping a tear of mirth off her cheek. “You’ve fallen for a woman. A woman. Uh-huh, right.”

“As if one would ever be enough.” Rafe was still grinning, too. “When we all know you need a minimum of three a week.”

“See, now that’s not exactly true.” But it had been his own deception that made them believe it. “I’m not dating women every night. I’m…going to college. I’m almost finished my landscape architect degree.”

Russ narrowed his eyes. “But you are dating. You dated Allene just last week.”

“I did go out with Allene, but only because Rafe set it up and I didn’t pay attention enough to say no. I’m not kidding you, I’m taking classes three nights a week and between that and work and Suzanne, it’s killing me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I…just wanted to do this for me.”

Angel stared at him, then wound her arms around his neck. “Oh, Ryan. College! We’re college buddies! I feel so proud of you!”

“Landscape architecture?” Rafe repeated slowly, then grinned. “How cool is that?”

“But what about the business?” Russ asked.

“The tree business will be here as long as you guys want it.”

“So…” Rafe scratched his head. “You’ve been doing all of it? Just for us? Bro, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did.”

“I don’t want to make this a chick-flick or anything,” Rafe said a little thickly. “But that’s pretty damn cool of you.”

“Landscape architecture,” Rafe said slowly. “Yeah.

Sounds cool. But…you’re not dating the entire female population? Really?”

“Really.” Ryan gave Angel, still in his arms, a squeeze. “Sorry.”

She pulled free to narrow her gaze on him. “So who’s Suzanne?”

“The one.” He swallowed and faced the cold, hard truth. “She’s the one.”

“She’s- Oh my God.” She put a hand to her mouth while her gaze never left his. “You’re serious.”

“I’m serious.”

Russ groaned and sank theatrically into a chair. “He’s fallen and can’t get up.”

“So what are you going to do about her?” Angel wanted to know.

“Well…I’m going to convince her she feels the same way.”

“Why do you have to convince her?” his sister demanded. “Why doesn’t she already love you? What’s the matter with her?”

“Nothing.” Ryan grinned. “She just isn’t quite as sure of me as you are.”

SUZANNE FOUND a part-time chef position at a restaurant across town. After being her own boss for weeks, she had to admit…working for someone else wasn’t as much fun as she remembered.

South Village was fun to live in, and fun to cook in, but this restaurant was upscale. Which meant she was cooking for people who knew what they wanted and weren’t afraid to say so. Very quickly she got tired of the same menu every night, and not being able to deviate for fear of insulting a patron.

One morning about a week after what she thought of as “the ice cream” incident with Ryan, she tripped over a package outside her door. Frowning, she picked up the plainly wrapped, odd-shaped box with the pretty silver bow. It was nearly two feet long, several inches wide, and gave off no other clue as to what it was.

She glanced left and right down the hallway of the second floor landing, but there was no one there, so she pulled off the ribbon, then the paper.

And found herself holding a set of beautiful teak-wood cooking utensils.

A card fell out, and she scooped it up, her heart accelerating at the words.

Suzanne,

For your catering. I know, I know, it’s just a hobby. But maybe you’ll think of me when you use them, as I’m thinking of you.

Ryan.

Ryan, the man who’d made her smile and yearn and burn. Ryan, the man who haunted her dreams every night.

Ryan, the man who could single-handedly destroy her in a way no one else ever could.

The gift wasn’t some empty-handed gesture, as flowers might have been. The utensils had been bought with her in mind, which meant the gift came from his heart.

That alone made her throat tight, because she couldn’t remember ever receiving a gift like this before.

Lord, she must be tired. She hadn’t slept well in days. Ryan’s fault, as she’d been dreaming about him. If she wasn’t dreaming about him, she was thinking about him.

Again, his fault. He’d called, he’d stopped by, and much as she wanted to remain indifferent, she couldn’t. Not when every time they easily talked, easily laughed…and easily could have taken it further.

She’d say it was all physical, but that was a lie. It was far more than physical now, and she knew it.

Which made it no less terrifying. She’d failed in her determination to keep him out of her heart. Utterly failed.

That evening when she got home, there was yet another package. Small this time, with another silver bow.

She opened the thing like a kid at Christmas, then right there in the hallway had to sit down.

It was a pewter pin in the shape of a chef’s hat, lying on velvet. Etched on the hat was her name. The detailing was beautiful, the pin was beautiful.

And so was the gesture.

This time her fingers shook when she opened the card, and just seeing his words-the ones he’d written in his own hand-made his voice come alive in her head. Her body reacted as if he’d touched her.

Suzanne,

I’m so proud of you. Be proud, too.

Ryan.

That night, wearing the pin on her pajamas and holding the teak utensils in her hand, she sat on her bed and picked up the phone. Dialed. Listened to Ryan say hello in that low, sexy voice. And panicked.

Why had she called?

To tell him to stop buying her presents, that’s why.

To tell him to stop making her think of him. To tell him this had to stop because she was losing her mind.

“Hello?” Ryan said again.

She bit her lip. Tell him. Tell him!

“Suzanne?”

Oh God.

His voice deepened, became intimately familiar.

“Suzanne, is that you?”

She closed her eyes. “How did you know?”

“I’d recognize your panicked breathing any where.”

Terrific.

“I’m glad you called,” he said quietly. “I’ve been thinking of you.”

“I…have to go.”

“Suzanne-”

“Bye,” she whispered in a choked voice and hung up.

It wasn’t possible to be more pathetic, really it wasn’t. And then, as if he could still hear her, or worse, see her, she lay down and put her pillow over her head.