Tell Me You Love Me Page 5

  “What? No spoiled rich kids to protect tonight?” Owen asks.

  “Plenty, I’m sure. But after the shit that broke out last week with a bunch of dumbass B-Rad rappers from the Bu, I took two weeks off. They don’t pay me enough money to deal with these jokers.”

  Laughter rises from my stomach as I think of Jamie Kennedy in Malibu’s Most Wanted. I can just imagine Justin trying not to beat the shit out of the wannabe gangsters while he’s breaking up their fights.

  We grab a booth in the corner by the pool tables and wait for Owen and Jesse to grab the drinks.

  Owen sets a pitcher and frozen mugs on the table while Jesse places four shot glasses down.

  Justin nods in the younger one’s direction. “Told you his ass was trigger happy. He did well the first game, but then he’s like a little puppy that gets too excited and can’t control himself. He has to piss all over everything as he’s jumping up and down.”

  “Are you calling me a puppy?” Jesse asks. He grunts, holds up his arms to flex his guns, and says, “I’m more like a pitbull.” The silly guy can’t even fool himself. He starts cracking up as he slides into the booth next to me.

  “Whatever,” Owen says, holding up the shot glass. “What are we toasting to?”

  A jingle at the door has us all looking in its direction. Jesse gestures at the newcomers, “To hot chicks loving firefighters.”

  There’s no doubt we’re going to raise our glasses to that. After all, it’s a definite perk to our job. I glance at the four women who take a seat at the bar. Each one has a very pretty face. Long hair, some curled, some straight. Two with dark brown hair, two blondes. All with long legs, very slim frames, and nice racks. Only one has an ass I could dig my hands into.

  We tip our drinks back in sync. The slow burn of the tequila makes its way from my throat to the pit of my stomach, warming everything along the way. I chase it with a mug of beer. Much better. Shots are okay, but I’d rather enjoy a cold brew.

  “Pool, anyone?” Jesse asks, getting to his feet. “I’m going to ask those fine ladies if they want to join us.”

  Before I can stop myself, I tell him, “I’m out.” Visions of my new friend flurry around in my head and the thought of hooking up with one of these chicks doesn’t do it for me.

  “I don’t feel like playing either,” Justin says.

  “Suit yourselves,” Owen says, following Jesse. With a sly grin, he says, “We’re more than enough for the four of them.”

  “Go get ’em, Boss,” Justin jokes, holding up his own mug of beer.

  It doesn’t take long for Jesse and Owen to wrangle two of the girls into playing pool with them. Their friends stay at the bar and I feel a bit bad for not joining them. Too bad the rest of the guys didn’t come along, they could have kept the other females company. It would be easy to walk over there and start up a conversation, but I would feel worse leading them on. As pretty as they are, I’m just not interested. Not when I have someone else so firmly planted in my mind.

  So much for releasing some energy to clear my head. It just comes back to Lizzy whether I like it or not. And I haven’t decided if I do. Like it. Or not.

  “Not interested in a little female company yet?” Justin asks, drawing me out of my thoughts.

  I look him in the eye. “Not really.”

  “Too soon?”

  Too soon? He can’t be talking about my ex. “No. Not too soon. I’m over that. I’m just not interested.”

  “In them,” he gestures in the direction of the ladies, “or in anyone?” His eyebrows dart up and down. Really? He just did that.

  “What the hell’s up with the twenty questions?”

  He smiles, slowly shaking his head from side to side. “Nothing, man. Nothing at all. Just making conversation.”

  “What about you? Not interested in them? Or in anyone?”

  His expression goes flat, his body stills. Something’s up. “Too early to tell.”

  I know what that means and I let it go. I suppose I could have answered with the same thing. Too early to tell—which is code for something is going on and I’m not talking about it yet. Chugging the rest of my beer, I decide to keep my mouth shut. I don’t want to ask any questions I wouldn’t want to answer myself. So this silence between my old friend and me is perfect. Just perfect.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lizzy

  Jace came home in rare form this afternoon. Something happened at work and I know better than to ask questions. The last time I did, he bit my head off. He rambled on and on muttering obscenities about what the hell could I possibly know since I just sit on my ass all day eating Oreos and watching Access Hollywood.

  Fucker.

  But, God, I love me some Billy Bush.

  Instead of playing into his pity party, I decide to head out to my own personal playground—the local Target. I can spend my evening sifting through the dollar bins, searching for a new lip color, or browsing the book aisles looking for new reads. I love it when I find a new author that Molly hasn’t discovered yet. I think it’s been a silent challenge, for me, Rachel, and Rose to uncover new gems first. Unfortunately, it doesn’t happen often.

  “Where are you going?” he barks, as I’m just about to close the door behind me.

  “Going to the store.” I don’t know what makes me cower to him, but I find myself needing to explain further. “We need laundry detergent.”

  He sneers at me like I’ve done something wrong. “I don’t know why. It’s not like you wash clothes every day.”

  Lowering my head, I turn to leave, mumbling, “Whatever, Jace.”

  The whole way to the store, I replay the scenario with my husband over and over again. Each time, I came back at him with something other than a whatever. Something as simple as excuse me. Or fuck you. Maybe wash your own damn clothes, mother fucker. But of course, I’d never say any of those things to him. Instead, I get out of my car and walk into the store in search of Oreos. Tomorrow, I’m going to sit on my ass all day, watching Billy, Maury, and Whoopi while I wash his whites on the hot cycle—and I may as well throw in a red T-shirt for good measure.

  He’d probably look good in pink.

  Dick.

  * * *

  A half hour later, I’m scent testing body washes when a familiar voice startles me.

  “Do you always stand in the aisles at Target moaning like you just...” he raises a brow, “you know?”

  Arching a brow right back at him, I respond. “No...I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

  A sexy grin plays across Ryan’s lips and, instantly, the scowl I’m sure I was wearing on my way into the store is gone, and replaced by a giddy school-girl glow.

  A low grunt escapes from Ryan as he shakes his head. “God, help me,” he mumbles, looking up and shaking his head. The whole scene has me cracking up and he laughs right along with me. “So is that what has you smelling like fresh fruit and sweet flowers?”

  “Fresh fruit, huh?” So, he’s smelled me. That makes me smile inside. “No, just love shopping for girlie things that smell good.”

  Ryan takes the cocoa butter scented body wash from my hand, flips open the cap, and brings it to his nose. He takes a quick whiff, then leans in closer to me and inhales again, slowly. Lingering. Leaving me breathless. Fuck me, if I don’t want to lean in even closer to him. God, I have never felt this hot before. Sparks zip up and down my back to my neck as I feel his breath on me. Hot. So freaking hot.

  “Stick with the one you have. I like it,” he says, backing away.

  “Thanks,” I tell him, although I’m not sure the words are audible. I still haven’t recovered from his close proximity. It’s been too long since I last saw him. So long I can’t remember when that was. Oh hell, it’s been fifteen days. If I had to, I could probably narrow down the hours too, so shoot me.

  “I gotta run, Lizzy.” He offers me another grin. “I’ll see you later. Maybe on the hill?”

  “Maybe,” I respond, placing the cocoa
body wash back on the shelf and pushing my cookie filled cart past him. Suddenly, I turn back. I don’t know what comes over me, but I pull a familiar bottle off the shelf and place it in Ryan’s basket. “Fresh fruit and sweet flowers. Enjoy.”

  * * *

  As I’m leaving the store, I have a smile plastered to my face. Feeling so different from the way I felt when I got out of my car, I don’t want to go back home to Jace where he’s sure to be a Debbie Downer to my happy mood. When I get to my car, I don’t have to worry about my happiness subsiding too soon. Ryan is parked right next to me.

  “So we meet again?” he says.

  “It appears so,” I tell him. “Are you stalking me?”

  “You wish.” His joke gets a low chuckle from me. “Hey, let me help you with those.” He closes the door to his truck and walks toward me.

  While I get my trunk open, he starts gathering bags in his hands. Together, we place the plastic bags full of junk in my car and I quickly thank him.

  “Do you like Starbucks, Lizzy?” he asks.

  “That’s like asking a woman if she likes to shop.”

  This time, I have him laughing. “Come have a cup of coffee with me. Or hot chocolate if it’s too late. I’m not ready to go home yet.” He looks at his watch, and I glance at the time on my phone. It’s after eight.

  “Okay, but I don’t drink coffee.”

  “Perfect. Neither do I.”

  * * *

  Ryan orders each of us an iced black tea, sweetened with one pump. I’m amazed he knows the Starbucks lingo, but he just waves me off like it’s nothing when I tease him about it.

  “Will the tea keep you up all night?” he asks when he sets my venti-sized drink in front of me. I offered to pay, but he declined with a look that said how dare I even mention it.

  “Not at all,” I say. “Plus, I’m a night owl. I usually stay up reading.”

  “Me, too. I couldn’t go to sleep early if I tried.”

  “I bet your work schedule really messes up your sleep pattern. I can’t imagine working for forty-eight hours straight.”

  After taking a long sip of his drink, he starts talking again. “It’s not bad. You get used to it. And it’s only two days out of the week.”

  “True.”

  The conversation flows freely between us as we talk about our childhood and families. He shares that his mother raised him after his dad walked out on them when he was six and his younger sister was two. I discover that Ryan and I are only two years apart.

  When it’s my turn to spill my guts, I’m surprised that opening up to Ryan comes so easily. “Well, I’m adopted. I’m an only child. My parents were in their fifties when they adopted me. They were my foster parents and took me in as a baby. I had a lot of health problems as an infant and I wasn’t exactly prime adoption material, but they wanted me. At least, my daddy did. My mom and I never really got along as I grew up.” I pause, wondering if I should keep going. Ryan has to be bored already.

  “Why not?” he asks, urging me to continue.

  “I tried to figure that out for a long time. I just think that maybe she didn’t want me to begin with. My dad always had a way of making me feel like I was truly his daughter; he always made me feel loved. But not her. I always felt like I was a burden to her. Maybe she didn’t like that I took away the time she could’ve been spending with my dad on her own.”

  Ryan reaches out to me and squeezes my hand. “How about now? Do you get along?”

  Allowing myself a split second to enjoy the comfort, I peel my hand away and grab my tea for a drink. “No, we don’t. My daddy died my junior year in high school. From that point, I was pretty much on my own. If I wasn’t at school, I was working part-time at the mall. Thankfully, I was a freaking awesome student, so I got a full ride to college. I got the hell out of the house and never went back. Since then, we haven’t talked much. Without my dad, we don’t have anything to bring us together.”

  “That’s sad, Lizzy. I’m sorry and I’m sorry for the loss of your father.” And he really looks like he is. The sincerity in his eyes is endearing. Once, I asked Jace to go to the cemetery with me, to put flowers on my dad’s grave. He couldn’t be bothered. He had meetings and the anniversary of my dad’s death apparently came at an inopportune time.

  “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” More than he could ever know. Not wanting to dwell on my family life any longer, I decide to ask him about work. “So what brings you to town, Ryan?”

  “My mom, actually.” He grimaces and then flashes me a sympathetic smile.

  “It’s okay, really,” I say. “Don’t worry about tiptoeing around me. Tell me about your mom. I can see it in your eyes that she means a lot to you.”

  “She does. That’s why I came home.”

  “From where?”

  He leans forward with his elbows on the small circular table. “Utah. I worked with a hotshot crew based there.”

  Hotshot, huh. Yes, that suits Ryan completely. Hotshot should be his middle name. Maybe his first name. No, his first name should be Sexy Ass. Sexy Ass Hotshot. It’s certainly what I’d like to call him. Speaking of hot...is it extra warm in here now?

  I try to hold back the smile forming on my lips. “Hotshot? What’s that?” I bet it’s not exactly the same thing that comes to my mind.

  “Hotshots are a specialized firefighting crew. We generally don’t get called in unless the shit hits the fan and the fire’s terrain is really dirty. It’s our job to build a fire line, basically cutting off the fire of its fuel source.”

  “Sounds crazy,” I tell him. And scary.

  “It can be. Sometimes we’re out in the field for two weeks at a time, eating military-style rations, living out of a buggy or sleeping on the ground. It takes a lot of training and commitment, but I love it.”

  His smile reaches all the way to his eyes when he talks about his job. It’s just one more thing I like about him. “So I bet you have to be in really good shape. No wonder the trail is easy-peasy for you.”

  There goes that smile again, this time with a slight chuckle. “You got me.”

  “I bet you go home and lift weights, too,” I tease, rolling my eyes and shaking my head.

  “You got me again.” He winks, taking a sip of his drink. “I’d like to say I take care of my body to stay healthy, but I really do it to support my potato chip addiction.”

  This makes me laugh aloud. “I can’t imagine you eating anything unhealthy.”

  “I’m guilty. Believe me. Put a bag of Doritos in front of me and the whole thing will be gone in a matter of seconds. In high school, I had the metabolism of a crack addict. As I get older, not so much. So if I want to keep eating like a snotty, zit-faced teenager and keep my job, I have no choice but to hit that damn hill and the weights.”

  No wonder this man looks like he doesn’t have an ounce of fat on his body. He’s a lean, mean, firefighting machine. I kick that thought from my mind and try to change the subject before I continue to ponder this well made piece of machinery. “You were saying that you came home for your mom?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. I loved working with the crew, but it takes a lot out of you. And it’s very time consuming. You’re basically gone and cut off from the world for half a year, sometimes longer depending on the extent of the fire season. You have to be ready to go at a moment’s notice. As my mom gets older, I just want to be closer to home, you know? I don’t want to be in the middle of the forest somewhere when she needs me and I can’t be reached.”

  “Makes sense.” What I really want to say is what a wonderful man I think he is for putting his career on hold to be there for his mother. How perfect is this man sitting across from me? “So how’s it going here? Are you glad you came home?”

  He raises a brow at me and flashes me that panty-dropping grin. “Definitely. More and more, every day.”

  Cue the dreamy sighs.

  Oh sweet baby Jesus. Did it just get a little hotter in here? He really shouldn’t smi
le at me like that. I’m liking it way too much.

  * * *

  “You were out late last night,” Jace says, when I sit up in bed and flash him a look of annoyance. He wakes me with the banging of bathroom cupboard doors and slamming of drawers. I finally had enough after he swung the closet doors open and shut for the fifteenth time.

  “If ten o’clock is late, then sue me.” It’s five in the morning and I’m not in the mood for his shit. I stayed up late watching old episodes of Rookie Blue, allowing me to fall asleep to indecent thoughts of Peter Mooney and Ben Bass. Oh, Officer McNally has one tough decision to make, I think to myself as I fall back against my bed and pull the covers up under my chin.

  “It took you that long to go to the store?” Jace questions, leaving me stunned.

  Like he cares. If he was worried about me, he would have called me last night or at the very least texted when I didn’t come home right away. He steps into my view with a sneer spread across his face.

  “Well?” he says.

  “I was craving Starbucks, so I sat on the patio and read while I had some tea.” The man has me feeling guilty, like I’ve betrayed him by spending time with Ryan and lying to him about it. The image of the reverse plays out in front of me like I’m watching it on a movie screen—Jace having a drink with another woman. Surprisingly, it doesn’t hurt one bit.

  “What are you doing today?” Before I can answer, he starts talking again. “I need a button fixed on a pair of pants, so you need to take it to the tailor.”

  “I can fix a button, Jace.” Does he think I’m that useless?

  “No, you can’t. I don’t like the way you sew. My clothes never fit the same.” The tone in his voice hardens.

  “It’s just a button.”

  “I don’t want you to do it, okay? Take it somewhere.”

  “Fine, I’ll take your damn pants on my way to the library.” Rolling my eyes, I have to inhale a long breath to calm my emotions.

  He turns in his expensive designer dress shoes to leave, but stops short in the doorway. “That’s such a waste of time. I don’t know why the hell you volunteer in the first place.”