Only Love (One and Only #3) Read online

  She crossed her arms even tighter, and looked out at the street again, away from me. “What are you doing here, Ryan?”

  I forced myself to say the words. “I’d like to take you out for dinner.”

  She looked at me like she might have heard wrong. “Dinner?”

  “Yes. Dinner. Maybe at Cloverleigh, if you’re up for it.”

  “But last night you said you don’t date.”

  “It’s true. I don’t.”

  “So this would be what?”

  I thought for a second. What would a normal person call it, if not a date? “Dinner with a friend?”

  “Are we friends?”

  “I’d like us to be.”

  She inhaled and exhaled slowly, appearing to think it over. “Okay.”

  “Okay, you’ll have dinner with me tonight?”

  “Yes. I’m not leaving until tomorrow. I was just loading some things in my trunk that Grams wanted to give me.”

  “You think she’ll be okay if I take you to dinner?”

  That made her laugh. “Uh, yeah. I think she’ll be very happy, actually.”

  “Good. Seven o’clock work for you? That gives me time to go home and clean up.”

  “Seven is fine.”

  The plan was made, and there wasn’t really a reason to keep sitting there, but I didn’t want to get up yet. There was something nice about sitting next to her on that swing, about the way I could smell her hair, about her bare toes. What would happen if I put my arm around her? Would she move a little closer? Put her head on my shoulder? Her hand on my thigh?

  After a moment, Stella pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “Can I ask you something, Ryan?”

  “Okay,” I said, a little uneasy at the idea of answering questions.

  She tipped her head, resting her temple on one knee. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I was just wondering what made you change your mind.”

  I decided to be honest. “I saw you packing up your car and realized I didn’t want you to go.”

  “Last night you didn’t seem to care when I left.”

  “Uh, yeah, that.” I rubbed the back of my neck, which felt gritty. “Sorry. I was kind of a dick.”

  “Kind of.”

  “I guess that’s just my way of dealing with a situation or a feeling I don’t like. I sort of … turn everything off. Shut down.”

  “Is it easy for you?”

  “Yeah. It is.”

  She thought about that for a moment, then she picked up her head and set her chin on her knees, looking straight ahead.

  Tense, I waited for her to say something more, or feed me some therapist bullshit about how I shouldn’t repress my feelings and maybe if I talked more openly about my issues, I wouldn’t be so moody, but she never said another word. Maybe she remembered how I’d jumped down her throat the last time she asked about my past. I still felt bad about that.

  But that didn’t mean I wanted to talk about it.

  Eventually I stood up and grabbed the can of WD-40. “I should get going. I’ll see you at seven?”

  She smiled at me. “I’ll be ready.”

  There, I did it, I thought as I walked back to my house. Something normal. I’d asked a friend to dinner.

  And Stella would forgive me, wouldn’t she? Maybe she would even come back to my house for dessert. I still had some apple pie left, and suddenly I could think of nothing better than licking the filling off her naked body.

  Oh, shit.

  I stopped on my back porch to adjust myself in my pants.

  I’d probably be doing that all night.

  Eighteen

  Stella

  As I’d suspected, Grams was thrilled about Ryan’s dinner invitation. Immediately she started in about what I should wear and how I should do my hair, and what shoes would be right for the evening, but I assured her I could get ready on my own.

  I did put in a quick call to Emme, though.

  “He asked me out to dinner,” I told her breathlessly, standing in front of the closet in my bra and underwear.

  She gasped. “He did? When?”

  “This afternoon. He came over and basically said ‘sorry I was a dick last night’ and asked me to have dinner with him.”

  “Did he say why he’d been a dick last night?”

  “Not really. He sort of said that’s just what he does when he’s in a situation he doesn’t like.”

  “That’s kinda shitty.”

  “It’s a defense mechanism.” I looked through the few tops I’d brought, disliking them all and wishing I’d packed something more flirty and sexy. That I owned something more flirty and sexy. “He’s actually not a dick at all, but I think he sometimes acts like one to avoid something he doesn’t want to feel. It’s like a mask he wears.”

  “Oh, Jesus. Please don’t say that to him. At least not if you want to get lucky.”

  “I’m not going to say that to him,” I said, rolling my eyes. “But I can’t help being curious about what makes him that way. His military service? His divorce? His childhood?”

  “Just remember this is a date, not a session. Don’t ask him a bunch of questions that are going to kill the chemistry, okay?”

  “Actually, it’s not a date. He was specific about that.”

  “So what is it?”

  “Dinner with a friend.”

  Silence. “You know, I thought I had pretty bad luck in the romance department, but you might be edging me out with this one.”

  “Just help me decide what to wear, okay?” I was getting impatient. I only had another twenty minutes before he’d be here.

  “What are the options?”

  I ran down the list of things I’d packed.

  “Hm. That’s it?”

  “Yes, Grams. Sorry I forgot to pack my corset and hoop skirt, but I didn’t anticipate meeting a guy up here.”

  Emme sighed. “Okay, okay. Go with the white blouse, but leave a few buttons undone for once. Got any necklaces?”

  “Two gold ones.”

  “Wear them both and put your hair up in a loose bun. Shoes?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Nikes, loafers, or pink flats.”

  “Flats. What’s the underwear situation, by the way?”

  “Uh, it’s pretty basic.”

  An even heavier sigh. “Next time you travel, I am packing your bag for you. And remind me to take you shopping.”

  “Deal. I better go.”

  “Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “Which is what, exactly?” I couldn’t resist.

  “Ha ha. Call me tomorrow. Mwah.”

  We hung up, and I finished getting ready with a huge smile on my face. Maybe it wasn’t a “date,” maybe it wouldn’t lead anywhere, maybe after tonight I’d never see Ryan Woods again, but for the rest of the evening, I was his.

  It was good enough.

  A few minutes before seven, I heard a knock on the front door. I gave my reflection one last look in the mirror over the bathroom sink, stuck a couple more pins in my loose bun and wiped off most of my lipstick. Better.

  Shoving my feet into my flats, I grabbed my phone and bag from my room, and started down the stairs.

  When I saw him standing just inside the door talking to Grams, my heart stopped and I nearly missed a step. He looked gorgeous. Hair groomed. A closer shave. Dark jeans, brown leather dress boots and belt, light blue button-down beautifully ironed and fitted. Perfection.

  I reached for the banister and caught myself before tumbling to the bottom of the staircase. He looked up, and when our eyes met, my whole body tingled—something that had never happened with Walter. Ever. I liked it.

  “Hey,” I said, smiling at him. “You look nice.”

  “You too.”

  I turned to Grams, whose hands were clasped beneath her chin as her eyes went back and forth between us. She looked absolutely delighted. “You kids have fun,” she said, “and don’t worry about when
you get back. I’ll leave the front door unlocked, Stella.”

  “Okay, Grams. Thanks.”

  “I’m just so tickled this worked out.” She beamed at us. “Enjoy yourselves!”

  We said goodbye and went out on the porch, where Ryan put a hand on my lower back as we descended the steps. “So we have two options. We can take my truck, or we can take the bike. Which do you prefer?”

  “I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle,” I admitted, the Nervous Nellie in me acting up.

  “No?”

  I shook my head. “I wanted to try a Vespa when I was in Italy once but I was too scared. Is it … safe?”

  “Yes, I have an extra helmet and I promise I’m a careful driver, but if you’d rather take the truck, that’s fine too.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I’ll always choose the bike,” he said.

  I decided to be brave. “Let’s do it.”

  “You might want a jacket. Do you have one?”

  “I have a blazer I could grab.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, that’s not what I meant. You know what? I have an extra. It’s going to be big, but it’ll be better than nothing.”

  “Okay.” The teenager in me loved the idea of wearing his jacket.

  He ran inside the house to grab it and came out a moment later. As expected, it was big on me, but wasn’t that part of the kick of wearing something that belonged to a guy you liked?

  He brought the bike out of the garage, then went back in for the helmets. When he handed one to me, I realized I’d have to take my messy bun down. I pulled out all the pins, stuck them in my purse, and shook out my hair.

  That’s when I noticed Ryan was staring at me, transfixed.

  “What?” I asked.

  “That was sexy as fuck, the way you just did that.”

  I smiled, feeling sexy as fuck, for once. “Thanks.”

  Five minutes later, we were cruising down the street, my arms wrapped around him, the wind in my face. I can’t say I wasn’t a little apprehensive at being so unprotected on the road, but there was very little traffic, and soon I began to relax. He felt solid and strong inside my embrace, and I pressed close to him. I trusted he would keep me safe.

  When we reached the inn, he pulled past the main house and restaurant and drove around the back of one of the outbuildings, a big red barn with a sign over double doors that said CELEBRATION.

  He parked on a large brick-paved patio beneath a wooden pergola twined with ivy, and held the bike steady so I could get off. It was dark at this time of night, but I could tell how beautiful the spot would be for an intimate wedding dinner or ceremony, with a view of the vineyard and rolling hills beyond. The back side of the barn had been fitted with huge, multi-paned windows facing west, perfect for viewing the sunset.

  “This is so pretty,” I said, removing the helmet. “Is this for weddings?”

  “Mostly.”

  “Emme should see this. She’s a wedding planner, although most of her events are in or around Detroit.”

  “Want to look inside?”

  “Sure.”

  He had a key that unlocked the double mullion doors between the windows. He opened one for me, and I stepped into a cavernous, shadowy space.

  “Just a second, I’ll turn on some lights.” He disappeared, and a moment later, several strands of party lights illuminated one end of the barn, where there was a wooden bar near what might have been a band platform. A second after that, a huge chandelier hanging from a rafter at the center of the building lit up a rectangular dance floor. I could see round tables lining the sides of the space, and one long, rectangular table at the dim far end.

  I gasped. “Oh, it’s so beautiful! I can’t imagine how pretty it looks all lit up, with flowers and candles and linens. Emme would be swooning.”

  “It does look nice.”

  “Do you work at weddings here?”

  He shook his head. “Just set up and tear-down.”

  “Still an important job. I know how hard my sister works behind the scenes to make sure everything looks effortless.”

  He nodded and took my hand. “Stay with me. I need to turn the lights off and I don’t want you to trip. We’ll go out the front doors.”

  He’s holding my hand! He’s holding my hand!

  A few minutes later, we were strolling down the short paved road to the inn, my hand still inside his. He’d let go of it in order to open the door and re-lock it behind us, but I was glad when he reached for me again.

  At the inn’s restaurant, which was on the main floor off the lobby, we were greeted by a woman who smiled warmly at both of us. “Hey, Ryan.”

  “Hey, April. Got you working in here tonight, huh?”

  “That’s what happens when you’re the boss’s daughter.” She rolled her eyes, but she laughed. “You’d think we’d get special treatment, but nope—we’re always on call to fill in.”

  Ryan put a hand on my back. “This is Stella. She’s Ruth Gardner’s granddaughter, visiting from Detroit.”

  April smiled and held out her hand. “Wonderful! Who doesn’t love Ruthie Gardner? I keep bugging her to share her pie crust recipe with me. It’s divine. But she guards it like a mama bear.”

  I laughed and shook her hand. “I’ll give you a hint—the secret ingredient is vodka.”

  “Is it really?” April squealed. “Good Lord, I love her. Such a spitfire. And she’s gotta be what, ninety?”

  “Ninety-three next month,” I confirmed.

  April shook her head. “Unbelievable. I hope I’m in that kind of condition at her age, and loving my life as much.”

  “Same.”

  “April is the event planner here,” Ryan said. “We work together a lot.”

  “Which is a nice way of saying I’m always asking him to move furniture around.” April laughed as she pulled two menus from the hostess stand.

  “My sister is an event planner,” I told her. “She does tons of weddings, so I know how much work they are.”

  April smiled. “Well, it’s lovely to meet you. Right this way, I have a great table for you. It’s surprisingly busy in here tonight, so I’m glad you called, Ryan.” Over her shoulder, she stage-whispered to me, “We don’t normally take reservations, but this guy is special.”

  I smiled. “I agree.”

  The table was near the fireplace, which crackled invitingly and made the large room feel warm and cozy. Or maybe it was the bottle of wine we polished off. Or the attraction simmering between us.

  As our meal progressed, from Caesar salad prepared tableside to a wood-fired pizza to beef medallions served with ginger-glazed carrots—all of which we shared since the menu looked so good we couldn’t choose—it was clear that I hadn’t imagined the easy connection I’d felt at his house last night. He wasn’t talkative by any means, and he tended to answer questions about himself with as few words as possible, but he was an attentive listener, asked more about my family and hobbies, and teased me occasionally about my sheltered upbringing.

  He found it funny that I’d never had a broken bone (“What can I say? I was careful!”), kept my own swear jar as a kid (“Most words were a quarter, but I once whispered the F word after I stubbed a toe and made myself put in a dollar.”), and thought oral sex meant talking dirty (“In my books, they never specified what it was! I just knew something steamy was happening!”).

  He’d had to wipe tears after that one. “Oh God, that’s perfect.”

  “That’s nothing,” I said, tipsy from the wine and loving his laughter. I lowered my voice. “I also thought penises were erect all the time.”

  He nearly choked on the bite he’d just put in his mouth. “What?”

  “Again, I feel books may have led me astray here. The men were always hard in those scenes. And then later, any time I saw or felt one …”

  “Oh my God.” He reached for his water and took several long swallows. “I can’t imagine what a rude awakening that must have been.”

&
nbsp; I cringed. “Yeah. It was bad.”

  “Now you have to tell me.”

  Laughing, I shook my head. “It’s too embarrassing.”

  “Tell me.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut for a second. “So I was making out with this guy my freshman year of college, and he sort of shoved my hand down his pants, but it was all … flaccid,” I whispered, flopping my hand at the wrist. “Like a wet noodle. I asked him what was wrong with it.”

  Ryan burst out laughing. “You scarred that guy for life. But he deserved it.”

  “He did.” I set my fork down and picked up my water. “Now your turn. Any embarrassing sexual experiences?”

  “Yeah. Last night with you, I was too fast.”

  “Stop. You were not.”

  “I was.” He finished off the last of his wine. “But maybe you’ll let me make it up to you tonight.”

  My core muscles clenched. “Maybe.”

  We decided against having dessert.

  After Ryan paid the bill—we discovered our bottle of wine had been comped—and left a generous tip, we were on our way out when April came hurrying up, a worried look on her face. “Hey, I hate to do this to you, but there’s a couple with a flat tire in the driveway. They might have driven over a nail or something. The guy was trying to change it, but he’s drunk and kinda clueless. It’s the Foxes, do you know them? They’re regulars.”

  Ryan rolled his eyes. “Say no more. I’ll take care of it.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, giving my arm a squeeze. “I know you’re on a date. I hope I’m not ruining it.”

  “It’s not a date,” I assured her, giving Ryan a private smile. “You’re fine.”

  He returned the smile, and I thought to myself, Nothing can ruin tonight.

  Cue drunk asshole.

  April brought us over to the car, a black Lexus sedan, which was parked along the circular drive in front of the inn. “Mr. and Mrs. Fox, this is Ryan Woods. He’s part of our crew here, and even though he’s not on duty at the moment, he’s going to help you out.”

  The couple looked to be about my parents’ age, early sixties maybe. They were well-dressed, and the woman wore quite a bit of jewelry. “How nice,” she said with a chuckle. “I’m afraid Chad isn’t much good at these things.”