He skimmed a thumb over her cheek, pleased when she tipped her face into his palm. “I’d be happy to.”
She blew out a breath. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
“G’night.” With one last brush of her lips, she opened the door.
Ryan waited until she’d gone inside, then strolled back to the truck. It was official. He was in over his head, way deeper than he’d intended. Right at the moment, he had a hard time caring. This was the most relaxed he’d been in years. All because of her. He was grateful she’d blown into his life, grateful she’d somehow scaled his defenses to show him she was the kind of woman he never knew he always wanted. What the hell that meant for them, he didn’t know. But he suspected she’d be on the same page for finding out.
His phone rang as he slid into the driver’s seat. Expecting his mom wanting an update on Percy, he fished it out. But it wasn’t her number flashing on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Malone, it’s Petrie.”
At the deadly serious voice of Jerod Petrie, one of the members of his team, all Ryan’s pleasure evaporated. Jerod was still in Afghanistan. He’d only be calling for one reason.
Tension coiled in his muscles. “What happened?”
In the silence, Jerod’s sigh was heavier than an M1 Abrams tank. “I didn’t want to call and tell you this on your time off, what with your family worries and all, but I knew you’d be more pissed if you didn’t find out until you got back.” He drew in a ragged breath. “Robbie Haskins is dead.”
Chapter 9
“What’s that frown for, sugar?” Mama Pearl nudged Hannah’s shoulder. “Does somebody need some butt kickin’ or some pie?”
Hannah’s lips curved up at that. “There’s always a reason for some of your pie.”
Mama Pearl automatically lifted the dome off a beautiful lemon meringue and cut a piece. “Tell Mama Pearl what’s wrong.”
She loved this woman. “Nothing’s wrong. At least, I don’t think so. I just haven’t heard back from Ryan today.”
“Ah. The soldier. You been spendin’ a lot of time with him the past couple weeks. Been smilin’ more, too. And with you, that’s saying somethin’.”
Her cheeks heated and she forked up a bite of pie. “I like him.” Okay, she’d edged well past the simple stage of like, but she didn’t want to think about what that meant just yet. “Anyway, we’re supposed to have plans this afternoon, but he hasn’t answered my texts or phone call. That’s not like him. I’m starting to worry something’s happened to Percy.”
“I reckon Percy’s fine.” Mama Pearl nodded toward the front window, where the man in question stood having a conversation with Duke.
The dog sat on the sidewalk, staring up at his new human with focus. Percy looped the leash around the bench by the front door and came inside. “Ladies.”
“Hey, Percy. What brings you into town today?” Mama Pearl asked.
“Need a pie. I’m headed over to the senior center for a poker tournament. Buy-in is dessert.”
“You got a preference what kind?”
“Whatever I can get a whole one of.”
“Coming’ right up.”
As Mama Pearl went to retrieve a fresh pie from the back, Hannah debated whether it made her nosy or needy to question Percy about Ryan. Ultimately, he took it out of her hands.
“You going by the house after you get off in a bit?”
“I’m not quite sure what I’m doing. Ryan’s been incommunicado today.”
“He woke up in a crap mood and got it into his head to tackle the garage. We’ve been working on it since first thing this morning. I doubt he’s looked at his phone.”
“Oh.” Well, there was her explanation. Simple. “What’s he in a bad mood about?”
“Don’t rightly know. He didn’t say and I didn’t ask. But I figure you can cheer him right on up since that seems to be your super power.”
“I expect I can make an effort in that direction.”
“The poker tournament ought to last well into the evening, so you’ve got plenty of time.”
Her face froze. Was he suggesting what she thought he was suggesting? She caught the twinkle in Percy’s eyes. Mortified heat crawled up her throat and across her cheeks. “So you’re saying we’re on our own for dinner?”
“Sure. I used to be a helluva poker player, so I expect I’ll be full up on sweets by then.”
Translation: The house will be completely empty for hours.
Wondering if she could just sink through the floor and die of embarrassment, she choked out, “Noted.”
Mama Pearl emerged with the pie, shooting a curious glance between the two of them before ringing Percy’s order up.
“Good luck with the poker tournament.”
“Thanks. I’m hoping somebody will be bringing baklava. My Janie used to make it for me. It’s my favorite.”
Carolanne made amazing baklava. Filing that detail away, Hannah waved and turned back to her pie. By the time she’d finished the pie and her shift, she’d worked her way through the embarrassment. Mostly. If Ryan’s bad mood stemmed from sexual frustration, well, she could relate. She’d lain awake far too late last night, thinking about what they hadn’t finished. So maybe it was worth putting off their plans of driving for far more pleasurable pursuits.
The garage door was down by the time Hannah made it to the house, so she trotted up the steps and knocked on the door. When Ryan didn’t answer, she tried the knob. Locked. Maybe he was in the shower? Or working out back? Circling around the house, she scanned the backyard, but he wasn’t out there. So she went back to the front door and rang the bell. This time the door was yanked open.
Her flirty smile slid away as she caught sight of Ryan’s face. The stoic soldier mask was back, along with that unnatural stillness that had to be part of his training. “Hey. I tried to get up with you earlier.”
“Sorry. I was busy.”
“Percy came by the diner and said you’d been tackling the garage. That’s quite the project.” She stepped into the house and tried to slip her arms around him, but he stepped back.
The rejection struck her like a slap. He was hard-core walls up. Clearly, they weren’t going to be picking up where they’d been interrupted last night. Not yet, anyway. Shoving down her disappointment and hurt, she slid her hands into her coat pockets. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you and Percy have a fight?”
“No.” He grabbed his coat and the keys. “Let’s get this over with.”
Her pleasure at seeing him began to wane as he yanked the door open and gestured her ahead of him. In its place, the vague anxiety she always had when faced with the prospect of driving mushroomed up and pressed down on her like a cloud of ash. With every step out of the house, every foot closer to the truck, the pressure cranked tighter. At her back, she could feel his impatience, and her hands began to shake.
Clenching them into fists, she stopped before circling around to the driver’s side. “You know what? Today’s not a good day for this.”