“I think Mr. West has better things to do than go get ice cream with us,” I say, immediately coming up with an excuse for Ryan so he doesn’t have to. I’ve been put on the spot by Lina before. I’m her mother, and even though I’d say I’m pretty good at holding my ground, Lina definitely got her father’s charming ability to talk herself out of almost every situation.
“I appreciate the offer,” Ryan says, glancing between us, “but your mum’s right. It’s not that I have better things to do, but there are still loads of things that need to be taken care of before we start shooting. Boring, not-as-fun-as-getting-ice-cream sorts of things.”
Nice recovery.
From the unsure look on Lina’s face, I don’t think she believes him. She doesn’t say anything though, just nods and offers him a sad little smile before walking toward the open, bay door.
“I think that’s my cue.” I chuckle, my gaze following Lina as she steps out of the warehouse. “Thank you for taking the time out of your day to show her the set. It meant a lot to her—and me too.”
“Of course. Anytime, love,” he says.
When my eyes return to him, I’m met with an ear-to-ear grin that causes me to suck in a breath of the humid September air.
“Enjoy your ice cream,” he adds.
Before I can stop myself, I open my mouth, the words coming out without any thought or consideration. “You know, if you want to come, you’re more than welcome to. I just assumed you had things to do, and I know what it’s like having to say no to Lina. I shouldn’t have answered for you. It’s just that the ice cream stand is a half-hour away and I promised her we’d play mini golf. I’m sure it’s the last thing you’d spend your Saturday afternoon doing…and you know what, I’m sorry. I tend to ramble on when I’m nervous.”
Oh. My. God. Carina. Stop. Fucking. Talking.
With the same stupidly charming grin on his face, Ryan closes the laptop in front of him. “Come to think of it, there’s nothing that can’t wait until Monday.”
His eyes bore into mine as he stands up. The intensity of his stare sends goosebumps up my arms and down my spinal cord simultaneously.
“As long as you promise that I’m not intruding on mother-daughter time,” he says.
Shaking my head, I assure him it was a spur of the moment decision made to celebrate Lina’s soccer win.
How the fuck am I going to keep my cool around him all day?
It probably doesn’t help that every time I look at him, all I see is a replay of the dream that had me sleeping past my alarm this morning. I never remember my dreams. Ever. The good or the bad ones. Even when I have nightmares, I just wake up and feel scared or sad, without recollection of what had caused those feelings.
I have a vivid memory of what happened last night. Despite the off-setting beginning of the night, it ended perfectly. I was with almost all of the people that matter most to me. I had begun to form a friendship with the producers of my show. And, I got to have cheese fries and a black raspberry milkshake at my grandparents’ diner.
What didn’t happen was Ryan’s hands wandering all over me while we danced in the middle of Retro. I didn’t have a single sip of beer the entire night, but this morning, I swore I could taste the malty hops of his after the kiss we’d shared. A kiss I knew damn well only happened in a subconscious dreamland.
With a million things to focus on, it had been easy to shake off this morning. But, as soon as Ryan was close to me, as soon as I smelled the familiar woodsy scent of his cologne, it brought me right back to Retro.
Not the version of Retro from last night that I know existed. Instead, I could feel his hands gripping my waist as we moved to the beat of a Mary J. Blige song. I could hear him calling me “love” as I swung my hips back and forth slowly, my only intention to make him feel as turned on as I did in that moment.
“Carina? Are you all right?” Ryan asks.
The sound of his voice pulls me back to earth. Back to the warehouse set and having to pretend I hadn’t dreamed about his hard cock rubbing against my ass last night.
“Oh yeah,” I say, brushing it off. “Just thinking about how unfair it’s going to be when I school your ass in mini golf.”
Just before we walk out of the building together, Ryan stops to let me go ahead, hitting a button on the inside to close the door. He runs out as soon as it starts inching down.
“So, turns out,” he says, his attention directed at Lina’s confused face, “I can make it for ice cream after all. Rumor has it your mum is going to ‘school me’ in mini golf as well.”
As expected, Lina bursts out in a fit of giggles. I tap the key fob to unlock the Jeep and roll my eyes at her instant betrayal.
“Why. Would. You. Say. That?” she asks, her words broken up between her laughter. The sound of Lina’s amusement fills the Jeep as we all settle into our seats. It’s such a beautiful sound. If only it wasn’t at my expense.
“I must’ve missed something,” Ryan says. The puzzled tone in his voice is contradictory to the lopsided smirk and the sudden brightness in his honey brown eyes.
“My mom is horrible at mini golf,” Lina explains, throwing me right under the bus without hesitation.
Little traitor.
“I’ve beat her in every game we’ve played since I was a little kid,” she says.
“You’re eight,” I deadpan. As I turn the key in the ignition, I shake my head. “You’re still a little kid.”
“You know what I mean,” she rebuts.
I catch the devilish smile growing on her face as I place my hand on the back of the headrest that belongs to the seat currently occupied by Ryan. I keep my eyes on the empty space behind us as I reverse out of the parking spot.
“You’ve never won a game. Ever,” Lina adds.
“How about a wager?” Ryan interjects, and I can feel his eyes on me as I try to focus on the road ahead of us. “Loser buys ice cream.”
“You’re on.”
17
Ryan
Losing isn’t something I like to do—willingly or unwillingly. I’ve certainly never lost at something intentionally.
Until today.
Crazy golf—or I guess, mini golf here in the States—had become somewhat of a trend back home. I’m not too sure if it’s still as big as it was two years ago, but pop-up crazy golf locations were well, popping up all over London rooftops, parks, and shopping malls. The coolest one I’d gone to was in an abandoned WW2 bunker.
I never lost a game; not even when I went with a date. And I’m always a gracious winner. Throwing a win in someone’s face only makes you look like an arse, but you sure can tell a lot about a person when they’re losing. There was even one girl who walked right off the course in the middle of the date because she couldn’t handle the fact that I wouldn’t let her win.
Intuition alone tells me that Carina is nothing like Marni or any of the women my gran tried to set me up with back home. She celebrated Lina’s four holes-in-one as if they were her own. She laughed as I followed and then failed to make it in after one long drive and three puts. In the next hole, she even helped by kicking my ball in when Lina wasn’t looking.