"I think it's better than ducking into bathrooms whenever we see one another. We have to get through your mother's party and Brad's memorial service. So far, we haven't done a great job. We were always friends and good ones, too."
"I don't really need any more friends."
Now this was the Ryan Beck she'd known and loved. Stubborn as a mule. She'd learned not to take any of his crap and give as could as he gave. A woman had to be strong to deal with a man like that. She'd learned about boundaries and sticking to them.
"Whatever. I'm going to eat. You can stand there like an idiot or you can join me. I'm not going to waste my breath."
Turning her back on him, she began to gather plates, napkins, and forks, not daring to look back and see what he was doing. If he wanted to huff back to his apartment, he was welcome to but she was going to make sure he looked petty doing it. She left his plate of food on the counter and took her own back into the living room, turning on the television and then curling up on the corner of the couch. She could see that he was just standing there but she ignored him, taking a bite of the delicious food and thinking that he should eat while it was hot.
The wafting aroma of mouthwatering food must have eventually got to him because he finally picked up his own plate and sat down on the couch as well.
With a cushion between them.
Your virtue is safe with me, asshole.
Ryan might be gorgeous but she wasn't so hard up for male companionship that she'd jump his bones without warning or at least an invitation.
They didn't speak until their plates were empty and their stomachs full. Mariah took the dishes into the kitchen and rinsed them off before loading them into the dishwasher.
"Glass of wine? I was thinking that I'd have one."
She didn't wait for him to respond, simply pulling down two glasses. If he didn't want any, he'd stop her before she poured the wine.
"Let me do that," he said, taking the corkscrew from her hand. Their fingers had brushed and she felt the old familiar heat she remembered from his touch.
Now that's inconvenient. Crap. I was afraid that would happen.
"I can do it myself," she said but she didn't try to get the corkscrew back or protest any more. "I don't need a man to open a bottle of wine."
"I was trying to be helpful."
Right, and she was the Queen of England.
"You were trying to show me that I didn't know what I was doing and that you were better at it. Being the best is important to you."
It wasn't his fault though. It had been drilled into him by Jack and Patricia Beck. His parents had much to answer for. Poor Ryan had never had a chance.
"That's not true."
Mariah had to hide her laughter at his denial.
"Whatever you say."
Clearly, she'd annoyed him.
"No, it's not whatever I say. You said it. Own it."
Did he think she wouldn't?
"Fine, I said it and I own it. You like to be the best, Ryan. This cannot be news to you at this point in your life. It was a huge bone of contention between us when we were dating."
He finished pouring the wine and pushed a glass toward her. "I don't remember any of this. Maybe you're thinking of another guy."
"I don't think I could confuse you with anyone else. Are you denying that you're competitive as hell? Because I have vivid memories of you getting pissy because you lost a Monopoly game to me one New Year's Eve. Or how about the time that I did better on a Chemistry exam than you did? You acted like a jackwagon then too. Basically, any time anyone else does something better than you, you get butthurt."
"That's not true."
Mariah took a sip of the rich cabernet before responding. She shouldn't have opened this can of worms but now that she had...
"So you're denying that any of that ever happened?"
"I'm denying that it bothered me," he said, his tone defensive. "I did not get butthurt. Hell, I was happy for you. I was always your biggest cheerleader, Mariah."
"Really? Are you sure? Because you spent most of that day trying to figure out how I scored so well on that exam. You did everything but accuse me of cheating."
"I did not think you cheated," he protested loudly. "I never thought that."
"But you couldn't believe that I'd scored that high," she shot back. "It was like you'd come upon the mystery of the universe and simply couldn't comprehend how I'd managed it."
He'd lifted the glass to his lips but before taking a drink he slammed it back down on the counter.
"Now, come on. Give me a break. Admit that you were more surprised than I was. You were flunking Chemistry up until that point. Your grades were abysmal by your own admission. So I think you should cut me so damn slack when I'm surprised that you pull an A on the midterm."
She had been flunking chemistry. She'd thought she was going to go down the traditional route of getting her degree and then getting a job, maybe even joining her parents' health food business but in the end, she’d wanted to do her art more. After completing her freshman year, she'd transferred to an art school. Ryan hadn't been happy about that but she'd been determined.
"Yes, I was doing badly," she agreed. "But I'd hired that tutor and buckled down to study hard. How could you be so shocked when I'd received good grades in high school? I was capable, I just hated science classes."
And math. She'd liked psychology and philosophy and tolerated English.
"Excuse me for being surprised that you raised your grade from a D to an A."
"You still can't do it, can you?" she laughed. "Even now, all these years later you hate to admit that you were wrong. Well...you were. Get over it."
"I can admit when I'm wrong."
"You can but you don't like to. You'll go down every other path until it's the only option available to you. You're so much like your father."
The words were out before she could stop them. It was absolutely the wrong thing to say even if it was true. It was a sure-fire way to piss off Ryan, and she wasn't even trying to do that.
"I am not like my father," he said through gritted teeth. A muscled jumped in his jaw and his cheeks had turned slightly red. He was angry. "I wasn't then and I'm not now."
"I don't want to argue with you, Ryan."
"You want us to be friends."
He said it like it was completely out of the question. Perhaps he was right. He was too much work at the moment.
"I was hoping we could. We have a few things in common. Like how much we both love Liza. It would be far easier for her if we could get along."
"I can get along if you wouldn't always bring up the past."
He didn't want to talk about the past? Fine. She could deal with that.
"Okay, let's talk about the present. Tell me about your new job and how you're going to find out who killed Brad."
Because even Ryan Beck was going to have his hands full with trying to solve a murder from over a decade ago.
7
Ryan had conveniently forgotten how challenging being around Mariah could be. She didn't take any of his crap and never had. On more than one occasion, his own mother had advised him to seek out an easier to be with girlfriend.