Even their arguing felt familiar, but not nearly as catastrophic as it had seemed when they were younger. Then every disagreement had been bigger and more important than it really was. Now, this was only some light bickering.
Her brows shot up. "Did you just call me snippy, Ryan Beck? You better take that back quick."
"I take it back," he said immediately, holding up his hands in surrender. He'd only said it to get a reaction from her. It was a bad habit from the past. "I'm sorry."
"Snippy," she muttered under her breath. "Really? I should make you go to your parents' dinner all by yourself for that crack, buster."
"I really am sorry," he apologized again. "I don't know why I'm trying to pick a fight with you."
She stepped into the apartment and tossed her purse on the kitchen counter. "I know why you're doing it. You're doing it to keep me at arm's length. Mission accomplished. I don't want to be around you right now. Congratulations."
He opened his mouth to tell her she was wrong but then snapped it shut again. She was probably right. If they were arguing, then he wouldn't think about how much he'd missed her all these years. How he still thought about her when it was most inconvenient.
Like when he was with other women.
If he was completely honest with himself, he'd been comparing his dates with Mariah his entire adult life. He didn't enjoy the feeling that he'd been that disingenuous in his relationships. It didn't speak well of him and the women deserved better.
"I appreciate the apology," she said, holding the door open for him. "Now I think I'd like to lie down and rest for a little while. You can send me a text and let me know what time we're leaving for dinner."
She was mad at him. Hell, he was mad at himself. It might be a good idea to give them both some space.
"We can leave at six if that's convenient."
"It's fine."
Apparently, Ryan didn't know shit about women, but one thing he did know was that it wasn't a good thing when they said something was fine. It wasn't fine, and he was going to hear about it at some point.
"I'll call you later."
"Fine."
Shit...two fines in a row. He was in the doghouse and eating Milk-Bones.
Since the minute his plane had touched down in Chicago, he'd been acting like an asshole to Mariah. It had to stop.
Something had to change. Because one very important thing hadn't.
He still had feelings for Mariah Campbell.
Mariah was still fuming when she slammed her door shut the minute that Ryan exited her apartment. Yes, it was petty, but that was the mood she was in at the moment. He was being a jerk on purpose and she was tired of it. They'd been circling each other like two boxers and she was exhausted. They weren't getting anywhere - which she assumed was the whole point of his behavior - and she couldn't take much more.
Grant had hit a nerve at lunch when he'd pointed out that she and Ryan had unfinished business. Mariah had managed to dig a hole and bury it but since his arrival it had brought up so much emotion from the past.
I'm not completely over him. I still miss him.
They'd had their issues but looking back they didn't seem so insurmountable now. When she was young, she'd thought that they needed to agree on everything. Now she could see that was a naive hope. She didn't want to date a carbon copy of herself. She wanted to be challenged and shown new things.
He hadn't been much better, though. He'd been so stubborn when at least she'd been open to compromise. Except her idea of compromise was that he needed to be more like her. His idea of compromise was that everything went his way. It was a recipe for disaster. But then, they'd been so young. They hadn't known shit about life or relationships.
When it all came down to it, Ryan Beck was still the best man she'd ever known. Bar none. Frankly, it wasn't even a close race.
So now what?
She didn't have a clue. She only knew that she and Ryan had history and that neither one of them was very good at ignoring it.
Back at his own apartment, Ryan made himself a sandwich and popped open a soda before settling at the kitchen island to eat. As much as his brain wanted to dwell on the problem across the hall, he needed to lasso his thoughts and stay on track. He was in Chicago to figure out what happened to Brad. That had to be his priority. His personal problems were lower down the list. Halfway through his turkey on rye, he called his boss Jared Monroe.
"How's Chicago?"
Jared must have been working from home because there was the definite sound of laughing children in the background. He and his wife had two, plus a dog named after Stevie Nicks, the singer from Fleetwood Mac.
"Hot, but that's not unusual in the summer."
"Have some Chicago pizza for me. Man, I love that stuff."
"I haven't yet but I will. I got your message. What have you got for me? I can't believe you were able to find anything on Brad's finances. It was over ten years ago. That's amazing."
"It wasn't that difficult, actually," Jared chuckled. "Your friend's finances were all wound up in his family's finances, and most of those accounts are still around. Plus nothing is ever really deleted in this world of computer databases. You might have to dig a little bit, but eventually you'll find it."
Jared was known for finding out information that others couldn't get. Ryan didn't know what witchcraft or voodoo the older man used, but it came in damn useful at times.
"So I'll just get right to the important question. Did you find anything interesting?"
"Depends on what you call interesting and what you may already know about Bradley Harrington. He spent a hell of a lot of money, and his family didn't seem to mind. They kept him supplied with cash and a pretty much unlimited credit line which he used with abandon. Clothes, trips, booze, and what looks like gifts to females. Perfume, lingerie, jewelry. That sort of stuff."
"I know all of that," Ryan admitted. "Brad loved to be the guy that picked up the tab or bought several rounds. For all his issues, he was generous as hell. I heard that he paid a bunch of bills for a classmate in college because that guy didn't have any family to help him and was working two jobs plus school."
"He sounds like a decent guy, but that's not all I found out."
"I'm listening."
Maybe Jared had found something that would help the investigation. Right now, Ryan didn't feel like he'd made any progress at all.
"Your friend was a gambler. Big time. Did you know that?"
"I knew he gambled," Ryan replied carefully. "When you say he was a big gambler, how big are you talking about? Like he bet a lot of money on the Super Bowl? Because, Brad did like to make bets on football."
"He spent a hell of a lot of money on it year-round so I suspect that he bet on more than football. It looks like he gambled regularly."
Brad was addicted to gambling? It wasn't the most far-fetched thing that Ryan could find out about his old friend. When Brad loved something, he loved it a lot. More than anything. When he did anything, he went all out, balls to the wall. There were never any half-measures. It was go big or go home.