She's the One: COunting on Love, Book 1 (9 page)

“Yes.” This wasn’t at all how he’d expected the night to end either, but he was pretty good at recognizing when it was time to move on. Like whenever things got complicated.

“But I thought you wanted a night with me?” She looked adorably confused.

“I did.” He also wasn’t into lying.

“So why aren’t you staying?” She pulled out of his arms, but stood facing him squarely.

“Let me ask you something first,” he said. “What was with getting Jennifer involved when you and I were on the couch?”

Amanda didn’t blush or stammer. “I was trying to make sure you were as into everything as I was.”

“What made you think that would do it?” he asked with a slight frown.

“Because it wasn’t until she was touching me that you came out on the dance floor.”

He felt his eyes widen. “Seriously? You think she was the reason?
You
were the reason, Mandi. Because you asked me to look out for you and not let anyone touch you under your dress. Remember? The guy was going under your skirt.”

“Oh.” She seemed to be recalling the moment. Then she said, “But the only reason you interrupted was because I asked you to keep an eye on me?”

“Right.”

“So, if he’d tried that, but I
hadn’t
said that, you would have let it happen?”

Ryan looked into her eyes for a moment. See, this was one of those complicated, mixed-up emotions that just seemed like such a waste of time. “Are you asking if I would have been jealous? Yes. I’d envy anyone who got to touch you. But would I have interrupted it? Not if you were enjoying it. If you’d given any indication that you didn’t want or like his—or her—touch, I would have stepped in. But if you liked it, then no. That would be your call, not mine.”

She watched him equally as long as he had her. Then she said, “You’re the kind of guy to step in if
any
woman needed some help.”

“Yes.”

He was. Sometimes people treated each other like crap and he didn’t like it. If someone was being harassed somehow, he’d step in. Temporarily. That’s why being a paramedic fit him so well. He could do a lot of very good work, but it was up to someone else to really dig in and figure out the long-term, complicated things, like what kind of surgery someone needed to repair their broken hip or what kind of social services they needed to get out of the abusive situation they were in.

His mom had taught him to “as far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons”, as it said in the copy of Max Ehrmann’s “Desiderata” she had hanging on their living room wall. But the poem also said “Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.” He was happy with doing his part and trusting others to do theirs. His part was the upfront, in-the-moment, right-now needs. The long-term, later-on stuff was someone else’s forte.

Amanda finally nodded. “I thought so.”

He wasn’t sure what that meant, and he’d learned a long time ago that it was often best to just leave it alone when women said something he didn’t fully understand.

“So, I’m going to get going.”

“But…this wasn’t all that Tim thought we did together.”

He nodded and turned back to open the door. The sooner he was in the hallway with a solid, locked door between them, the better. Eventually he was going to smack himself for walking away from Amanda. He could have her. She wanted it. She wasn’t too drunk. But…

“The thing is, Amanda, I’m not into it now.” It was only kind of a lie.

“You’re not into it now?” she repeated. Then her cheeks got pink. “Okay.” She swallowed hard. “Fine. Good night.”

Part of him—a very big part of him—wanted to ignore her reaction, pretend it really was fine and walk out the door. He even took a step closer to the doorway. But he couldn’t do it. His mom was a woman, and when she said she was fine, she was. If she wasn’t fine, she also told him that. But he had learned in his thirty-one years of life that women like his mother were rare. Very rare.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, gripping the doorknob one final time before letting go and letting the door swing shut.

“Nothing.” Now she did kick her shoes off and again hugged her arms tight across her stomach. “It’s fine. I don’t want you to stay if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to,” he said honestly. “The mood got lost somewhere along the way.”

“You didn’t want to go to the club in the first place,” Amanda said. “And then I shocked you, right? You didn’t think I had all of that in me?”

He hadn’t analyzed when the mood change had actually happened, but now that he paused for a moment, he knew exactly what had done it. “It wasn’t about the club, exactly.”

“Was it Jennifer?”

“Not really.”

“Was it what I said about Emma?”

He shook his head. “Not exactly. I didn’t like that, but it was more…” He wasn’t sure if he should say it.

“What, Ryan?”

He sighed. “It’s that you clearly don’t respect me. And I didn’t realize that mattered. But turns out it does.”

She stared at him. “Why do you think I don’t respect you?”

“Because tonight, the club, me—it’s all stuff you would never normally do. It’s all stuff you frown about your sisters doing. And you were surprised to hear that I have conversations with the women I go out with, that I get to know them, even do things with them that don’t involve getting naked. I…” He stopped and took a deep breath. “I guess I don’t want to fit into the mold you’ve created for me.”

Amanda didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t swallow.

“Good night, Amanda. I’ll see you around.”

The door shut behind Ryan and Amanda finally let out the air she’d been holding. Then she deadbolted the door, shut off all the lights and went straight to the bed. She slipped out of her dress and slid, naked, between the sheets. Once her head hit the pillow, she covered her face with her hands and let Ryan’s words replay in her mind.

Oh, God.

She was such a bitch.

She’d been living her life for so long so as not to embarrass anyone she cared about, and then she went and embarrassed
herself
big and bad. And with a guy that she
would
see again. A guy who knew her brother.

And she’d told him about Coach.

Oh,
God.
Why had she done that?

But she knew instantly—she hated the idea that Ryan thought she was an unreasonable, judgmental bitch, so she’d tried to make him understand.

She flopped over onto her stomach, glared at the clock and decided not to waste the perfectly good hotel room—hot sex with Ryan or not.

But an hour later when her mortification had failed to fade, she realized that she would need to make it up to him somehow. And an hour after that, she thought maybe she knew the way.

Four hours later, she was awake again. Not happy about it, but unable to reverse it.

So she got up and showered, dressed and tried to figure out how to see Ryan again. She knew where he worked, of course. But finding him there would be difficult without her brother knowing about it and wondering why. She didn’t know where he lived, and didn’t have his phone number.

But Emma did.

Dammit.

Emma would know exactly how to get a hold of Ryan. In fact, it seemed that they were
friends
on top of being a past hookup. After Ryan’s clear offense the night before at her surprise over the friendship, she knew she should probably feel bad about not knowing he and Emma had been more than a one-night stand. But in her defense…how would she have known that? Emma never talked about Ryan in any way other than to say that he was amazing and had kept her up all night and that he’d likely ruined her for other men.

Really, what was Amanda supposed to think after all of that? Why would she have assumed that all they’d done was skinny-dip?

But she’d clearly hurt his feelings. So she needed to make it up to him. Somehow.

So to get the information from Emma, Amanda would have to tell her what had happened.

And it was Sunday morning. Emma was doing what Amanda was supposed to have been doing that day, which meant Emma would be at church with their mother in about an hour.

Church.

Hmmm… She couldn’t get the third degree in the middle of church.

An hour later, Amanda slid into the pew next to Olivia, putting Emma and Olivia between her and their mother. “Amanda?” Olivia whispered. “What are you doing here?”

“I haven’t been to church with Emma for a really long time,” Amanda said softly as the music started. “I thought it would nice for Mom to have three of her four here.” None of that was exactly
un
true.

They all stood for the opening hymn, and Amanda reached behind Olivia and pinched Emma’s arm.

“Hey!” She glanced over with a frown.

Amanda held up the note she’d written on scratch paper in the car, then handed it to her sister.

Still frowning, Emma took the slip of paper, but clearly figuring out that it was a secret if they were passing it behind Olivia’s back, she surreptitiously read it. Her eyes widened and she gave Amanda a questioning look.

Amanda shrugged. The note simply said,
What’s Ryan’s number?

Emma patted her dress, indicating she didn’t have a pen. And truthfully, it was tight enough that no way could a pen have gone unnoticed.

Damn. Amanda glanced quickly at the front of the church and amended it to
dang
. She hadn’t brought a pen either.

She sighed. Emma reached and pinched her. Three times quickly in a row.

Amanda shot an annoyed glance at her. Emma tipped her head and mouthed
three
. Amanda frowned and shook her head. Emma frowned and held up three fingers.

Ah, this was how they were going to do this.

Great. She was going to have to remember whatever numbers Emma gave her via code. Fine.

She motioned for Emma to go ahead. But Emma gave her a grin and faced forward as the song ended and the minister started the first prayer. Amanda sighed. Great. Emma was worried about Amanda staying through the whole church service. This was perfect.

Five minutes later, Emma coughed. Twice. It was clearly a fake cough and Amanda glanced over. Emma didn’t look at her but she grinned again.

Okay, three then two.

Throughout the service Emma gave her one number at a time. She itched the cheek closest to Amanda with two fingers. She pointed to the five in the number for the third hymn. She reached behind Olivia and flicked Amanda’s arm four times during the part where everyone stood and greeted those around them. She sneezed once, but quickly shook her head when Amanda looked over indicating that the sneeze had been real. The second one was too. But then she crossed her legs and tapped the toe of her shoe against the pew in front of them six times. Then finally, at the end of the service as they all stood and gathered their purses and their mother began her social time, Emma looked at Amanda and said, “One.”

“Three two two five four six one?” Amanda repeated.

Emma nodded. “You got it.”

“We could have just done it this way after the service was over,” Amanda pointed out.

“I know,” Emma said, looking smug. “But this was way more fun. Plus now I can ask you why you need to know.”

“What do you need to know?” Olivia asked.

“Nothing,” Amanda said, knowing full well that wouldn’t suffice.

“A phone number,” Emma said easily.

“A guy?”

Amanda sighed. “Yes. Okay? Fine. A guy.”

Olivia didn’t say anything more as she was surrounded by three older ladies who were trying to talk her into teaching the second grade Sunday school class.

“Why do you need to talk to Ryan?” Emma asked.

Amanda looked at her sister. Ryan had said there was more there than she thought. He said there were things about Emma that might surprise her.

“Would it be possible for me to leave this as I just need to?”

Emma looked at her for a long minute, head tipped to one side. Then she nodded. “Okay.”

That did surprise Amanda.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Let me know if you need anything else.” Emma turned in time to link her arm with her mother’s and lead Marla toward the social hall—and away from Amanda—where they would spend the next hour with cinnamon rolls and coffee.

That also surprised Amanda.

But she’d have to think about her sister being more than expected another time. It was Sunday, day two, the last day of her excuse to do whatever she wanted. Emma wasn’t going to take over all of her responsibilities come Monday morning.

She headed for her car, dialing Ryan’s number as she went. She had no idea if he’d gone straight home after dropping her off or not. Maybe he’d gone out, found another girl who didn’t make him feel like she disapproved of everything he did.

Well, even if he had, she wanted a chance to show him that there was more to her than he was expecting too.

He answered on the fifth ring. “Kaye.”