Turn The Page (Kissed by A Muse Book 2) (13 page)

Twelve

Leigh

L
eigh had been dead on her feet in the limousine ride home, exhausted by the abundance of male drama cascading over Niagara Falls more heavily than the tons of water the town was famous for. But the idea of meeting Kathryn Praser had electrified her, putting a rosy glow on the world and a song in her heart. As she scrubbed her hair in the shower, she hummed ‘Honey’ and allowed the solitude to fill her and fortify her for the days to come.

This is why I’ve gone through all of this! The past two days have been a trial and now that I’ve passed, I’m going to experience one THOUSAND times more than I’d hoped! And after, Ryan will have some sort of an answer, and I’ll have met my hero. Oh my god!

Leigh shaved her legs and rinsed the conditioner out of her hair before getting out of the shower and finger combing her sodden locks. There was a heating lamp in the ceiling, but she was shaking so violently by the time she’d performed her nighttime beauty regime that she wasted no time picking out her warmest jammies- an oversized top she’d gotten from a Hooters in Boston that she’d already cut the neckline off, and furry, tiger-striped pyjama bottoms that she’d brought from home, which matched the colour of the Hooters print enough to satisfy her OCD demons and keep her legs toasty warm.

I hope Ryan calls tomorrow so I can warn him to finish the book ASAP!

Leigh added her thickest, woolliest white bed socks and plaited her hair into one tail at the side before pulling on a white beanie. When she’d done that she turned off her lights and picked up her iPad, flicking through her Kindle library, and trying to recall if she had Picnic At Hanging Rock in there. She was so happy to be in comfortable clothes again that it was almost as nice to slip under the covers of her bed, as it had been to slip into the spa in the fancier room.

Romance is a state of mind- not an expensive hotel room. The only thing that could make this moment better would be a cup of hot chocolate and a fireplace…

Leigh located the book she’d had itching at the back of her brain like a sand-fly bite since she’d referenced it to Ryan, opened it to the first chapter and settled back against the soft pillows, that were nicer than her own at home, but less comfortable for not being hers.

I’ll read this for a while until the itch is scratched, and then… maybe… dig into some of the nasty stuff for a while to scratch that itch that Ryan keeps provoking. Hmm... Maybe that one with the bad threesome on the cover? That’ll do the trick quickly, right?

But Leigh only just read for long enough for her body to sink into a perfectly comfortable position- one in which her damn Kindle iPad rotate sideways- when she heard the soft knock on the door. She sat up, adjusting her glasses so that she could peer through them at the digital alarm clock next to her bed. It was quarter to eleven! Who went knocking on women’s hotel room doors at quarter to eleven on a Wednesday night?

Someone who I’m probably going to have to make a formal complaint about, if he doesn’t stop lurking! Gah!

Leigh contemplated not getting out of the bed- of playing sleeping possum- but the possibility that Bruce was standing outside her door with Kathryn Praser’s address was too exciting for her to ignore. She threw off the cover and crossed the room, opening the door, but keeping the latch in place so that she could just peek out into the hallway.

‘Bruce?’ she whispered. ‘I was in bed!’

‘Um…’ Leather moved in front of the crack, and eyes bluer than melted ice stared forlornly through at her. ‘Leigh?’ Ryan’s voice sounded like it was about to break. ‘I’m sorry. I…’

Ryan. Leigh didn’t know how he’d gotten past his rival gargoyle, but she did know that she’d never shut a door more quickly in her life than she did then. Shut- then tore off the chain latch and flung open. ‘Ryan! You-’

‘I had nowhere else to go,’ he said, his voice hoarse as she yanked him into the room and out of sight of the surveillance cameras. ‘I’m sorry.’

Leigh’s heart was pounding wildly. Didn’t he know how much trouble he could get in, if Bruce caught him actually sneaking in? ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded, toying with the end of her plait. ‘Did Bruce see you? He was so pissed that you were here earlier that a good part of the date was really awkward.’

‘No,’ Ryan shook his head and sank down on the edge of her bed, clutching the book in his hands with a bag slung over his shoulder.  His teeth and her sheets glowed slightly in the waterfall’s light as it pressed against her glass like a fog, but Leigh kept the lights off and once she’d shut the door, only the sheen of his hair and jacket remained. ‘I came here with… with a girl.’

Leigh curled her fingers in her pants and imaginary ones bit into her heart. ‘Oh?’

‘Yeah. A, um, French girl I met at a bar.’ He averted his eyes. ‘And after I left her, I took the stairs so Bruce wouldn’t spot me and think I was chasing you, and then I heard his voice and ended up stuck in the damn stairwell- for an hour.’ He held up the book, and her eyes had adjusted just enough for her to make out the silvery effects on the cover and the outline of his features. ‘I’ve been reading since- and I had to stop. I was…’ he put the book on the bed beside him and cradled his face in his hands, shielding her from his shadowy beauty long enough for her to realise that he wasn’t just drunk- he was upset.

Leigh stared at him, incredulous. He’d gone home with some wild French chick, but was now in a funk, expecting her to what… console him? Couldn’t he see how green her eyes were? She could sure feel it! To distract herself, Leigh took the book from the bed and opened it to a dog-eared page, about one third of the way through and frowned, scanning the words in the pale darkness, making out only two or three, which was enough to tell her where he was at. ‘This is still early days… nothing sad happens for a while.’

Argh! He slept with someone else after hitting on me? What a jerk! And I told him I liked him too! Jesus, he can’t lie?

‘Yeah. But…’ Ryan swallowed audibly. ‘It’s all sort of right, Leigh. Bout me, I mean.’

Leigh looked up, intrigue shelving her anger. ‘What about you?’

‘My favourite song- Honey, by Bobby Goldsboro. I was singing it this morning, wasn’t I? When you attacked me?’ He sighed as Leigh nodded, stiffening at the memory. ‘I mean, I can’t say that it was my favourite before, but it is now and has been since Imogen played it for me. I remembered that I liked it, and I’ve been playing it since.’ He looked down at his hands, which he now rested on his jean-covered knees. ‘Also, Ryan in there loves Tacos, and I eat them every chance I get. I also sleep in black satin sheets, love night more than day, play lead guitar as well as everything else and I don’t know if I’m a songwriter… but sometimes, I scribble stuff… I thought it was poetry but…’ he lifted his eyes to hers. ‘And the description… it’s me, isn’t it? Or at this point, would have been me at that age. It’s… I can see why you thought…’

Leigh stared into his dark eyes and nodded. ‘It’s so you, that you could have been sketched by one of those police artists off the description…’ she reached out hesitantly and touched his face, feeling more at ease in his company now that she knew he’d bedded someone- and left before sunrise. That wasn’t romantic, and it wasn’t a characteristic she wanted in a lover either, so part of her was relieved that he’d let some of his seedier, true colours shine thorough.

Then again, several other parts of her were enjoying how he felt under her fingertips too much, and in desperate need of her to read her dirty book and get her mind out of the gutter.

‘You’re missing the tongue ring, and the eyebrow ring,’ she continued softly, thumbing his brow, ‘but I can tell that you had an eyebrow one. It could have been torn out when you fell.’

Ryan closed his eyes and his Adam’s apple slid up and down his throat like his fingers over chords. He nodded gently. ‘I thought that too... I was going to get one there to cover the hole but…’ he shrugged, and his eyes opened again, the white’s dazzling her. ‘Do you think it would suit me?’

Leigh didn’t think there was a look in the world that wouldn’t suit him. ‘That’s for you to decide, Ry.’ She lifted his wrist, examining the small tattoo there for the first time ever, having to squint behind her lenses and only just making out the odd assortment of characters inked there. ‘This is different too, so that’s something.’

‘That doesn’t count through, does it? I only got it last month.’ Ryan glanced down at his wrist, fluttering his fingers. ‘For Imogen.’

Leigh covered her swoon with an empathetic smile. ‘What does it say? Those are Greek letters right? Is that her name?’

‘No.’ Ryan pulled his wrist from hers and hugged himself loosely. ‘It’s close though. It says: Imagine. Imogen was always on about the power of thought and… and Lennon was her favourite singer and… it was close to her name so…’ he looked away. ‘Sorry. I don’t want to talk about her right now. I’m still half-cut, I’m in a mood…’

Leigh felt an unwelcome sensation crawl over her skin; rejection.  Was her touch abhorrent to him now that he’d gotten laid elsewhere? She turned to walk away, trying to muster up the courage to tell him to leave, but she felt his touch seconds later and halted.

‘Leigh…’ fingers went for her wrist but missed and slid between hers, tickling them, making her shiver. She stepped further away, out of his reach, and turned on him, trying to look like she had her shit together.

‘I don’t know what you want from me Ryan,’ she said softly, putting her hands on her hips. ‘I’ve told you everything I know, and am doing what I can to learn more. I mean, I can call you a cab or try and distract Bruce so you can get past-’

‘I just read about the adoption part,’ Ryan blurted the words as he stood, surprising her yet again with his sheer height. ‘And, I don’t know why, but that feels like it means something to me. Or… or it means nothing.’ He wet his lips and scratched his head. ‘No, like… like when I think of what parents I might have had, I feel nothing. When I think of my brown-eyed girl, I feel… warm. Like with Imogen- like with you.’ He held out his hands. ‘But shouldn’t parents have left some trace memory? Some feeling? Shouldn’t they be looking for me? Unless…’ his eyes dropped to the book and lifted to hers. ‘Unless that’s true as well, and I’m adopted. If my parents are as cold as those ones are, well… that’s one more reason to jump, isn’t it?’

Leigh’s stomach contracted- it had started when he’d referred to his ex as his ‘brown-eyed girl’ in such a doting tone (since when did he recall her having a face, let alone eyes?!) and then had clenched harder when he’d included her amongst the people who made him feel warm- but then spasmed painfully when he voiced his theory about his parents.

‘They die, Ry. Both of them. Well before the end… and Ryan’s sort of fine with it. The detachment had started years before so… so if you’re not being looked for, there is a chance that there’s no one looking for you…’ Ryan’s face paled and she immediately rushed forward to embrace him. ‘Shoot! Ryan I’m sorry! It’s just a theory, one that could be as far-fetched as the rest of them!’

‘God. Leigh no…’ Ryan rested his face on her shoulder. ‘I’m… I’m taking that well okay, not hard.’ Tentative hands patted her back. ‘I know it sounds awful, but at least I feel that little bit less disposable, if the emergency contact sheet on the old me’s file is empty now.’

Leigh exhaled, pulling back and looking up into his eyes. ‘Ryan, I barely know you- but I know that you’re not disposable. You’re...’

Ryan breathed in sharply and drew back, meeting her gaze, and the air between them shifted again, thickening, closing in around them. She wanted to keep the words going but that air filled and choked her.

I could kiss him, couldn’t I? We wouldn’t have to actually...

Just then, she received a notification on her iPad and the screen illuminated the room just enough for her to make out the conflict on his face. Ryan’s eyes softened, and his cool hand cupped her face.

‘You make me wish that I were in my right mind,’ he whispered softly, ‘just so I could tell you that you’re the only thing that’s been on it since we met, and know that you’d believe me…’

Leigh dragged in a breath that had the consistency and sweetness of cotton candy. ‘That’s not true,’ she protested softly. ‘I’d like it to be, but that’s not true.’ She reached up and ran her thumb against his lower lip and he moaned softly, his eyes closing. Leigh looked at her thumb- at the burgundy lipstick that had rubbed off his perfect mouth, and understood that romance was a state of mind to be policed twice as strongly as it was embraced. ‘You’re still wearing her lipstick. Your words are lyrical, but your unwavering devotion- what could be amassed in the space of twenty-four hours- is as questionable to me, as the rest of your character is to you.’ Ryan’s face drew in and she stepped out of her arms, breaking the spell and moving to the cupboard, where she’d spied a second blanket folded. ‘You can sleep on the couch,’ she said softly, turning and putting the blanket in his arms, then resting the book on top of them. ‘I’m reading, so if you want to do the same, I’ll be awake for at least an hour yet to talk books. There’s a lamp beside the couch and cold water in the fridge. You’re welcome to have a shower, and I’m happy for you to stay the night, because I don’t want to upset Bruce any more by being caught trying to sneak you out.’ She began to move towards her own bed, reaching for her iPad. ‘But if you’re still hard up for a fuck, I suggest you get out of here before I call security myself, or go back to what’s her name’s room.’

Ryan made a rough noise. ‘That’s not why I’m here. You said friends only, so that’s all I’m here for; a friend.’ He continued to stand awkwardly in the centre of the room. ‘And I won’t stay the night if you’re under the impression that I’d force myself on you or cut you up into little pieces and store you in the mini-bar.’