fourteen

IT WAS HERE. Walton’s main event had finally arrived, and Vivian was more excited than if she had exclusive access to interview a newly elected president. This wasn’t an election, but she did have exclusive access as the only reporter on-site at the Walton Peach Bowl.

Unlike the annual and legit college football Peach Bowl game, this sporting event took challengers of all shapes and sizes and put them onto a giant tarp covered in water and soapsuds for a friendly, hilarious, and injury-waiting-to-happen game of kickball.

“I don’t know how you talked me into this, DeMarco.”

Vivian turned to find Ryan standing next to her. She snapped a picture. “Is that your war face?”

Ryan tapped his cheeks, which had been blackened with face paint. “Maceo and Noah said it makes me look cool. No?”

She wrinkled her nose, shaking her head. “Is cool the look you were going for?”

A group of teenage boys walked past, their clothes soaked and smeared with mud. One was holding a bag of ice on a swollen and purpling brow.

Ryan adjusted his sunglasses on his head. “Are you really going to make me do this?”

“A bet’s a bet, buddy.”

A bullhorn blew and Ryan gave her a look. The kind that said “Please don’t make me do this.”

“Good luck.” She smiled. “I’d watch out for that guy.” She tilted her head toward a hulk of a man wearing a Walton FD shirt. “I saw him lifting an ambulance to warm up.”

“Good grief.” Ryan shook his head. He turned and stepped close to her. “You’ll tell them won’t you?”

She swallowed, her eyes shifting to see if anyone was watching. “What? Who?” Her voice came out breathless.

“Frankie and my mom. You’ll tell them of my heroics on the field today?” Serious blue eyes stared into hers before humor crept into them. “Even after I’m gone?”

She pushed him back. “Get out there.”

He turned and jogged over to his team members, who were only identifiable by their green shirts. Already the players’ legs were slipping and sliding from beneath them. For some reason little kids and even lanky teenagers had the agility to keep upright, but within a few minutes the grown men of the Walton fire department, rescue, and sheriff’s department were struggling to stay upright—Ryan included. He tossed her a playful scowl.

“This is going to be fun.”

Vivian recognized the voice of the woman who had just walked up.

“You know this is the first sport he’s ever played? Spent all night asking Charlie for tips.” Vivian turned to Lane, whose long auburn hair was swept up into a ponytail. She wore a green tank top with white shorts.

“Ryan’s going to die out there, isn’t he?”

Lane smiled and it filled her whole face. “Nah, he’s got some meat on those bones now.”

This was weird. Vivian was standing next to the very woman whose reputation she could’ve destroyed a year ago and they were chatting like . . . friends?

“Noah can’t stop talking about the girl who’s going to make him and Maceo eat worm pie.”

“You know I’d never make them do that, right?”

“I know.” Lane laughed. “But he doesn’t know that and Charlie’s having fun with it.”

“Congratulations on your wedding.” Vivian fiddled with her camera strap. “I heard it was beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

Loud cheering erupted and Vivian lifted her camera in time to catch Charlie kicking a red rubber ball over the heads of the fire department’s team. His run toward first started out well, but as he rounded the base, his legs slid in the opposite direction of his body, sending him sprawling on the wet tarp to the delight of the crowd.

“Ooh, that’s gonna leave a mark.” Lane giggled.

Vivian tapped her camera. “I’ll make you a copy.”

Ryan was next. There was a strut to his step as he made his way to home plate that was more mocking of his courage than evidence of his actual ego. Vivian heard a woman call out his name from the stands and sighed when she saw Holly waving enthusiastically. Apparently, she had gotten the team green memo too based on her still outrageously bright outfit. He smiled up at her, and Holly’s face beamed like she’d won the Miss America crown.

A tinge of jealousy slithered inside Vivian’s chest. She positioned her camera in front of her face, hiding any revealing emotions. Ryan wasn’t hers. Sure, they’d grown a lot closer over the last couple of weeks while working on the case, but their relationship was professional. A professional relationship with an expiration date. Because, like it or not, Vivian’s job at the Gazette was coming to an end and she needed to figure out where that left her.

As many hours as she and Ryan had put into the case, they weren’t any closer to finding Lauren or the identity of the person who blackmailed and possibly killed Harold, which meant she didn’t have the story she needed to prove to Shep or his father she was the journalist Harold had believed her to be. Truthfully, her aspiration for that position was waning with every extra second she spent with Ryan, and that scared her.

“Run, Ryan!”

Lane’s scream shook Vivian out of her introspection. Through the lens of her camera she watched Ryan run to first base and almost eat it like Charlie did, but he was able to regain his balance enough to make it to second base.

“I think you should consider dating him.”

“What?” Vivian’s expression must’ve matched the shock in her voice because Lane laughed.

“I’m not asking you to marry him, though I could see the two of you together.”

What is happening? “Uh, I don’t think we’re a good match.” Vivian’s eyes landed on Holly. “I’m sure there’s a better choice.”

Lane turned to the stands. “Who? Holly Newman?” Lane laughed. “She’d have to get through Frannie first.”

“They’re perfect for each other. She lives here and he wants to stay here. She’s the epitome of all things Southern and he’s a gentleman.”

“You left out boring and the fact that he won’t shut up about you.”

That should’ve thrilled Vivian, but it only worried her. “I’m leaving,” she blurted out.

“So?” Lane waved Vivian closer to the action and into the shade of a big oak tree. “Ryan’s getting close to making a decision about whether he’s going to leave Walton. Maybe you two end up in the same city.” She shrugged. “You never know.”

A tickle of excitement blossomed in Vivian’s chest at Lane’s suggestion, but then she shut it down. “I don’t think Ryan’s going to leave Walton.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love Ryan and don’t want him to leave, but I think he’s scared of chasing after a dream he doesn’t feel worthy of.”

“Agencies are literally fighting for him. I’d say the dream is just waiting for him to accept.”

Lane took hold of Vivian’s hand and pulled the camera away from her face. “You’re not hearing me. The chase isn’t after the job—it’s you.”

If it were possible, Vivian could have sworn she felt the earth beneath her feet shift. Ryan felt unworthy to chase after her? She turned her gaze back on the game until her eyes found him. Funny, kind, humble, and he considered her the dream? How could Lane be so sure?

“Oh, Charlie made it back home. I’d better get over there and make sure he’s okay.” Lane picked her bag up from the grass. “I hope to see you at the next trivia night.”

Vivian searched Lane’s soft features. The shy woman who’d experienced deep trenches of pain and sadness didn’t joke, which meant her invitation was genuine.

“I know what it cost you not to print my story.” Empathy emanated from her green eyes. “Truthfully, you still intimidate me a little, but I know we’ve all got our stories—no pun intended.” She winked. “And I would really like the opportunity to become your friend.”

There were no words. Vivian was still feeling unsteady from Lane’s earlier comment about Ryan—and now this? It was more than she could handle. The many emotions flooding her system made her afraid speaking might pop this bubble of a dream.

“Look out!”

Vivian’s attention whirled around in time to see a human wall of muscle, fear in his blue eyes, hurtling toward her. Lane jumped back, but Vivian wasn’t quick enough. Ryan’s body slammed into her, sending them both somersaulting into the air. She felt his arms wrap protectively around her a second before they hit the ground.

“Vivi, you dead?”

She wiped the soapy water from her face. “Did you just call me Vivi?”

Ryan rolled so he was facing her. “You took that hit like a champ.”

Beneath the war paint and suds, there was a blush coloring his cheeks. He was avoiding her question, but she didn’t really need an answer—it was there in his eyes. Her hands moved to his face, gently wiping away the stray pieces of grass, her finger lingering on his lower lip.

Kissable.

Their eyes met, and before she could give herself a million reasons why this was a bad idea, she pulled him toward her, closer and closer until finally, finally their lips met.

Thank goodness he was already knocked flat on the ground. Ryan’s arms wound around Vivian’s back, pulling her closer as their kiss deepened and they shut out the rest of the world—until someone cleared their throat loudly.

Ryan groaned as Vivian pulled back. No regret in her eyes. She’d meant to kiss him. His lips pulled into a smile. “That was awesome.”

Vivian couldn’t help smiling. She wriggled her arm out from underneath him. “How long before the whole town finds out about this?”

“I’d say they’re already planning the wedding.” Charlie reached for Vivian’s hand to help her up. “I’d complain that Frost lost us the game, but I’m not sure he cares.”

“Not even a little bit.” Ryan grinned as his buddy helped him up. His gaze slipped to Vivian, their eyes locking. Neither of them were able to keep the smile from their lips. Her lips . . . man, he wanted them back on his. And soon. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good.”

He was grinning like a fool and he knew it, but he didn’t care.

“I think you owe her dinner or something, Ryan,” Lane suggested, eyeing Charlie.

“Oh yeah. It’s the least you can do since you almost killed her.”

The smile melted from his face. A concussion. Maybe he’d hit her so hard she didn’t know what she was doing when she kissed him.

Vivian smirked. “My house, six o’clock. Bring dessert, and it better not be a cobbler.”

“I really think you’re going to like him, Ryan.” His mom had called to ask how the games went and to once again invite him over to officially meet Dr. Murphy. Ryan had finally caved, and it was most likely due to the woman he was getting ready to meet for dinner. That kiss, that kiss—his mom could ask him anything right now and he’d do it without a second thought.

“Would it be okay if I bring someone?”

Seconds of silence passed. “You want to bring someone? Is it a girl? Frannie said something about a girl—”

“Yes, mom.” Ryan cut in, pausing in front of his bathroom mirror to run a hand through his hair, which was still wet from the shower. His body was sore and a few bruises were beginning to rise to the surface of his skin. He checked his watch. He was going to be late if he didn’t leave soon. “Mom, I gotta run, but I’ll call you later to find out what I can bring.”

“Okay. Don’t worry about the food, I’ll have plenty. Just bring yourself and your friend.”

Ryan couldn’t end the call fast enough. His drive to Vivian’s was interrupted by a quick stop at the Way Station Café where Lane had a warm batch of chocolate chip cookies waiting. He would’ve kissed her if Charlie hadn’t given him the stare of death. It was fine. Ryan really wanted to kiss just one person tonight and she was standing at her door watching him walk up now.

He held out the box. “Not a cobbler. Chocolate chip cookies from Lane.”

“Excellent choice.” A smile filled her face as she took the box from him. “Do you like pizza?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“You’d be surprised.” She stepped back and let him in, setting the cookies on a small table. Her long hair was pulled up in a bun, with a few loose strands framing her face. “I was going to order Greek food, but I wasn’t sure if you’d like that and there’s only one place in Savannah, but they don’t deliver, so I made cheese with sausage and spinach pizza. Is that okay?”

She sounded nervous, and Ryan couldn’t explain why seeing her off her game made her even more attractive. He didn’t care what they ate or where they ate as long as he was with her. “Pizza sounds great, but if you really want Greek, we can go get it.”

“No, it’s fine.” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Look, about today, if that was awkward—”

“Was it awkward for you?” Ryan paused. Had he misread her intentions? Or maybe she had changed her mind.

“No. Unexpected but definitely not awkward.”

“I thought it was nice. Really nice.”

She smiled and took a small step toward him. He brushed his knuckles along her jaw and saw expectation fill her eyes. He reached for her hands and moved them around his waist and she obliged, pressing closer to him.

“I’m going to kiss you, Vivi.”

She nodded, her lips parting.

He leaned down and breathed in the scent of her shampoo, floral and feminine. It drew his lips to her temple and then her cheeks. She inhaled sharply, her fingers clutching his shirt. He kissed a trail along her jaw until he could no longer take it and had to have her lips on his.

The kiss was deep and filling and just as ground-shaking as the one in the park. They moved against the wall, his body coupling with hers as though they were made for each other. She kissed him deeper and he was certain he’d never be the same again.

When she pulled back, she gave him a shy smile. “We should eat.”

He didn’t want to stop kissing her, but he also didn’t want to rush whatever this was. “So, Greek, huh?”

Vivian grabbed the cookies and carried them into the kitchen. “Have you ever had it?”

Ryan shook his head. “Can’t say that I have.”

“There’s a really great place in northern Virginia called Angie’s. It’s a hole-in-the-wall type owned by a couple who moved from Greece. It’s the next best thing to actually eating there.”

Ryan remembered the photos taped to the wall behind Vivian’s desk. “Have you been to Greece?”

Vivian picked up a stack of paper plates and napkins. “No. One day, maybe.” She pointed at the fridge. “I’ve got water, some cans of Diet Coke Pecca left behind, and before you even ask, no sweet tea.”

“What’s with you and sweet tea?”

Vivian speared him with a look. “It’s liquid calories.”

“And cookies are?”

“Worthy of the calories.”

Ryan laughed. “I’ll take water and don’t let Ms. Byrdie hear you speak that way about the official beverage of Georgia.”

“Oh, she has. Won’t let me leave—” Her eyes met his, the unspoken reality of her words crashing into their night like an unwanted guest. “Without her recipe.”

“Should we talk about that?”

Vivian grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge before moving to the couch. A pizza was already waiting on the coffee table. Ryan followed. “Actually, I’d prefer to talk about why you’re still here in Walton.”

“What do you mean?” he asked as he grabbed a slice of pizza.

“Come on, Ryan. What’s really keeping you from accepting a position with the FBI or CIA or whoever else is trying to hire your genius brain?” She passed him a plate. “Is it because of Frannie and your mom? Are you afraid of leaving them?”

Leave it to a reporter to get right to the hard questions. Ryan finished chewing his bite of pizza and wiped his lips. “My dad walked out on us when I was twelve. He was chasing a dream because his life here didn’t satisfy him enough to stick around. If I’m afraid of anything, it’s following in his footsteps.”

“But you’d have your family’s support, right?”

“I do, but would God really call me away from them?”

Vivian frowned. “I don’t know about God, but you can’t let what your father did stop you from doing what you’re good at.” Her voice grew tender. “You’re a protector. I see it in the way you look after Frannie and the way you’ve—” She tipped her chin. “I would hate to see you hold yourself back.”

“What if it doesn’t work out?” He hadn’t voiced his fear out loud before and he worried that Vivian would think it was silly. “What if that dream isn’t what I thought it was?”

“What if it’s everything you wanted and more?”

Ryan tilted his head, taking in the amazing woman in front of him. “There’s a position in DC with the FBI Cyber Crimes Division . . . maybe you could show me that Greek restaurant.”

Vivian set her plate aside and snuggled into Ryan’s side. She traced her fingers over his until finally lacing them together. Her charcoal-blue gaze found his. “I think I could do that.”

Ryan kissed the top of Vivian’s head, his mind playing a dozen scenarios of what his future might look like if he did as she suggested. A stack of envelopes with job offers that could take him all over the country and world was just sitting in his desk waiting for him to make a decision. It should be easy, but it wasn’t. Because now the one hesitation Ryan couldn’t ignore was whether any of those choices included Vivian at his side.