Chapter 32

Her hands were in his hair, his were on her ass. She had him pinned against the siding of the house, her lithe body almost climbing his. Her thick jacket prevented him from getting as close as he wanted but it didn’t stop him from trying. The smell of her shampoo was lodged in his senses. Even with his mouth fused to hers, he felt like he couldn’t get enough. He said her name as he nuzzled into her ear, nipping the tender lobe gently and reveling in her gasp. Wanting to hear it again and again. His mouth moved back to hers and he took what he’d missed all day. Tried to satiate himself with Frankie. He worried, in the far reaches of his mind that he’d never get enough. Jesus, how had she hooked him this hard? But as her hands came to his face, when she pulled back and looked at him like she did, he knew. She’d hooked him by being exactly who and what she was. She was Frankie. And she was his.

“We should probably go in,” she said, her eyes still hazy.

Ryan kissed her again. “How was the interview?”

She looked down and bit her lip, and he tipped her chin up with his hand.

“They want to interview you. Because we’re involved.”

“Okay. I figured. I was reading up on the process so I expected that.” The relief on her face made him wonder if she doubted their connection. He didn’t want her to. He wanted her to feel sure about them. She made him feel sure of himself. He’d opened up more of himself to Frankie than he had to anyone. He needed her to believe in him, in them.

“You don’t mind?”

“Frankie, I want them here too. I want you and I want them. We’ll figure out the rest as we go along,” he said, kissing her again. He pulled back before he could fall too far into her and they went into the house. It had been a long day but he was riding high on having his brother and Daniel at his house.

“Sorry about Chloe. She showed up right when the social worker did,” Frankie said as they walked toward the laughter coming from the living room.

“No need to be sorry. In fact, I think Dan might kiss your feet,” Ryan said, his hand on her lower back.

His friend had been more than a little enamored with Ryan’s unexpected houseguest. When they came into the living room, he was topping off Chloe’s wine while Max flipped through channels. Glancing over, he saw Max’s subtle eyebrow lift right before he stood to meet Frankie. It had only been a couple months since he’d seen Max but it felt good to have him there. Ryan wouldn’t say it out loud, but he missed him. And Daniel. Fuck. Maybe he was a sappy guy. Maybe not playing ball had depleted his testosterone levels. His mind flashed to the night before: Frankie over him, under him. Surrounding him. Nah. He had plenty of testosterone.

Max skipped the handshake and went straight for a hug. “Well hey there.”

“Oh. Hi.” Frankie’s voice faltered but she patted Max’s back and leaned into the hug.

“Smooth, Max.” Ryan shook his head as his brother pulled away, grinning affably.

“I figure a handshake is too formal for the woman who managed to chip away that stone heart of yours and find a real one underneath,” Max replied. Ryan glared at him but the others laughed, including Frankie.

“I’m Daniel,” Dan said, holding his hand out to shake Frankie’s.

“It’s nice to meet you both. And obviously you’ve met Chloe,” Frankie said and the women hugged, even though they’d already seen each other, making Ryan grin. Chloe towered over Frankie and though he considered her strong and unstoppable, her best friend made her appear tiny, almost fragile. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t find all that strength wrapped up in a small, gorgeous package a turn on. Everything about her turned him on. Turned him sideways and upside down.

“How did it go?” Chloe asked. The women sat, still hanging onto each other’s hands. Ryan frowned, wanting Frankie next to him, or even better, on his lap. When he looked at Dan and saw he was also frowning, Ryan laughed.

“Who wants a beer?” Ryan asked, letting Frankie and Chloe catch up. Walking to the kitchen, it struck Ryan that for the first time in longer than he could remember, he felt at peace. Not pulled in too many directions. Not trying to please people that couldn’t be pleased. He wasn’t a persona or a marketing tool. He was just…himself. And he realized, that wasn’t so bad. At least, not at the moment.

Frankie was on her side in his bed when he came out of the shower. He’d tried to coax her into the shower with him, but she’d taken Chloe back to her own house to get settled. Ryan couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a relaxed, carefree evening hanging out with people that he cared about, that he knew wanted nothing from him other than friendship. As he crawled into the bed, moved toward her, and pulled her back against his front, she whispered hello softly.

“You okay?” His hand settled on her stomach and he breathed in the scent of her, the scent that would stay in his bed after she’d left it. He didn’t want her to leave it. It was frightening to want her so badly, to the point of need. And where the hell did that leave him if things didn’t work out? He couldn’t think like that. He ran his hand under her tank top, against the smooth softness of her skin.

“I’m good. Your brother and Daniel are great. I need to get them alone so I can hear the rest of some of those stories,” she said, her voice sleepy and teasing. He’d cut off both Max and Daniel in the middle of several stories they’d been bursting to share. Traitors. Though, he’d shared plenty when Max had brought Shay home.

“You don’t need their version of things.” He kissed her neck, moving her hair aside and burying his nose there, making her shiver.

“Afraid I’ll learn too much?”

“Hell yes.”

She laughed, rolled onto her back, and looked up at him. He could see her eyes thanks to the moonlight coming in. He wasn’t sure about the biting cold of Minnesota but he loved the sky, the mountains, and the way you could see the stars and the moon on a clear night. He liked the air and the silence and the space. He put his hand on her cheek and rubbed his thumb over her soft skin. And he liked Frankie. God, he liked Frankie.

Her voice was somber when she spoke. “She asked me everything. How I make money, why I want the boys, why I didn’t call the police, why I’d choose a place like this over Southampton.”

“You don’t talk much about why you left there,” he said. He let his fingers trail over her skin.

She shrugged. “I got tired of pretending.”

“Pretending what?”

She stared at the ceiling. “I told you my dad is in real estate. It can be pretty lucrative, especially in certain areas of New York. He made a fortune on the first few deals he did in The Hamptons. My brother and I were young when we moved there from Fairfield. Those first big deals set us up so we looked like all of the other families. But after a while, the market dipped and my dad just wasn’t making any sales. I was about twelve when he started letting some of his staff go. Old enough to know something is going on but too young to care, you know?”

Ryan nodded because he did know. Her eyes had stopped smiling, but he stayed quiet so she would finish.

“My mom kept having parties and planning vacations with friends. And my dad worked longer hours. We barely saw him. They fought all the time. That’s actually the reason Dean and I came to stay with Aunt Beth. They needed time to sort through things and decide what to do. If we’d move or if they’d even stay together.”

She rolled onto her side and rested her head on the pillow. Ryan did the same. At that age, he would have been thrilled if his parents had split. He would have celebrated. But he could see how not all kids would feel that way. How it would be scary to be sent away, not knowing what your life would be like when you came home.

“Being here, with Aunt Beth was…wonderful. I honestly thought I would hate it. The house wasn’t so run down then,” she said, giving him a playful smile that almost reached her eyes. “But it felt like a home. We ate dinner in the living room while we watched TV. We tracked dirt into the house by accident and didn’t get in trouble. Aunt Beth planned scavenger hunts and hikes and late night picnics for us. She was up for anything. I mean, she wasn’t an effusive person but she was willing to do what she wanted and didn’t answer to anyone. I loved the thrill of trying new things. She took us to a lake a few miles from here. We should go there. We should take the boys. I can’t remember the name. We hiked for a while and when we got to a cliff, Dean asked her how we were going to get to the lake if we were heading up. We jumped. It was insane, but wonderful. I screamed the whole way down and afterward, I couldn’t believe I’d done that. It was amazing.”

Tears welled in the corner of her eyes and Ryan used his thumb to wipe them away. He kissed her nose. She gave a watery laugh.

Resting his hand on her hip, he asked, “What happened when you went home?”

“It was like nothing had happened only worse. My parents said we were staying. Said there was nothing to worry about. All the parties and the charities and my dad’s long hours continued. They were completely civil, loving to each other when they thought it suited. We didn’t talk about anything negative. Even now, my mom is so desperate to maintain the image that they belong there. It’s part of who she is now, that identity. High society. Power lunches and Prada purses. I knew I was tired of it when I left, but I didn’t realize how much I’d enjoy not pretending every day. I’ve got less money, three mouths to feed, a house that needs something new every time I turn around and I still feel happier than I ever have.”

Ryan grinned. “Plus a boyfriend that makes you insanely happy and is almost too hot for words.”

Frankie laughed and bit her bottom lip. God, he loved putting that smile on her face.

She nodded, released her lip. “That is definitely a huge part of why I’m happy.”

She gave a weary sigh then, like telling the story had worn her out. He yanked her closer, sliding his hand around and down her thigh.

She kissed the underside of his jaw and it made him shiver. No woman had every made him feel so weak and so powerful at the same time.

“I wish I’d seen you play baseball,” she said into the quiet.

He didn’t mind the change of topic. He wanted to be right here, right now. Not remembering the shit that had brought them here. “I have tapes. We can watch them sometime. After you learn the basics,” he said. He leaned in to kiss her, planning on doing more than just kissing her but she gave him a quick peck and leaned away with a wide smile.

“Quiz me.” She practically bounced into a sitting position, her hair falling around her shoulders and her tank top barely covering her. His eyes wandered over her skin. His hands wanted to follow.

“What?” He laughed, amused and distracted by the sight of her. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of looking at her. He ran his hand along her bare thigh.

“Stop it. Pay attention. Quiz me. I’ve been studying up,” she said, laughing as she tried to stop his hand. His fingers flexed against her thigh and she laughed again.

“You’re serious?” He wasn’t sure why the thought of her doing just that made his chest tighten.

“The distance between the pitching mound and home plate is just over sixty feet,” she said. He sat up beside her and flicked on the lamp, his face splitting in a grin.

“Home base but yes. Sixty feet, six inches.”

“Ask me something else.”

“How many players on the field?”

She smirked at him and waved a hand dismissively. “Nine.”

He arched an eyebrow and angled his body toward her so he could still touch her. “What does the third base coach do?”

She closed her eyes, like she was going through a file, trying to locate the information. “Gives signals to the batter.” She gave a little shoulder shake, a sitting victory dance, and he laughed right from his belly. Which felt really fucking good.

“Yes he does. We should barter for this,” he suggested, enjoying himself immensely.

“What do you mean?” She eyed him warily, making him laugh.

He tugged on a lock of her hair playfully. “You answer correctly, you get something. If you’re wrong, I get something.”

“Ha! No way. If I answer correctly, you get a girlfriend that actually knows about baseball and if I’m wrong, you tell me the answer,” she countered. She leaned in to kiss him and he held her there by keeping his fingers hooked on the neckline of her tank top.

He gave her a noisy kiss. “Spoilsport.”

“Your slugging percentage is .632. Just slightly less than Sammy Sosa’s,” she said.

He leaned back, his eyes wide. “You memorized my stats?” His heart pounded too hard to stay in his chest. There was no way he could contain the pleasure that swamped him.

“Not all of them, obviously. And to be fair, I have absolutely no idea what that even means.”

“It means…never mind. It’s too long to explain. I can’t believe you memorized my stats. Okay, tell me one more fact.”

She pursed her lips and he took her hand while he waited, willing his heart to settle the hell down. It wouldn’t. It battered against his rib cage like it wanted to jump out into Frankie’s lap.

“The longest game ever was when Chicago beat Milwaukee in 1984.”

He shook his head. “Yeah. It was. Twenty-five innings. You’re amazing,” he said, his throat tight.

She swung her leg over his lap and cupped his face in a gesture that he was coming to love. Love. The desire to say it, to tell her, overwhelmed him. The words tumbled around in his chest, making it hard to breathe. God. What did he know about love? He’d made a fucking mess the last time he thought he’d loved a woman. Though, what he felt for Victoria, even at the height of their relationship, had never been like this. It had never been everything.

“I am pretty awesome,” she agreed, kissing him, playfully letting her lips touch his and then retreating. His hands went to her hips and the scrap of cloth there. His fingers squeezed and his body tightened.

He hoped she wouldn’t notice that his voice wasn’t steady. “No argument here.”

She ran her lips over his neck and he felt that quicksand sensation again only, this time, she felt like the anchor. The one to pull him out. The one to save him. He leaned back and ran his hands over her hair so he could see more of her face.

“You make me want more. Things I thought I was done wanting,” he told her. She leaned her forehead against his, making it difficult to focus.

“I’m afraid to want too much,” she whispered. He ran his hands down her arms and then back up, and tried to keep his voice even.

“Don’t be afraid. Whatever you want. I’ll give you anything.” And he knew he would. Her cheek rested against his and she wrapped her arms around his neck. His stomach twisted with the words he’d said. He tasted some of that fear she spoke of, but it was pushed back by the ways she’d brought his heart back to life. Brought him back.

“You. I just want you.”

And because he believed her, because for the first time he actually felt like he was enough, he closed his mouth over hers and, in his head, he whispered promises he never thought he’d want to make again. Promises of forever and the future and all the things he hadn’t thought were possible. Things he wasn’t ready to say out loud but could no longer deny feeling.