Jill Shalvis: Roughing It With Ryan

How was he going to fit her in? Ryan had no idea, but suddenly, he knew without a doubt that he would.

“Ryan?”

Still shaken by that latest thought, he turned and faced Taylor, who came out of the building wearing some snazzy number that had every man within two square miles losing brain cells.

“I just dealt with the insurance agent,” she said, lifting a hand. “So bear with me, I’m feeling pissy.”

He nodded. “Join the club.”

She smiled, but her voice was pure culture. “Can I be frank with you?”

“Of course.”

“I know you think I’m a terrible person for allowing last night to happen.” She stopped him when he would have spoken. “Please, let me say this. The truth is, I couldn’t-can’t-afford this place. I inherited it, with no cash to fix it up. And despite appearances…” She lifted her arms out, indicating her own expensive attire. “I have no income, at least not for the foreseeable future.”

“This doesn’t bode well for me getting paid,” he said lightly.

“You’ll get paid. I think I’ve figured out how to get some quick cash, so let’s go ahead and trim back those other trees you were worried about as well, and I’ll have your money by the end of next week. I hope that’s okay, because-”

“It’s okay.” He managed a smile even though he was still flummoxed over the realization he intended to see Suzanne again, and soon.

“Are you sure?” Taylor asked.

Hell, half his clients didn’t pay him until he threatened legal action. The end of the week would be just fine. “Don’t worry, we’ll make you safe. In any case, the worst is certainly over.”

Taylor studied the building so desperately in need of renovation. Her worried frown didn’t fade. “Let’s hope so.”

SUZANNE DROVE HOME from the Café Meridian on autopilot, numb from shock. She was unemployed. How could that be? Lately, her life seemed to be a really bad comedy-only she wasn’t laughing.

Some of that numbness wore off as she parked in front of the building she’d promised not to move out of yet had no means to pay for.

Work removing the tree was underway, leaving the front yard of the building little more than a mountain of fallen branches and wood rounds. Men moved around, intense and concentrating. Not surprisingly, Suzanne’s eyes honed right in on one in particular. Ryan.

Even from a distance, he had an authoritative quality to him as he worked, talked, coaxed, gestured. There was just something in his movements that set him apart, made her stomach quiver with recognition-and more.

Still walking, still gesturing, he turned, vibrant and charismatic, and lost in the passion of his work.

Ryan.

He wore denim and cotton, same as everyone else, but he didn’t look like anyone else. His chest was broad, his arms well toned, his belly flat and corded. Muscles, muscles everywhere, she thought, a little dazed. And every one of those muscles was in defined relief as he moved in and around the fallen tree, calling out orders, picking up a saw, bending over a large branch himself.

The oak tree had been pulled off the building and lay across the front of the yard, looking almost harmless as the crew of men worked on it with chainsaws.

Harmless, ha! Given the gaping hole left in the wall-her wall-the loft apartment would be out of commission for a good while. Suzanne felt bad for Taylor, but it was hard to concentrate on that with her own life in the toilet.

And now that she was no longer numb-thank you lust hormones, and thank you Ryan, not -she vibrated with anger over what had just happened to her at work. Fingers shaking, she tore her gaze off Ryan’s body and went through her purse for her cell phone. She found a pen out of ink, her plain Chap Stick and a half-burned vanilla votive candle, but no cell phone. Dumping out the contents of her purse, she pushed aside her unpaid Visa bill and a letter from ex-fiancé number two, begging her to try again, and finally located the phone. She could only hope she had an operating battery.

She did, but there was no reception. Great, because heaven forbid anything go her way today. She got out of her car, not forgetting to grab the bag with the gallon of ice cream she’d helped herself to from the café.

But still no reception.

Eye on the digital readout, she kept moving. Every few feet she paused, waiting, her rarely indulged redheaded temper gaining speed the longer the phone refused to work.

She backed up, moved to the side, even stomped her foot, and finally her phone obediently beeped its working status. Punching in the number for her ex’s office, she sat on a round of wood and opened the bag with the ice cream. She’d thought ahead to grab a spoon as well, and had just taken her first mouth-watering bite of decadent double-fudge chocolate ice cream when Tim came on the line.

“Suzanne.” His voice was kind. His voice was always kind, which now that she thought about it, annoyed the hell out of her. Did he have any other feelings like anger or frustration?

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

What could he do for her? Die a horrible, painful death, for starters. “Tim, I thought you were okay with our break-up.”

“Well…I still miss you, you know that. I’ll always miss you.”

A load of dog poop, as she knew damn well from his sister that he had moved on from boinking the cleaning lady to boinking his secretary. “If that’s true, why did you-”

“Suzanne? Hello? You still there?”

“Yes! I’m here. Tim, you-”

“You’re breaking up. Hello? Hello? ”

Damn it, she could hear him loud and clear. She was going to break him up. Instead, she tucked the ice cream container under her arm, stood and backed through the yard a little further. There. “The reception is fine,” she said through her teeth. “So please, tell me why you’ve decided to wreck my entire life.”

“A little melodramatic, don’t you think?”

“What?” In the Carter fashion, she laughed in the face of emotion. Better they see you laugh than cry. “Melodramatic? No, I’m not being melodramatic. But I can give you melodramatic if you’d like.” She stopped to shove a huge bite of slightly melted ice cream into her mouth. She almost groaned with pleasure at the rich flavor, but dragged her mind back to the task at hand. “Why did you get me fired?”

“Oh, that. It was too painful for me to know you were working at my sister’s restaurant. I could never go there without being reminded of the emotional distance, the break-up…so I found someone else better suited for it, that’s all.”

“ What? You found a better chef than me? Who?”

“Someone who will love me the way I deserve.”

She winced. “Tim, what does that have to do with cooking?”

“It’s my new girlfriend. She’s thrilled, so thrilled she promised me all sorts of favors.”

“You- Argh! ” Forget calm. Calm was gone. Her redheaded temper overpowered all typical Carter family behavior. “You got me fired so you could get an assortment of sexual favors?”

“No, I got you fired so I could get an assortment of sexual favors you’d never perform for me. I never realized how much we didn’t connect sexually,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe you need a therapist, Suzanne.”

She tipped her head back, studied the bright blue sky and counted to ten. “I do not need a sexual therapist.”

“Suzanne, seriously. I’m worried about you. You really should get help.” He sounded sincerely concerned, which was totally at odds with his selfish manipulating that cost her a job. Boy, she’d really done a number on him. This post-Suzanne Tim was nothing like the sensitive, weeping Tim she’d first known.