Tracy Madison - From Good Guy To Groom

The woman he had no doubt still existed.

Damn. He yearned to know her, then and now. Since he couldn’t slip into the past to introduce himself to an earlier version of Andi, he had to let that one go. Easy enough. Mostly, he just felt damn fortunate to have met her at all, to have her in his world today.

Whatever that might mean in the short term or the long term.

“Ryan!” Brenda said, meeting him at the bottom of the front porch steps and instantly wrapping him in a tight hug that smelled like herbs and spices, with a little something sweet tossed in. Meaning, she’d just left the kitchen. “I’m so glad to see you, honey.”

He squeezed her back and kissed the top of her head before releasing her. “Glad to see you, as always. Though, it’s only been a week,” he teased. “You can’t have missed me too much.”

“Always miss my kids when they’re not here, but I’m fortunate that you’re close by. I just hope...” She trailed off and shrugged. “I look forward to our Sundays.”

“I miss seeing Nicole, too,” Ryan said, aware of the bond his mother and sister shared. “She’s waiting on the right job opening. It will happen eventually. Gotta have faith, Mom.”

“Of course I have faith! It’s more about her being there by herself. I worry, but that’s what parents do.” She smiled again just as brightly. “Someday, you’ll understand that the want to shield your children from pain never goes away. Doesn’t matter how old you get, either.”

“I don’t have to wait for someday, I understand that now.”

Reaching up, she patted his cheek. “You understand the concept, not the reality. Until you have a child, it is impossible to fully grasp.”

Ah. Recognizing how easily this could lead them into the “I want grandbabies” conversation they’d had more than once over the past year, Ryan switched topics by asking, “Where is Dad, by the way? In the kitchen, sneaking bites of whatever you made for dessert?”

“Nope. He knows better.” Laughing, Brenda started toward the front door. “He’s out back, once again trying to perfect one of his golf swings before Wednesday’s game. Don’t ask me which swing, because I don’t know. But he says that once he does, he’ll be unbeatable.”

Golf. His dad’s fourth, sometimes fifth—depending on how active his sweet tooth was at any given moment—reason for living, after his wife and kids.

“I’m not sure what he thinks he’s going to perfect. He already plays a damn solid game.” Not a surprise, though, when Jerry’s focus, determination and stubbornness were taken into account. If his dad thought he could do better, he wouldn’t stop until he’d achieved that goal. “Honestly, Mom, I don’t know why you don’t play. I think you’d be really good.”

“I might be,” she agreed, leading him into the wood-floored entryway, “but your dad needs something of his own. This is it. Playing golf with his buddies. We share plenty of other hobbies, and I have more than enough on my own. I certainly don’t need to add another.”

That was one of the many reasons his parents got along so damn well. They understood each other’s needs. Ryan could only hope he found the same someday. A companion. Someone who understood him and whom he understood. A friend. A partner. A lover. A confidante. A woman who challenged him to always be the best he could.

Andrea Caputo? Possibly. But...probably not. That did not stop Ryan from wishing that they’d already established a friendship. If they had, he might give in to the sudden instinct to call her, invite her here for dinner. But they’d barely broken ground. Doing so would cause her to question his motives, might even jeopardize any forward momentum.

Perhaps next month, when Nicole visited, they’d have a stronger base and he could invite her to his mother’s birthday. Perhaps.

For the moment, he’d enjoy the afternoon with his parents, the meal—lasagna and tomato bread, he’d wager, based on the scents emanating from the kitchen—and relax. Tomorrow, the next day and every day following would take care of itself. One way or another.

That was a lesson he had learned.

And tomorrow already held the promise of being an excellent day, simply due to the fact that he would see Andi again. Maybe he’d even find another way to make her laugh.

* * *

Thick, fat clouds stretched across a sky that was more gray than blue, promising rain at some point in the next several hours. There might even be a thunderstorm, complete with lightning. Andi hoped not. The loud cracks of thunder would send her adrenaline pumping and her heart racing. A lovely, light downpour, however, might just help her take a long afternoon nap, something she was in dire need of.

In the past few weeks, she hadn’t beaten her three-hour record of continuous sleep, and last night, she hadn’t managed even that. This needed to change soon, because she knew that without the proper amount of rest, everything she had come to Steamboat Springs to accomplish wouldn’t occur. So, yes, the sound of rain drumming against her bedroom windows—minus the ricocheting bursts of thunder from an actual storm—might have a soothing effect, which might lead into a long, delicious, nightmare-free nap.

Carefully stretching out her legs in front of her, she closed her eyes and tried to ignore the wash of weakness that had overtaken her. Oh, today’s session with Ryan hadn’t been any worse than last week’s, but maybe she’d pushed herself too hard. Or maybe not hard enough. Who knew? For the moment, though, for whatever reason, she was in pain.

Her aunt had texted her, letting her know that she was running late. Paul and Margaret owned a restaurant, Foster’s Pub and Grill, as well as a sporting goods shop here in town, where all of Andi’s cousins were also part owners and worked. There was a meeting this morning that had apparently gone longer than expected. Margaret had promised in her text that she’d get there as soon as she could, but figured she’d be at least another hour.

And that was fine. Andi understood. If she’d felt comfortable enough driving herself, she’d already be back at the house, sequestered in her bedroom. Hoping for rain. Hoping for sleep. Hoping for...amnesia, really.

Or a round of immense good luck, that would propel her out of this stuck place. Close to three weeks since arriving in Steamboat Springs and nothing had really changed.

“Andi? You okay?” Ryan’s voice, deep and reassuring, came through the fog. She forced her eyes open and saw him standing in front of her with an expression of concern. “I didn’t expect to see you out here still. Your aunt is usually waiting when we’re done.”

“She’s running late, is all, by an hour or so. But I’m fine and she’s fine. Nothing here for you to worry about.”

“Good.” Glancing at his watch, he smiled that smile. The one that brought the butterflies to life. “I’m free for another forty-five minutes, was about to take a short walk, stretch the legs a little before my next client. Feel like joining me? We don’t even have to talk. Promise.”

Lord. She wanted to say yes. Desperately so, even. Which was why she ignored that want and said, “Thank you, but no. Think I’ll just sit here and wait for my aunt. Have fun, though, and if you see a four-leaf clover, save it for me.”

“What do you need a four-leaf clover for? Seems you have plenty of luck on your side,” he said, sitting next to her instead of taking his damn walk. Lovely. Now she could smell him—a strangely intoxicating mix of soap and shampoo and something else, something a tad spicy she couldn’t identify—and their thighs were touching. “You seem tired, Andi. Did I work you too hard? Or still having problems sleeping?”