“My brother know you’re here?” he asks. I’m close enough now that I can see the slight smirk on his lips.
“I’m not here for Ian.” I wipe the sweat pooling at my brow and straighten my back. He makes no move to stop me as I turn onto the long driveway and begin my walk to the house. “Is Ruby home?”
“You’re here for Ma?” He chuckles and catches up with me, then slows us down to a leisurely pace.
“Yeah,” I say. If I’ve learned anything from my time with Ian, it’s that these guys value directness.
“Wow. Tattling on the boyfriend to his mommy, huh? That’s cold, lady.” He’s nearly grinning at his own humor now. His casual suggestion that Ian’s my boyfriend nearly makes me blush. Fighting off the embarrassment makes me feel even more juvenile than I already do.
“Someone sounds like he’s afraid of his mommy.”
“Damn straight. The woman’s fucking insane,” he says with a scoff. I can’t help but laugh at that. Holly’s told me a few things about Ryan—mostly things she’s heard from club members in passing. Ryan is supposedly this grouchy, badass who likes to torment people. Holly says that the little bit she’s heard about him from when Grady thinks she’s not listening to his conversations with his brothers is that the only time they’ve ever seen Ryan vulnerable is when Alex was missing and then hurt. Until he met Alex, they all had pretty much given up on him ever opening himself up to a woman. Maybe love really has softened him up.
“So, tell me what he did,” he prods.
“Why do you assume Ian’s done something wrong?”
“Nobody runs like that if they’re not pissed.”
“I’m pissed, all right,” I say. I don’t intend to be that honest with him, but it just flies out, and now I’m left to deal with the consequences. We’re only halfway to the house, and with how surprisingly chatty he’s being, I have no doubt I’ll be singing like a canary by the time we get there. Best defense is a good offense. “I’m pissed because I threw away four years of sobriety on a revenge plan that didn’t pan out. I’m pissed because I have nothing better to do all day than to wallow in my own sorrows. I’m pissed because everybody’s moving on with their lives and I’m not, and now I’m pissed because you’re supposed to be the strong, silent type and you’re anything but silent.”
“Damn, you are pissed,” he says. He’s still finding humor in our conversation that I don’t see.
My face is heating for a whole different reason now. I pick up my pace and force him to catch up. Not that I want him catching up. I’d be perfectly happy if he were to stay where he is. I don’t want to ask Ruby for a favor when I’m in a bad mood, and all Ryan’s doing is antagonizing me.
“What in the hell is so funny?” I snap.
“You got this vein,” he says and gestures to my neck. “It’s popping out.”
“How is it possible that nobody has smothered you yet?”
We’re close to the house now. So fucking close to the house and to me losing my shit. I can’t figure out what’s pissing me off more—the fact that Ian isn’t my boyfriend and Ryan’s casual comment just throws that in my face, or if it’s my fried nerves at over explaining myself to him.
“I’m too charming to smother,” he says with a shrug. “But you’re not. Good thing you got yourself hooked up with my brother, or I might take your attitude personally.”
“I am not hooked up with Ian!” I turn and end up yelling the words. And once I start, I find it impossible to stop. “He’s not my boyfriend. I haven’t even seen him in a couple of weeks.”
“But you want to,” he says. Ryan doesn’t even so much as shrug his shoulders or raise a brow. He looks totally calm and in control. I know better than to think his relaxed appearance means he can’t or won’t snap at any minute.
Instead of responding, I fold my arms over my chest and huff. It’s the most mature thing I can manage to do at this point. Why in the hell is he even talking to me, anyway?
“Good,” he says with a nod and strides toward the house. Now I’m the one working to keep up with him, utterly confused by the sudden turn and annoyed at myself for even caring for an explanation.
“I didn’t even say anything.”
“Didn’t have to.” He stops at the deck, just feet from the front door. I have to back up a step to keep from literally stepping on his toes. “You get away with a lot with me because of shit you don’t even understand. I’ll tolerate whatever crap you want to throw my way as long as you remember your place with the club and with my brother.”