“Business card.”
“I, uh…”
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll take care of it and get him your information, if that’s okay?”
“Of course it’s okay,” Lisa says from behind me. Her eyes are in shock, but she pulls it together and sticks out her hand. “I’m Lisa.”
“You killed it, too,” Ryan says. “But then again, we met the other night, and you already know I enjoy your work.”
She retracts her hand. “Right. Sorry. Autopilot.”
He clasps her in a one-armed hug, and she gives me a look over his shoulder as if she’s not sure what to do with it. I can’t help but laugh. The night is already one for the books.
It’s now that I realize I can never be just friends with Ryan.
Already, the tenderness in my heart is too much for a casual acquaintance. That scares me, but I remember my dad’s words—that it’s better to fall in love, no matter the cost—and I forget my worries. I let myself sink into the moment, and when Ryan plants a kiss on my lips, I let it happen. I kiss him back despite the hoots and hollers from the crowd, and when he pulls back, we can hardly breathe.
“Will you come out with us?” Ryan whispers in my ear. “I need you tonight—alone…after.”
He presses against me, and I can feel just how much he needs me. I let my finger brush against the front of his jeans. “That’s a lot of need.”
“Sweetheart, you don’t even know.”
I take his hand. “Do you guys have a place in mind that you want to go next? If not, there’s a great Mexican spot a few doors down.”
“Do they have beer?”
“And a mechanical bull.”
He nods his head and grins. “Lead the way.”
CHAPTER 26
Andi
If there’s life on Mars, I’m pretty sure the folks there can hear my screams.
The mechanical bull is way more vicious than I remember from my twenty-first birthday. Then again, I was younger, more flexible, and less sober than I am right now. I can barely hold on to this mother-bucker.
My jeans have slipped a little too low, and I’m sure my pink lace undies are peeking over the top. My tank is tight enough that I’m not flashing the entire population of the bar, and that’s a small miracle considering the amount of bouncing and jiggling going on.
However, when I’m finally thrown from the bull, it’s all worth it. There, waiting to help me up, is Ryan. His eyes twinkle as he extends a hand, pulls me to my feet, and squeezes me to his chest.
“You kicked Boxer’s ass,” he says. “Shit, if I’d known how good you were at riding bulls, I would’ve invited you to the farm a long time ago.”
“The farm?” I’m dizzy in my post-mechanical bull haze. “Oh, right. Minnesota. You know, I’ve never seen a farm.”
“Never seen a farm?” This is from Boxer. Danny Boxer is the biggest, meanest guy in the league, according to Lilia. He plays for Los Angeles. He’s also freaking hilarious. “You’ve never seen a farm?!”
I glance at Boxer’s arms, which are slathered in tattoos. He was the one with the missing tooth in the audience at my show, and there’s a scar above his eyebrow. I asked him if it was from hockey and he grunted. I don’t know what that means.
“Sorry,” I tell him. “I’m from the east side of Los Angeles. Can’t go more than a few blocks without seeing a 7-11. The most farming I’ve seen is the one time my brother tried to grow his own oregano.”
Boxer snorts. “Oregano, right. Teenage boy? Not oregano.”
I don’t know why I’ve never thought of it before, but Boxer has a point. My dad did throw that plant away mighty quick, but I was too young to understand. “I never realized! Do you think my brother was growing weed?”
“You’re cute,” Boxer says as Ryan tightens his grip on my arm. Then he shakes his head and repeats Never seen a farm several times before Ryan shushes him.
“Never have I ever,” Ryan says. “Let’s play.”
“Never have I what?” Boxer looks confused. He’s probably not the smartest bulb in the box. “I’ve seen a farm.”
Ryan is patient with him, almost adorably so. “Hold five fingers up,” he instructs Boxer. “We go around in a circle. Everyone says something they haven’t done, and if you’ve done it, you put a finger down. First one out of fingers has to take a drink.”
Once Ryan rounds up the gang—Boxer, me, Lawrence, Lilia, and a few other teammates—he points at me to start.
“Never have I ever seen a farm,” I say.
Everyone puts a finger down. “If I weren’t marrying him,” Lilia says, elbowing Lawrence, “I’d still have my finger. That damn Pierce farm.”
“Never have I ever delivered a pizza,” Ryan fires off next.
My finger goes down and I glare at him. “Not fair.”
“Two can play that game,” he says with a smirk. “You want to snipe me, I’ll get you back, sweetheart.”
“Never have I ever been engaged,” Tommy says. Tommy is another of Ryan’s teammates, and from what I can tell, he’s the team captain. He’s tall, handsome in a clean-cut sort of way, and the most responsible of the group at first impression—possibly because he’s the sober driver of the group. “Put ’em down, Lawrence and Lilia.”
They each put a finger down, which leaves them with only three left. I sneak a glance at Ryan and find he’s watching me. I leave my finger up, and so does he. The plot thickens.
“Fine, if we’re attacking people, then,” Lawrence says as he snaps his finger down, half joking, half annoyed. He’s probably had one too many beers, and we’ve started serving him water. “I guess it’s my turn.”
We wait patiently as he scans the group, his eyes circling past everyone, as if digging for dirt to use against one of us. On his first pass over the circle, he comes up empty. His eyes flick again to my face, and then to Ryan’s, and then back to mine. His eyes widen, and I know what’s happening before Lawrence opens his mouth.
Ryan does too, and he acts first. “Come on, man,” he starts. “Leave Andi out of—”
But Lawrence lets out a slurred sort of smile, a bit saggy at the corners of his lips, his eyes a little hazy. “Never have I ever fallen in love with my delivery girl.”
Everyone falls silent. Around us, the cheers of the bar crowd sound as yet another rider saddles up on the mechanical bull. All eyes at our table flick between Ryan and me. Why? I’m not quite sure. Obviously he’s not in love with me. We just met. I shouldn’t care that he leaves his finger up. I shouldn’t care at all.
Dammit, I care, I think as Ryan’s hand flexes. His finger twitches as if he’s going to put it down for sympathy to spare me the embarrassment. I decide I don’t want a pity finger, so I take action.
“Well, we all know my finger’s staying put,” I say with a polite smile at Lawrence. “My dad has some fantastic delivery girls, but I’m not into that sort of thing.”