“Ask questions later,” I say. “Hop inside.”
She lets out a flustered laugh, one I take to mean she’s amused at the narrow escape from the parking lot attendant. We pull away from the curb just as the man scratches his stomach, looks toward our car, then to the doors of the airport, and then back again. He waves a hand and continues his stroll.
“You weren’t supposed to park there!” She faces me, her face flushed. “You could’ve waited outside for me so you didn’t risk a ticket. What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t.” I take my eyes off the wheel for a split second to look into hers, hopefully conveying some of my excitement about seeing her again. “You texted me that you landed and you were running early, so I ditched the car to meet you at the gate.”
Her eyes blink once, and then she turns to stare out the window. “You didn’t have to do that.”
I reach over and rest a hand on her leg. I’m determined to make sure this weekend isn’t weird in any way, even if she’s decided she doesn’t want anything physical. Maybe she’s met someone, or maybe she’s decided this is a horrible idea. Regardless, I’ve already decided to make sure she has a good time in my home state.
“So, how’ve you been?” I ask, struggling to keep my voice even.
“Since we talked last night?” She gives me a mischievous smile, and we’re back. The awkwardness is gone, the tension dispelled, and we’re the two people who have become inexplicably intertwined over a pizza. “Good, except for a creep on the plane who tried to stare down my shirt. Oh, and Lisa says hi.”
“Hello to Lisa,” I say, trying not to show my annoyance about the creep. “If you got a name, I’m happy to pay him a visit.”
“Relax!” she says on a laugh. “He was eighty years old.”
I’m grumbling about it, but I back off. Might as well save the frustration for the rink.
“So, this is Minnesota?” She gestures to the green landscape as we drive toward the suburbs where my family has a little farmhouse. “I thought it would be colder than this.”
“Is that why you’re wearing…uh, whatever it is you have on?”
She looks down at her mismatched outfit. It’s almost like something out of a cartoon, but somehow she manages to rock it like a supermodel. She’s got a stiff little jacket, tight jeans that show off her gorgeous legs, and boots that go up to her knees, despite the fact that it’s the middle of summer.
“By erratic weather, I meant sometimes it rains,” I say. “It does snow, but that’s in winter. I’m thinking I should have been more clear.”
The sun has arrived today, extra bright, sparkling even, as if to show Andi just how beautiful the countryside can be. We pass the huge center where we play our home games, and I point it out to her. Then we pass through St. Paul and continue on I-94 toward our neighboring state.
“You live in Wisconsin?” she asks, her eyes watching the sign.
“Of course not,” I say. “I’m not a traitor.”
“Didn’t mean to touch a nerve.”
“We don’t joke about these state lines,” I say with a smile. “I live near the border.”
“And what is our plan for today?”
“My mother and Lilia are out shopping or whatever,” I tell her, suggestion heavy in my voice. “So I can show you to your room…”
“You don’t waste any time, do you?”
“I see our minds are in the same place.”
She gives the slightest shake of her head, but she doesn’t deny it. A second later, she slides her soft fingers into mine, locking them there, and I sense a whisper of curiosity.
I squeeze her hand, tightly, letting her know the gesture is more than welcome. I step on the gas, floor it, and concentrate on getting us home as quickly as humanly possible.
It’s not a far drive, but I can’t last much longer. Sitting this close to her, smelling the scent of her still damp hair wrapped into a messy thing on top of her head, is intoxicating.
We’re home in ten minutes flat, the fastest I’ve managed to make this journey. I give her the fastest tour of the house ever. It’s empty, which is a miracle in itself with five of us brothers.
We’re all back in town to see Lawrence get hitched. He’s the second youngest, a little spoiled, but we’re all happy for him. I’m also happy we don’t see my family right away as I lead Andi straight to my old bedroom.
“I have a condo in Minneapolis,” I say. “But my mom wanted us all together for the weekend, starting with dinner this evening.”
“It’s only…” She looks at her watch. “Three in the afternoon—what time do you eat dinner?”
“Honey.” I sweep her into my arms, weird crunchy rain jacket and all. “Dinner’s at seven—that’s not the problem. The problem is that my plans for you can’t be rushed.”
Her cheeks turn a little bit pink. “Oh,” she says softly.
I lean in, tilt her chin upward, and do what I’ve needed to do for these past few weeks. I press my lips to hers, long and slow, savoring every moment of her skin on mine.
Neither of us is in much of a hurry; we have hours until dinner, the house is silent, and she is finally mine.
Andi has other plans for how things are going to go, however. She nips at my lip, pulling my head hard in toward hers. A second later she’s lost her jacket and both of her hands are wrapped into my hair. I meant to get it cut before the wedding, but at the moment, I’m glad I haven’t. I like her fingers holding tight with fervor.
“Slow down, we’ve got time, baby,” I tell her. “We’re going to do this right.”
“There’s time to do it right later,” she says, a playful sparkle in her eye. “I haven’t had sex in a month, and—”
Her eyes widen suddenly, and she looks up at me as my hands slide under her shirt and luxuriate in the softness of her skin.
“I didn’t mean anything by that,” she says quickly. “If you’ve had sex, or whatever, I mean—we’re just friends. I just didn’t have the opportunity, I guess—very busy with school, you know, and—”
“Andi.” I smooth her hair. “There hasn’t been anyone else for me, either. I didn’t want anyone but you, and I still don’t.”
“Ryan,” she looks at me through her lashes. “I didn’t want anyone either. I think…”
“What?”
She shakes herself out of whatever she was about to say, smiling instead. “Never mind. Where were we?”
I’m about to argue with her, demand to know what she was going to say. I have a feeling the very same words were on the tip of my tongue, but then her hand slides down the inside of my pants, and she inhales as she strokes me. My mind is now blank.
“Shit,” I mumble, unable to control the words coming out of my mouth. “I need you, sweetheart—so damn bad.”
“Then we’ll do it right, later,” she says, her breath coming in gasps. “I need you too.”
Her chest heaves beneath that V-neck, her breasts pert, in need of attention—which is fine by me, since I’ve missed her boobs. Desperately.