“Should I have let them win?” I stare at him, looking for clues.
He tosses his head back and laughs.
There’s one thing I have learned tonight. Deaf people are loud. These guys made a ton of noise with laughing squeaks and wonderful guffaws. But it was a good thing to experience, just like Ryan’s laughter is.
“I love it when you laugh like that,” I tell him.
He stalks slowly toward me. “You do?”
I grin and step back, but he comes quicker for me. I turn and run, because he looks like he wants to play, and he hooks an arm around my waist and lifts me from the floor. I kick and bat at his hand until he sits down on the couch and pulls me into his lap. He turns me sideways so I can face him.
“Where did you learn to play poker?” he asks.
“Emilio.” I wiggle in his lap and he adjusts me so that more leg than bottom is on him, and he leans me back against the armrest so that he’s partially over me.
“Emilio’s a good dad.”
“Really good. So different from my real dad, but so good at the same time.” I can’t even explain it to him. They’re like night and day, but they do have a lot in common, mainly that they both loved me to distraction. With Emilio, I have never felt like a sad adopted girl. I feel like a daughter. His daughter.
“I like seeing you without gloves,” Ryan says, and he lifts my arm so he can press a quick kiss against my tender wrist. My arms are a little sore, but in a good way. “It’ll feel like a sunburn tomorrow,” he says.
“Really?”
He nods. “Probably.”
“Should I wear gloves when I meet your parents?” I watch his face closely.
He rocks his head back and forth like he’s thinking about it, and my heart clenches. Then he says, “No. Mom doesn’t mind tattoos.” He points to his own full sleeves. “Have you seen me lately?” He grins. “She’ll be fine with it.” He points to his lip. “She hates the piercings, though.”
“I like your friends.”
He kisses my lips. “They like you too. Jackson wanted to know if he could ask you out.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That you don’t date losers.”
I laugh. “Who did you tell them I am?” He had spoken to them occasionally, but I was so busy watching my cards and their faces that I missed most of their responses.
“My girlfriend,” he signs. He looks wary, though. “Is that all right?”
I nod. “Yes. It’s all right.”
He grins. “Good.” He jostles me so I look at him. “Can you stay for a while?”
I nod and scoot off his lap, my heart thundering in my chest. “I can stay all night.”
He jerks a thumb toward the door. “What about your man?”
“What about him?”
“Is he just going to sit out there?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.” I laugh. “That’s his job. If he gets tired, someone will come and relieve him.”
“Seriously?”
I laugh at the stricken look on his face. “Seriously. What’s wrong?” I ask.
His brow furrows. “Kind of makes it awkward putting the moves on you while he’s outside. That’s all.”
“His job is to notice nothing,” I try to explain.
“Can you send him home?”
“For how long?” I ask.
“All night, I hope.” This time he blushes, and it’s something I didn’t expect. I love that he’s unsure. I love that he’s wondering how far we can go.
I get out of his lap and go to the door. I open it and lean out. The security guy is at the end of the hall, staring out the window. “I think you can call it quits tonight,” I call to him. He turns around. “I’m going to spend the night.”
“Is the apartment secure?” he asks.
“You can come and check it.” I motion him inside, where he checks the locks. “Go home. Get some sleep.”
He nods and says, “I’ll wait until you lock the door.”