He grimaced. “I got this, Emily.” He handed the girl a ten-dollar bill. “Make that two regular coffees, please.”
The cashier shrugged again and shook her head, as if wondering what was to become of the world if everyone started getting unflavored, un-chemically enhanced coffee with no milk, foam, or sprinkles. “Suit yourselves.”
“Do you have a few minutes? I was hoping we could talk,” Ryan asked as they walked to the other end of the counter to collect their drinks.
She tapped her foot on the floor. He was doing the soulful eye thing, the bastard. “Sure. I have a little bit of time.”
He smiled, and she fluttered inside. Damn it.
They walked outside and sat in some white plastic chairs at a table in the shade of an enormous oak tree. It was another gorgeous day on the island, compliments of the chamber of commerce mandate.
“So how did you happen to find me here? Just lucky?” Emily took the top off of her coffee and blew on it.
“I texted my dad who texted Lilly who texted Chloe, and Chloe said that you were here.”
“Sounds like you were determined.” That felt sort of nice, but she wasn’t going to let him off that easy. “I hope you plan to apologize for insulting my sister.”
“Now you’ve gone and spoiled the surprise.” Wistful smile. Damn him. “Yes, I do want to apologize. I should not have called your sister a gold-digging bimbo. At least . . . not to her face.” Ryan chuckled, and Emily felt herself doing the same, in spite of herself.
“That’s a terrible apology.”
“Well, I’ve never given one before, so I haven’t had much practice,” he teased. “And now maybe you’d like a chance to take back what you said about my father?”
Emily straightened in her chair. “Why would I take that back? He’s got no business hitting on my sister.”
Ryan cleared his throat. “Your sister is a grown woman, Emily. Barely, I’ll admit that, but old enough to make her own decisions. It’s not like he lured her into some kind of trap. He didn’t get her drunk or offer her candy. She asked him to dance.”
Emily swallowed a mouthful of too-hot coffee, and it burned all the way down her esophagus. “She asked him to dance?”
“Yes, at some square dancing thing at the church. She told you that’s where they met, right?”
“No, she hasn’t been very forthcoming with the details, and we’ve been surrounded by family ever since the whole pie tent debacle. What was that at church, by the way? Was that planned?”
“Apparently, but I was as much a pawn in that as you were. My dad didn’t tell me until we were walking back to his place that Lilly wants her dad to get to know him before she tells him the truth.”
“That’s a terrible plan. My dad’s going to be livid.”
Ryan nodded. “Everything about this smacks of terrible plan, but that’s how your sister wants to play it. My dad is willing to try it her way, although he did tell me he’d much rather just face Harlan, man to man.”
“I’m not sure that would be much better.” There really was no good way to break that kind of news to Harlan. “So, they met at a square dance? I guess maybe your dad misunderstood the meaning of the term hoedown.”
She earned a chuckle from Ryan for that one. “Very funny. You just called your sister a ho. See how easy it is?” He gazed at her from over the rim of his cup.
“Oh, you’re very funny. So, my sister asked your father to dance, but that doesn’t mean he had any right to, you know, practice all his suave and debonair moves on her.”
Ryan burst out laughing, leaning back in his chair. His T-shirt rode up a little around the waistband of his shorts and she caught a glimpse of flat, tan abdomen, and suddenly she didn’t need coffee. She needed smelling salts. Girlfriend was about to swoon. Good heavens, Emily needed to go on a few dates. Obviously it had been far too long if a tiny glimpse of happy trail had her so hot and bothered. She’d add that to her list of things to do when she got home. Get laid.
“Why is that so funny?” she said to Ryan, sounding a little more irritable than she’d intended.
He kept laughing. “Because you make it sound like he’s got some great game, Emily, but trust me. My dad has no game. Zero gameage. He was married to my mother for forty years, and I’ve never seen him so much as flirt with a secretary or a waitress. So this whole image you have of him being some kind of dirty-dog playboy is absurd. Why do you think my brothers and I were so convinced that some woman must be conning him? It’s because he’s so clueless.”
“He may be clueless by California standards, but this is Trillium Bay, and other than four years of college in Northern Michigan, my sister has not had much life experience. Seriously, Ryan. Just by virtue of being from someplace outside of this state makes him like a celebrity to her.”
He observed her for a moment. “Well, that sort of supports my theory that she thinks he’s her ticket out of here, doesn’t it?”
Emily pressed her lips together. Ryan might be onto something, but she wasn’t ready to admit to it. “Okay, look, there might be a hint of possibility to that, but it’s not because my sister is some kind of gold digger. She would never hook up with some guy just so he’d take her on a few nice vacations. She must genuinely like him, for whatever reason, although I’m sure I can’t imagine what that is.” She could not resist adding that last dig.
He took a slow sip of coffee, still staring at her in a rather unnerving fashion.
“I’ll concede that after having met your sister, I don’t think she seems like the type of person to take advantage of someone else. She doesn’t seem conniving,” Ryan said.
Emily leaned forward and folded her arms on the table. “She’s not remotely conniving. If anything, she’s gullible. That’s why I’m so worried about her. I feel like your dad is going to break her heart.”
“Or she’ll break his. When she decides she doesn’t want someone his age, she’ll dump him, and I don’t think I can stand to see him grieving again. My mother died about eight months ago, and he had a hard time coping after that. Now he’s done a complete one-eighty, and at some point, he’s going to realize she isn’t what he really needs. No offense to your sister, but either way, they both get hurt.”
“So what do we do about it? Just . . . let them have at it and pick up the pieces later?”
“Probably. I guess. I think the harder we push them to break up, the more united they’re going to be in staying together, but maybe we can, you know, nudge that inevitable breakup to happen sooner rather than later. Before they get even more emotionally involved?”
She sipped her own perfectly plain black coffee. “How do we do that?”
“That is the big question, isn’t it?” He stared out at the bay for a moment. “I guess we need to just keep steering them toward their obvious incompatibilities until they come to the conclusion on their own. And maybe we should try to create some negative associations.”