Resisting Ryann Page 4

  “Guys, turn around.”

  Marcus eyes me through the rearview, furrowing his brows. “You lose something?”

  “No. I’m about to gain a dog.”

  I’m digging through my collection of DVDs, looking for the self-defense instructional ‘After School Special,’ I planned to show to the kids. I promised my dad I’d meet him for coffee before my shift, and I have to be at work in a couple hours. I’m running out of time. We skipped last week … and I miss him. His persistence finally wore off, and I decided to give him a chance. We’ve gotten closer these last few months, though I still keep my guard up. It’s hard to completely trust anyone.

  “You’re not cancelling on me, are you?” my dad answers on the first ring. There’s a smile in his voice.

  “No, I’m just running behind.” Digging through the last of the DVDs, I finally find it. “Never mind.” I look at the clock. “I’ll be there in ten.” I grin. “I’ll explain when I get there. See you soon.”

  “All right. Don’t break the speed limit for me. I can wait.”

  “I won’t.” I hang up the phone, with the DVD in tow, then make my way to my car.

  Traffic is smooth, and I’m thankful. Ever since the conversation with Gia this morning, my anxiety has been through the roof. I’m nervous about the way things will play out tonight. Dinner’s set for six. Gia told me Logan took the news exceptionally well, and that’s what has me worried. He’s not the type to give up without putting up a fight. So what is he doing? Is he really that concerned over temporarily losing his sexual privileges? My gut tells me no. I pull into a parking space close to the front and cut off the engine. The aroma of fresh coffee and pastries hits me like a tidal wave the moment I step inside. I let my eyes search the room enjoying the scent as I breathe it all in. It only takes a few seconds for me to find him, sitting at a table, alone in the corner. He has a full beard covering his face; it doesn’t suit him. Our eyes meet, and he smiles, then I give him a little wave, making my way to the table. He hands me his credit card.

  “Get me the usual. Black. No cream this time.” He’s never let me pay, so I’ve given up on trying. Plus, I think it makes him feel good to finally take the role he missed when I was a child.

  I place our orders, and wait ‘til they’re ready before I take the seat across from him, sipping my latte with a grin. “Can I be honest?”

  He nods. “Of course.”

  “I don’t like the beard,” I say, closing an eye, hoping I didn’t offend him.

  “You don’t?” He runs a hand over it, squeezing with his finger and thumb. “What don’t you like about it?” he asks, but he’s smiling like he already knows.

  “It ages you,” I reply. “There’s a handsome face under there. Why are you trying to hide it? You never were the facial hair type.”

  He shrugs. “I can always shave it off.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “I just thought I’d try something different.”

  “Okay, fair enough.” I nod, sipping on my latte. “You could at least trim it up a little.” I can’t help it. It looks awful. A couple of weeks ago when I had seen him, it was just a little more than stubble. Now it’s a full-grown beard.

  He laughs, and it reaches his belly. “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”

  “No. Of course not.” I feel bad. I’m happy to have him in my life again, and in no way am I embarrassed. “I’m just trying to help. You know … with the ladies.”

  His eyes crinkle at the sides. “Are you sure?”

  “Stop it, Dad. You’re making me feel bad.”

  He clears his throat. “Okay. No more teasing.”

  Oh my gosh. I just realized I called him dad. Now I feel awkward. It’s the first time I’ve said it to his face.

  “Reese.” He places his hand over mine. “Thank you for giving me the chance at being your dad again. I hope one day you can forgive me, but I understand it takes time.” He pats my hand with tears in his eyes. I blink mine away—not ready to talk about our past. I’d rather talk about now; it’s easier. I smile. Thankfully, he changes the subject. “Have you heard from your mother?”

  I sigh. “We talked last week—once since I saw you. She seems okay.” I rest my chin in my hand. “It’s hard to tell what’s really going on with her.” She rarely answers her phone and never calls anymore.

  He nods. “Did she ask for money?”

  “No. I called her.” She only calls me when she needs something.

  “Tell her to call me if she does. I’ll take care of her.”

  “Shouldn’t that be Tim’s job?” I grumble. I bet he hasn’t worked a day in his life.

  Tilting his head, he says, “I’m not sure whose job it is,” he replies. “It shouldn’t be yours.” He leans back in his chair and watches me. I nervously glance to the side. My stomach growls when I spot a blueberry muffin that calls my name—the kind with the frosting on top. My favorite. “I’m going to get something to eat,” I tell him. I dart out of my chair not wanting him to pay for it, then quickly place the order. My mouth waters before I can sit back down. “I forgot to eat this morning,” I tell him. I take a bite and moan—it’s delicious.

  “That why you were running late?” He raises his brows.

  “Hmm? Oh … no.” I place a hand over my mouth and swallow. “I was looking for a DVD on self-defense. I need it for class today.” I take a sip of my coffee. “Do you want a bite?” I ask, offering him a piece of my muffin before I scarf it all down.

  He shakes his head. “No, thank you.”

  “Thank God.” I smile. “’Cause this is way too good to share.” Both of us laugh.

  His expression changes to serious, and he clears his throat. The concern on his face begins to worry me.

  “What is it?”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask,” he says, folding his hands. “Did you ever hear from that boy you were dating, the old neighbor?”

  I shake my head. “Everything’s still the same.” I frown. “He hasn’t contacted me.” Just like that, my mood turns sour.

  “You haven’t heard from him at all?”

  “Nope.” I drop my gaze to the table, unable to look him in the eye. I’m embarrassed.

  He sips on his coffee. “So what’s next then?”

  “What do you mean?” I furrow my brows.

  “Will you wait for him?”

  “He basically sent me a Dear John letter. There’s nothing to wait for.” I play with my cup.

  He watches me carefully, making me nervous. “Is there someone else?” It’s like I’m being interrogated.

  “Are you going to arrest me if I answer that?”

  He laughs. “It’s the investigator in me. I don’t mean to be nosey. I’m still learning how to be a dad.” He winks, making me grin.

  I give him what he wants. “Well, there’s this friend.” I pause, chew on my lip. “He’s been good to me the last few months. I’m having him over for dinner tonight, which is a step.” I lift my brows. “It’s sort of like a double date thing.”

  He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It could be a nice distraction.”

  “A distraction,” I say, tilting my head. “What do you mean?” I glance at the time. “Shoot! I need to go.”

  He scoots out his chair. “Let me walk you.”

  “So, what are your big plans for the night?”

  His eyes crinkle at the sides. “I’m going to church.” He shrugs, hands in his pockets. The man I knew before would have never stepped foot in church. The changes I see in him continue to blow my mind. “Why the face?”

  “I just never thought I’d see the day—you going to church,” I tell him.

  He nods. “I guess I learned that life’s too big to handle without a little help.” He leans in and gives me a warm hug.

  “Thanks for the coffee,” I tell him.

  “Have a good day at work. You be careful.”

  “I will.”

  His voice shakes nervously when he says, “I love you.�
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  I’m still not comfortable telling him those words. “Okay, bye.” I climb in and start the engine, watching his reflection disappear as I make my way out of the parking lot.

  “That seat’s taken,” Logan says from his chair. Gia and I prepared a spaghetti and meatball dinner, with salad and French bread.

  Sean freezes in his spot. He’s holding a full plate of food, trying to decide if Logan means it. Knowing Logan, he means every word. He wants to be an ass, and he’s good at it.

  I shoot daggers from across the table, grabbing Sean by the arm, tugging lightly. “You can sit. Logan’s kidding.”

  “No, I’m not. That’s Luke’s spot,” Logan replies, pointing his fork in Sean’s direction. The table moves abruptly when Gia kicks him, but he doesn’t even flinch, like it’s something he prepared for. She and I exchange a worried glance.

  “Speaking of Luke,” Sean replies, buttering his bread. “Where is he? It’s funny, I can’t seem to get a straight answer out of Reese.” His eyes move from Logan to me. “Does he disappear often?” There’s no hiding the bite in his tone. I want to crawl under the table and hide. This is not what I had in mind.

  As I try to think of a way to change the subject, Logan says, “Why don’t you ask him, when he gets back and finds you moving in on his girl?”

  Gia fakes a laugh. “You’re such a jokester. Would anybody like a glass of wine?” The last part nearly comes out as a growl. She glares at Logan, but he doesn’t spare her a glance. There’s a challenge in both boys’ expressions. The testosterone is thickening by the second.

  I glance at Sean who’s back to enjoying his food like nothing ever happened. “Do you like it?” I ask.

  He grins. “The sauce is amazing.” Getting another fork full and shoving it into his mouth, he wiggles his brows. “Really good.” He gives Gia a thumbs-up.

  “It’s my secret recipe,” she replies, coming from a long line of talented chefs in her family.

  “She’s a natural.” I smile. Wish I could say the same for myself.

  Sean leans over and whispers, “Was your job to put the bread in the oven?” I elbow him in the arm. I’ve never been much of a cook, which I’ve told him before. His eyes sparkle, and he tells Gia, “I’d love it if you let me in on your secret.”

  “Not gonna happen,” Logan snorts. “Ow!” His head snaps over to Gia. She glares at him. If looks could kill …

  “Have I mentioned that you ladies look lovely tonight?” Sean’s gaze moves from Gia to me, then he winks, obviously trying to change the subject.

  “Thank you,” we both reply at the same time.

  “Douche.” Logan fakes a cough loud enough so that all of us can hear. I’m mortified. Gia’s mouth has reached the floor. Logan is staring at Sean, who is smirking at his plate, as though he finds this funny.

  “Logan, can I see you privately for a moment?” I ask, completely livid. My eyes flick to Gia, and she nods. She’ll be punishing him later. I have no doubt about that.

  “Love to,” he answers.

  “Excuse me, Sean.” I scoot out my chair. He takes a full bite of spaghetti, behaving as if what just happened is normal. I storm down the hall and pinch the bridge of my nose. Logan is behind me when I turn around. “What are you’re doing?” I whisper yell.

  He grins. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  Placing my hands on my hips, I tell him, “You’re being completely immature. I swear, what you just did in there was like something straight out of elementary school!”

  “I don’t like him.” He shrugs.

  Gia prances down the hall, holding a glass of wine in her hand. She’s pissed and on a mission, immediately getting in Logan’s face. “No sex for you! Forget it.” Then she walks into her room and slams the door.

  My eyes flick to Logan’s. “Great! He came here to eat alone. Thanks for making him feel welcome. I appreciate it.” I stride down the hall toward the kitchen, but Logan stops me with his words.

  “What exactly do you think Luke is doing?”

  “No idea.” Why don’t you tell me? I want to say. I think all of us know that he isn’t where he said he’d be.

  “You think he’s with another chick?” I don’t respond, but the possibility has definitely run through my mind. “You really don’t have a clue, do you?” He scoffs, letting out a sardonic laugh. “You’re it for him. He’s in love with you.”

  Momentarily squeezing my eyes shut, I reopen then and leave him alone in the hall. Sean sits at the table with half a glass of wine and an empty plate in front of him. I clear our dishes then place them in the sink—a little shaky and embarrassed. “I’m sorry dinner was,” I purse my lips, trying to find the appropriate words, “ cut a little short.”

  He smiles. “Dinner was amazing. Don’t worry about it.”

  I sigh. “I wasn’t expecting him to be rude like that. It was completely uncalled for.”

  Rubbing his belly, he yawns. “It’s not your fault. And hey, I got a meal out of it. Beats Ramen any night.” He raises his brows. “I should probably get going though, considering those two are about to fight,” he says, pointing toward the hall.

  I look in that direction and blow out a breath. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. In fact, I think I can hear them now.”

  “You’re welcome to join me if you want?”

  “It’s tempting, but I’m tired. Next time we’ll have to—”

  “Go out,” he interrupts. “You’re gonna let me take you out, right? Saturday?” He winks.

  “Yes. And I’m looking forward to it.” I nod. “Plus, I made you a promise, remember?”

  He walks toward the door, stretching. “And I’m going to hold you to that promise.”

  “You do that,” I tell him. We say our goodbyes, and I finish cleaning the remnants of our dinner, while listening to the faint sounds of Logan and Gia’s fight. This is going to be a long night.

  Time. That’s what my father wants from me. It’s not about the money—never has been. No. For him, it’s all about payback. It’s about getting even for the time he’s lost. After all, I was the one who turned us in that day—the day I saw my mother’s charred remains pulled out from the rubble.

  I’d walked out the front door, sick of listening to them argue. She’d begged and pleaded that I not go, though the pleading was with my father. I didn’t have a choice in the matter. It was the last time I’d see her alive.

  They’d hauled us off in separate vehicles—him to prison, me to juvie. I’d thought leading them to the drugs would lighten the guilt I’d felt for leaving her. The judge let me off easy. My father didn’t get the same leniency. They’d tacked on a bunch of extra charges for child abuse and neglect, which only lengthened his sentence.

  The fire was ruled an accident, and they never reopened the case. Lauren and I were placed into the foster system where we continued to have our ups and downs, but for the most part things were better.

  I glance at my furry companion who’s taking up residency in my bed. “Glad you’re comfy.” He snores beside me. He’s been here all of forty-eight hours and clearly made himself at home. We took a liking to each other right off the bat. Maybe he sensed he could trust me—that he needed me as much as I needed him. They say dogs are good at those things. The chances of finding him were slim to none, but we did. I glance at his sable-colored coat and scratch him on the neck. “Chance.”

  His ears twitch, and he watches me, with eyes that are almost human. Maybe that’s why I talk to him like he is. Either that or I’m crazy.

  “You like that name?”

  He raises his head then tilts it.

  I’ll take that as a yes. “Chance it is,” I murmur, turning over. “Do me a favor and scoot over. You’re hogging the bed.”

  My cell phone chirps with a text while he pants beside me. I glance at the clock. “Looks like you’re alone tonight, buddy.” A minute later it’s ringing. There are only a handful of people who would call—none who I want to talk
to, but I place the phone against my ear anyway. “What do you want?” I grumble.

  “We found Samuel,” Warren replies from the other end.

  I rake my hand through my hair, staring at the bare wall across from me. I’ve only had an hour of sleep.

  “Meet us at the shop. Hurry.”

  I know this won’t end well for him, regardless if he took the money or not. “Be there in twenty,” I mumble back. Warren hesitates like there’s something more to say, but the line clicks, and he’s gone. I drop the phone on the bed and look at Chance who’s watching me with disapproval.

  “What?” I ask. He gets up on all fours then jumps off the bed and makes his way to the back door. I walk over and let him out, fill up his food, then put in a call to Andrew.

  The Smoke Shop is a business my father uses as a cover right outside of Tucson. Marcus and Warren stand outside looking like they haven’t slept any more than I have.

  Warren flicks his cigarette to the ground before immediately lighting another. “Gage has got him in the back,” he says, his head tipping toward the entrance. The door swings open, and my father walks out with Rachelle close behind him. She’s dressed like a two-dollar hooker.

  “Glad you could finally make it,” he grumbles, disappointed I’m the last one here.

  “Anything for you, Dad,” I bite back.

  “Luuuke,” Rachelle sighs, wrapping her arms around me. “It’s so good to see you.” She presses her entire body against me. My father seems to enjoy the interaction, which only confuses me. I break away without a word, clearing my throat. The guys snicker beside me.

  “We were just leaving,” my father says, unlocking his car. “Gage knows what to do.”

  “Of course he does,” I tell him, rocking back on my heels.

  “Goodbye, son.” They both climb inside his Range Rover, and we watch them drive away.

  “She wants you,” Warren says, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “And your dad don’t seem to mind either.”