So Hank wasn’t exactly a good source when it came to finding out more about my lineage. I couldn’t say I was surprised. “Thanks, Hank,” I called out as I waved to him. With a long exhale, I turned to face my new home.
Two nights later, it was pouring rain.
The skies erupted into a garish display of yellow lightning as thunderclaps interrupted the otherwise comforting sound of the rain pelting the roof and windows, warning everyone to keep inside. I, for one, dared not upset the god of thunder by even thinking of venturing outside and, instead, sat huddled beneath a heavy wool blanket in front of my electric heater, praying the portable appliance wouldn’t blow another fuse. The sounds of raindrops leaking through the roof and plopping into two iron pots, four iron skillets, and five glasses made a symphony in their own right.
I glanced up at the door when I heard what sounded like a knock, but dismissed it, figuring the wind must be causing something to rap against the house. Besides, who would decide to visit in the middle of a storm? The only person I knew in New Orleans was Hank, and it was way past his bedtime, or so I assumed. Granted, it was only nine o’clock, but I had a feeling Hank was an early-to-bed, early-to-rise kind of guy.
The second strident knock on the front door convinced me that it didn’t have anything to do with windblown drops of rain. I pushed on my slippers and padded over to the front door, wearing the blanket around my shoulders and probably resembling an old crone with the flu. After checking the peephole, which afforded me no more than a blurry view of someone in a white shirt, I pulled the door open as far as the chain would allow and poked my nose out.
“Hi,” I started, my eyebrows furrowing in the middle as soon as my gaze settled on the impossibly tall man looming before me. “Can I help you?”
Now, I’m pretty sure that fate had nothing to do with this gigantic and, ahem, very handsome man randomly showing up on my doorstep, but I was at a complete loss as to who he was or why he was visiting me. Last time I’d checked, I wasn’t in contact with any broad-chested, golden-haired Adonises with…dimples?
“The name’s Ryan Kelly, ma’am,” he said as he offered me a beefy hand along with the most charming smile I’d ever seen. His pronounced Southern accent was easily as appealing as his boyish grin.
“Oh,” I answered, making no effort to shake his hand. It wasn’t that I was trying to be rude, but I had no clue who this man was and I had a sneaking suspicion he was going to try to sell me something.
He laughed as if it was of no consequence to him whether I shook his hand or not and then plopped said hand into his jeans, shaking his head at his apparent mistake while his dimples continued to deepen. “You must be wonderin’ what the heck I’m doin’ on your doorstep?”
“Um, yeah, something like that.”
He chuckled again and the sound was so inviting, I could feel my lips beginning to part in a reflection of his smile. Hmm, maybe fate did have something to do with Ryan Kelly? Maybe he was the god of thunder, who just happened to ride in on the storm, fleeing his kingdom up in the clouds.
“I’m your neighbor,” he said finally as he motioned over his right shoulder. “I live up the street, maybe five houses.” He brought his gaze back to mine and I felt myself flushing. “I just wanted to make sure you were doin’ okay in this storm.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling incredibly relieved that he wasn’t going to try to sell me a vacuum cleaner I didn’t want or a set of stainless-steel knives. Taking a deep breath, I realized how completely unfriendly I appeared—especially to a neighbor. “I’m, uh, I’m fine, thanks.”
Ryan had to be six-five, six-six if I had to guess, and his incredibly broad shoulders and overall giant frame made him look like he’d missed his calling as a football player or a wall. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just appeared to be taking stock of me, as if trying to decide if I were being honest about my announcement that I was fine.
He extended his hand again. “Let’s try this again. Ryan Kelly, ma’am, pleased to meet you.”
I laughed nervously as I unlatched the chain and opened the door. Reaching my hand out from beneath my blanket, I allowed him to shake it. I tried to ignore the charismatic and charming drawl that decorated his words, but with little luck. I wasn’t from the South—nope, I was born and bred in California, so I was definitely unaccustomed to Southern hospitality. I’d actually only ever been to New Orleans once, when I was a junior at Cal State Northridge, working my way toward my bachelor’s degree in history. It was summer break, and after spending a year and a half working part-time gigs, a girlfriend and I had saved up enough money to take a road trip across the country. Or so we’d thought. We’d actually ended up running out of money in New Orleans so we spent a few days here—a few days that had found a permanent place in my heart. Of course the Cajun food had been a good selling point, but the pull I felt to New Orleans was much more about the culture itself. The people were among the most open and friendly I’d ever come across, and the sense of history was both pervasive and awe-inspiring. All told, the Big Easy had existed in my memories as a place where I felt…home.
“Peyton Clark,” I managed after a protracted silence. “Pleased to meet you.”
Ryan laughed a deep, infectious sound. “I apologize for gettin’ off on the wrong foot, so to speak. I hope I didn’t frighten you?” he asked quickly, as if the thought just occurred to him. That was when I realized my hand was still in his. I pulled it free and smiled apologetically, as if it were an odd thing for me to pull my hand away from his, even though I knew it was much odder still that he’d held it so long. Thinking I could have been, and, therefore, probably should have been, frightened by some random dude showing up at my house at night, I realized I wasn’t frightened at all. That thought actually scared me more than Ryan’s unannounced visit. “Um, you didn’t frighten me.”
He nodded and offered me another winning smile. “I’m happy to hear it. Just wasn’t quite sure what sort of impression I was makin’ on you. I hope it’s not a bad one.”
“No, it’s not a bad one,” I answered quickly.
“You sure you’re okay here?” he asked again, offering me a drawn eyebrow and a general expression of disbelief. He even looked past me, craning his head as if to take stock of my home’s interior.
“I’ve got a few leaks,” I admitted at last, then shrugged like the eleven canisters filling up with rainwater around the house weren’t any big deal.
“I knew it,” Ryan said with another boyish grin. “And I should also probably admit something…”
“What?” I asked, immediately overcome by a wave of suspicion as visions of Hoover vacuum cleaners started to dance before my eyes.
“My visit wasn’t just to be neighborly,” he started with a heartfelt sigh. “Hank asked me to come by and check on you.” He smiled broadly. “Ol’ coot was convinced this place was gonna fall apart on top of you.” Then he glanced past me again, chuckling. “An’ can’t say I disagree with him!”
I laughed. “So you know Hank?”
“We go way back,” Ryan said in explanation as he flashed his toothpaste-commercial smile. “Hank’s been our family mechanic since I was in diapers.”
“I see,” I answered with a quick smile as neither of us said anything else for the space of four heartbeats. “I…”
“So,” Ryan started at the same time I did and then chuckled as I shook my head and let it be known he could speak before me. “I guess you’re plannin’ on fixin’ this place up?”
I nodded immediately, pleased to have a new topic of conversation. I wasn’t one who dealt well with uncomfortable silences. “Yeah, that’s my plan.”