“You’re getting me a bodyguard?”
“If you want one, I will.”
Colin shot him a look that said hell no. “Let me see the picture,” he said, and Brent called it up on his phone and passed it to Colin.
He stroked his chin and appeared deep in thought.
“What is it, Colin?” Shannon asked.
“This is going to sound strange, but I think I’ve seen this guy shooting hoops at the community center.” He tapped the screen and spoke to Brent. “Send me this picture. Let me do a little more digging.”
Brent swiped the screen a few times then said, “Done. And listen, we haven’t seen him around in a month, so my thought is maybe he was just trying to keep an eye on Shan before the case got reopened?”
Luke’s warning rang in Ryan’s ears.
You bump into a guy like Stefano on the street and you run the other way.
But he didn’t need that man’s words about the Royal Sinners to take the threat seriously. His father in the ground, courtesy of a gangland shooter, was all Ryan needed to make sure he did everything to keep his family safe. “We’re not taking any chances, because we don’t know what’s going on. That’s the issue. We don’t know everything that’s happening with the investigation. The only one who knows is the damn detective.”
They speculated more on the case while finishing the round of pool. When Shannon landed the winning shot, she declared victory for the two of them. Then she raised her cue, tapped Ryan on the shoulder from across the table, and poked him with it. “Now, fess up. What’s the story with the woman you had me buy the dress for? I want to know.”
“She’s pissed at me,” he said, heavily. He hadn’t heard a word from her since last night, so that was probably the end of Miss Peach Pie. A black cloud engulfed him at the prospect of never seeing her again.
“What did you do wrong?” Brent asked as he knocked back some of his beer.
Ryan parked his hands on his hips. “Now, why do you assume it was me who did something wrong?”
Brent nearly spat out his beer. “Dude. You just said you did. You said she’s pissed at you.”
“It’s a long story,” he muttered. “I don’t even know if she wants to hear from me again.”
Shannon hung up her cue, marched over to Ryan, and stared at him, her eyes saying we’re waiting.
Ryan gritted his teeth, pressing them hard together, locking up his words, and shutting the details in his head.
Old habit.
This was his way.
This was how he dealt.
Jam all the personal, private information into his mind vise, then crush it and let the tension live in his bones for years, like a coiled spring. The one time lately he hadn’t felt like a taut power line was when he’d given John the initials he’d gotten from his mom. Instead, he’d felt a sense of freedom from the weight of the past.
The memory of that feeling was a soft knock on the door. A gentle reminder that he’d gotten in this predicament with Sophie by keeping his secrets airtight.
Maybe it was time to try a new approach.
“So here’s the story,” he said, then told them about the only woman he’d ever even started to let into his heart. He kept it short and simple, sticking to basic facts.
When he was through, Shannon slammed her hands against his chest. “You ass.”
He stumbled into the pool table, surprise racing through him.
Brent cracked up. “She doesn’t pull her punches. You gotta watch out for Mrs. Nichols,” he said.
“Tell me about it,” Ryan said, straightening up.
“Why are you here? Seriously? Go,” she said, pointing to the door. “Go find her and tell her you weren’t using her, and that she’s the first woman you’ve ever felt a damn thing for, and that you’re all sorts of messed up in the head,” she said, tapping her temple, “but that you want to try for her. Or maybe do you want to wait ten years for her to come back into your life?”
Brent raised a beer. “Can’t think of a better advertisement for going after the woman you want this very second than our example,” he said, gesturing from Shannon to himself. “Go get her now, man. Get her now.”
Shannon turned to her husband, and the look in her eyes and the smile on her face said it all. They were in mad love.
He didn’t know if that was what he was pursuing with Sophie. It felt more like…possibility.
And hell, possibility seemed worth it. When it came in a package of brains, beauty, and heart, wrapped up in a peach dress, it seemed worth it for sure.
He searched through his mental files, trying to remember where Sophie said she’d be on Saturday. Something about the fundraiser. Doing some work with her ex. Was she at home? At her office? He snapped his fingers when he remembered.
“Fine,” he said, then leaned closer to Shannon and whispered, “But can you give me that dress?”
She smiled widely. “Of course. It’s in my car.”
He turned to the rest of them. “All right. Wish me luck. You gonna stay here and keep Johnny Cash company and eat the sandwiches?”
“We are, and then we’re going to spend the day in your pool and wreak havoc,” Colin said. “Leave now so we can start this pool party.”
* * *
The ballroom at the Venetian was perfection.
Sophie had just walked Clyde through a quick rehearsal of his opening remarks, showing him where he would enter the stage, and demonstrating how the podium would be set up for his introduction at the fundraiser.
She thanked the operations manager for the quick use of the room and then headed to the elevator with the event’s biggest donor. Clyde wagged a finger at her as they stepped into the elevator. “I can’t wait ’til next Saturday.”
“It’s going to be a great event,” she said with a bright smile she hardly felt.
Inside, her mind was a cluttered mess. She still didn’t know what to make of Ryan, or whether she wanted to keep moving forward with him. Too bad relationships weren’t math problems with precise answers. They were essay questions in a philosophy class, and they came down to judgement.
She wasn’t sure what choice she wanted to make, or even if there was a choice anymore. For all she knew, Ryan might have closed the gates on that flicker of possibility she’d sensed last night. Shut it off like a switch. She was willing to bet he was good at that. That the man had a built-in eject button, and could easily parachute himself to a soft landing far away from her.
“That’s not what I meant. I meant that I’m looking forward to meeting your gentleman at the event,” Clyde said with a wink, mentioning the man in limbo in her life. “The man who has captured the attention of Las Vegas’s most eligible bachelorette.”
Oh God. She cringed, absolutely cringed from head to toe, and stem to stern, at that designation. The feminist in her wanted to brandish her claws. The shrewd businesswoman in her affixed her best shiny, happy face. “Oh Clyde, you do shower me with compliments,” she said as they reached the ground floor. She attempted to steer him back to the matter at hand, so she could avoid the issue of her date, since she might not have one anymore. “I’m glad everything is in order for the benefit. Thank you again for stopping by on a Saturday morning to have a look-see.”
He was undeterred. “Sophie, I want to say, if it doesn’t work out with this fellow for whatever reason, you have an open door with me to connect with Taylor.”
In the blink of an eye, her wishes went from blurry to crystal clear.
She didn’t want an open door with Taylor. She wanted Ryan. She wanted the one and only man she’d felt such passion and lust and desire for.
There it was. Her answer. Her choice. This relationship was a math problem. Two plus two equals four, and four was Ryan Sloan.