My brows raise. “For wanting a job?”
“We’d made a deal,” he explains, “that I would focus on school. Get good grades. Do whatever extracurricular I wanted. Have fun. She didn’t want me to waste my youth worrying about her and Chase. Her job paid well enough, but obviously Cali isn’t a cheap place to live and being a single mother of two growing boys had its downfalls. But she always made it work.”
I scoop up a piece of chicken and study it absentmindedly. His relationship with his mother is heartwarming, and I love that she wanted him to enjoy being a kid. Some families have no other option. Still, I can’t help but wonder, “Do you think you would have helped me if you didn’t grow up in that situation?”
This time, he doesn’t pause. “I don’t know. Maybe? I try not to focus on what could have been because there’s no reason to get lost in theoretics. Now, eat up before it gets cold. I know how you are about cold food.”
I smile to myself but hide it with the spoon. We eat in peaceful silence for a few minutes, both staring at nothing and soaking up the warm air cascading around us. I don’t know where the owner is, probably in the back, but I know Garrick slipped him extra cash to keep quiet about us being here.
I don’t think the older guy even knew who Garrick was, but I didn’t say that to him.
I’m almost done eating when I turn and ask, “Why aren’t you sitting on the bench across from me?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“Because I wanted to sit by you.”
I’m quiet.
He smirks. “How’s the soup?”
“Warm. Salty. Not as good as yours.”
He beams. “You should tell that to my mother, she thinks hers is better. Chase won’t be a tie breaker because he’s afraid of us.”
I blurt, “I’d be more afraid of your mom.”
Garrick laughs, bumping my shoulder. “I probably would be too. My brother has never liked picking sides. When he was little, he used to say he loved everything equally, even if it was obvious there was something he liked more.”
“Like your soup?”
He only grins.
“You talk about your brother a lot, but I want to hear more about young Garrick. What are some funny and embarrassing things you did when you were little?”
“You first.”
“I told you about the wall drawing.”
He presses his lips together. “Not good enough. All kids do that.”
I pout. “That’s not fair.”
He winks. “Fine. When I was about six I pissed my pants and blamed it on the dog.”
“You had a dog?”
His eyes light up. “No.”
Slowly, I shake my head. “What is with you and fictional dogs?”
“I’ve always wanted one.”
I eye him skeptically. “So get one. You’re Garrick Matthews, you can get anything you want.”
There’s something in his eyes I can’t figure out as he looks over at one of my eyes, then the other, and trails down to my lips. It’s a moment or two before the heat simmers in his blue gaze and he murmurs, “Not everything.”
I feel it in my fingers.
The tingles.
Then the butterflies in my stomach.
The back of my neck prickles with heat.
But I don’t say a word or acknowledge what’s left unsaid in between the lines. So, to shift the mood, I dart toward his ice cream to steal some since he never did get me the chocolate cone I ordered before replacing it with soup.
He greedily jerks his food away, making me laugh at my weak attempt.
I jab his side. “Hey, don’t be greedy. What’s that saying? ‘If I lick it, it’s mine.’”
Instantly, I know it’s the wrong thing to say when his eyes flash molten. “You can lick whatever you want of mine, Rylee.”
My eyes narrow, trying to play off his innuendo. “Except your ice cream?”
He grins again.
And I know that grin is trouble.
I lock up when a cold tongue drags across my cheek until a hot breath caresses my ear and one single sultry word is whispered in it. “Mine.”
24
Garrick
The carpeted floor is uncomfortable, but I don’t complain as I prop a pillow under my head and cover myself with the knit blanket Rylee gave me before she hurtled under the comforter on the bed like she was afraid I’d see the shorts she was wearing. Too late. The second she walked out of the bathroom down the hall and back into her bedroom, my eyes went straight to her legs.
She’s been restless since the lights went out, nothing but the occasional car driving by outside to fill the quiet between us. I know she’s not sleeping because she’ll shift every few minutes. I debate on what to say to calm her but come up blank.
Pretty words are a specialty of mine.
Sincere ones come naturally.
But I’m not sure if Rylee wants to hear either from me.
Something has been building between us for a while now, far beyond the shameless flirting that I do to make her blush. And last night was the first time she’s opened herself up to the possibility of more, and I don’t want to let that go because she’s second guessing her decision.
Instead of letting it nip at me, I break the thick silence. “What is your favorite childhood memory?”
Rylee stops fidgeting. “What?”
I repeat the question, divulging my own first. “My mum took Chase and I to see Bon Jovi in concert. It was the first concert I’d ever been to. Left a mark, I guess. He’s her favorite singer, but we all used to sing along whenever she’d play his music. That concert was…” I smile, staring up at the ceiling. “It was by far my favorite memory. I always try channeling the energy of that show at the ones Violet Wonders put
