Gypsy Beach (6 page)

By sundown, Ryan had finished dismantling the
screened-in porch just off of the kitchen leaving nothing more than
the concrete pad. He planned to reconstruct it the next day and
then to tear down the front porch. By Friday, he’d have the
deckings complete, and he could start tearing out the damaged
hardwood floors inside and scraping up the laminate.

Sienna had shown him several beautiful
drawings she’d done of what she envisioned the Inn looking like
when she opened it up to tourists. He’d been envious of her artful
eye and her creativity when they were teens, but she’d turned
herself into a full-fledged artist in the last ten years, and this
time he could help her make her visions a reality.

She’d brought him coffee and water a few
times while he worked, and he’d managed to keep things very casual.
He kept talk to the Inn and refused to mention his parents, Alexa,
or Evie. He didn’t want to burden her with his life. He just wanted
to help her live the one she’d been dreaming about. He had given
himself a ten-minute internal lecture after he’d tried to casually
determine if she had a boyfriend.

It certainly did not matter, though he
couldn’t quite make himself believe that. Her laughing declaration
that she’d been blissfully unattached for well over a year
delighted him.

It was getting too dark to work, and he’d
sold off all of his construction lights to pay one of his mother’s
credit card bills. He washed his hands at the outdoor spigot and
knocked on the backdoor, refusing to just enter her home again.

She opened the door with another one of those
beautiful smiles, like she was somehow actually pleased he was
there. That could not possibly be the case, he reminded
himself.

“Would you mind doing something else for
me?”

“Anything,” he answered entirely too
quickly.

She spun back to the oven. The short dress
flared, showing off just a peek of her adorable ass and of that
insanely seductive tattoo, and Ryan’s lungs begged for breath he
couldn’t provide. “Will you taste this?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” he growled, but then
realized that she was holding a wooden spoon and not referring to
what he so wanted to taste.
Get it together, moron!
He
ordered himself. “Sure, what is it?”

“I’m trying to figure out what to serve for
breakfasts, and I want to have one dinner a week on Sundays, just
like Nana used to.” She shrugged. “This is one of Nana’s sauce
recipes, but you know we like everything spicy. I’m worried it has
too many peppers in it.” She brought the spoon to his mouth, and he
quickly accepted the bite. It was outstanding.

Starving for so many forms of sustenance, he
grasped her wrist and brought the spoon back for a second lick
before she pulled it away. The electricity that sizzled between his
hand and the smooth skin of her wrist shot straight to his groin.
He felt her pulse quicken against his thumb, but he wasn’t certain
if her body was having a similar reaction as his or if he’d gone
too far. He quickly dropped her arm.

“That’s great, Sienna. I don’t think it’s too
spicy. It’s really good.” He swallowed down the aching desire to
draw her into his embrace and make up for the last ten years.

“The secret ingredient is merlot, but don’t
tell.” She beamed. He fought not to whimper. He wasn’t certain he
could be around her for the next few weeks that it would take him
to put all of her plans into place. She was too much, too sweet,
too perfect. She’d given him a second chance when no one else
would’ve. She was the person he’d hurt above all others. How could
anyone be so kind?

“Hey, it’s okay if this is too weird, but
I’ve been making sauces all day so I have a ton. I’ll never be able
to eat it all. You wouldn’t want to have dinner would you? It’ll
just take me a minute to make the noodles. I can only get one of
the burners on the stove to work.” Her apology about not being able
to cook more than one thing at a time brought back the
determination to make this into a livable home for her.

His brain made a feeble attempt to talk him
out of dinner, but the kitchen was infused with the delectable
scent of that sauce and of her. She still smelled like those
daisies she used to pick and put in her hair, with a hint of citrus
like a sunset, and fresh-picked strawberries mixed with the humid
ocean air. She smelled like the perfect summer night. His stomach
and his groin won out with ease. “You sure?” he forced himself to
ask.

“Yeah, we’re not gonna let this be weird,
right?” Sienna urged, but she didn’t sound too certain about that
just then.

“Right, I’d love to. You care if I clean up a
little?” He gestured up the stairs.

Oh, good job, Sienna. Now, he’s staying for
dinner and he’s going to take a shower. You should probably call up
that psychiatrist your mom kept telling you to see, because you
really are crazy!

“Sure go ahead.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Are you this hard up?
Her brain jeered.

“Thanks, and at dinner, we can talk about
what kinds of appliances and cabinets you want in here. I’ll get
them ordered and installed whenever you’re ready to redo the
kitchen.”

All of the mocking condemnation her brain
offered her did not compare to having dinner with Ryan McNamara and
getting a stove that worked without matches.

Friends. We are friends, and he is working
for me. Nothing more!
She told herself she was starved for
human companionship, but her heart was dangerously close to taking
over her brain all over again.

It vibrated rapidly when she heard the shower
water start to fall. Her thoughts whirled in a mass of intrigue,
desire, fear, and raw heat. Joining him in the warm shower water
that he’d so graciously provided her would lead nowhere good.

She’d never been very adept at sneaking
around, so spying on him would probably get her caught. Ryan
bursting in on her that morning brought a wicked grin to her face,
but she just couldn’t allow herself to see all of that masculinity,
all of Ryan naked. That would definitely throw the friend thing
right out the window.

Her cheeks fevered with heat as she
remembered that he’d seen her with nothing more than a hand towel
that morning. Though she knew she shouldn’t, she wondered what he’d
thought.

She hadn’t changed all that much since she
was 17, she didn’t think. She’d gotten her bird tattoo along the
road, but she was still relatively without curves. Her ass was
bigger; not that that was a good thing.

She still had no idea what to do with her
long, unruly hair or how on earth to wear make-up. Nana always
insisted that she didn’t need it, and whenever Sienna attempted to
try on some of her mother’s, she ended up looking like a deranged
clown.

Jewelry still fascinated her. She often
donned far too many pieces, like a little girl that got to play in
her mother’s jewelry box.

She preferred comfort and colors in her
clothing much more than what accentuated her decidedly pear-shaped
body. Ryan probably dated much more sophisticated women after her.
Women that knew how to dress and how not to act insane. Her mother
always said she looked like a curtain rod with drapes hanging off
of her in all of her kimono robes and sundresses. Nothing about her
was particularly sexy by her estimations, and she was fairly
certain that Ryan would agree, though she’d caught his gaze
studying her a few times that day.

It was high time she learned to follow a few
rules. She’d been roaming around the country living with no sense
of direction for long enough. If she was going to make Gypsy Beach
her permanent home, she had to be careful. Getting involved with
anyone was a bad idea, especially Ryan McNamara.

The list of questions Sienna wanted to ask
seemed to grow exponentially with every passing moment. She glanced
up at Ryan as he inhaled a second helping of her spaghetti and
meatballs.

“Do all construction workers keep extra
clothes in their trucks?” was the brilliant inquiry her moronic
mind produced in the distraction of his complete gorgeousness and
his slight moans of pleasure as he ate her food.

Something akin to pain etched his face.
Disdain swirled in those hunter green eyes that so often showed his
mood.

No, probably not. But most construction
workers’ wives aren’t complete bitches that pitch a freaking fit if
their husbands come home without showering after working all damn
day so they can spend all of their time bouncing between the spa
and the country club.

A forced smile fractured the pain on his
face. The effect tugged at Sienna’s heartstrings. What had happened
to him?

“I don’t really know. I just kind of got in
the habit of showering before I left the office. A few of the guys
in my crew did that as well, but not all of them. I’m glad I had
them with me tonight, though. This is outstanding, and I can’t
thank you enough for hiring me. I wouldn’t have stayed if I
couldn’t have cleaned up. I wouldn’t put you through that.” A sexy
chuckle escaped his lips and a glimmer of hope played on the
fringes of his eyes when he looked at her. “And this is the nicest
meal I’ve had in a long, long time. Thank you for inviting me.”

A warm heat attempted to melt through the
shield over her heart that she’d tried so hard to hold onto most of
the day.

“This isn’t really anything special. It’s
just spaghetti.” She shrugged uncomfortably. Her heart declared
vehement war with her mind.

“The spaghetti is delicious, Sienna, but the
company is even better.” His jaw clenched as tightly as his eyes
for one split second. Regret broadcast from his entire being.

Sienna had no idea how to respond. Her body
was awash in equal parts need and panicked warning.

“Uh,” he cleared his throat uncomfortably.
“Hey, did you ever make it out to California?”

Not at all certain he wanted to know, he
desperately needed something to distract him from the thoughts that
now permeated every square inch of his musclebound body. Thoughts
about having dinner with her every night. Thoughts about Sienna
meeting Evie. Thoughts mingled with memories of how she felt in his
arms and the look in her eyes when she told him she loved him. And
desperate, reckless thoughts about lifting her from her chair,
carrying her up to that bed, and showing her exactly what he’d
dreamed about every single night for the last ten years.

“California,” she sighed. “Yeah, I did,
actually. I lived there for a little while.”

Ryan nodded, but she’d abruptly stopped
talking. “Well, did you like living out there?”

Sienna fought not to whimper.
California.
Oh geez
. This was not exactly how she’d seen this dinner
conversation going. After admitting to herself that her libido had
invited him to dinner and that there hadn’t been a whole lot of
thought involved, she decided she might as well give him some idea
of what she’d been up to the last ten years.

Maybe if she spilled, he would. She wasn’t
certain she wanted to know, but the longer he sat there the more of
him she wanted to absorb. She wanted to be a part of him again, as
stupid as that was.

“I kind of went on an extended road trip for
several years. College and I didn’t really get along.” She wrinkled
her nose.

A huffed grunt sounded from Ryan. “Oh,
believe me, I get that.”

Sienna wasn’t certain what to make of his
understanding. Surely he’d gone on to college. His parents would
have forced him to, wouldn’t they? He always used to complain about
how they planned his life for him.

At first, she’d told herself that his family
was the reason he’d disappeared, and she’d eventually moved on to
blame Nana. Though it hurt so deep down inside of her to admit it,
that’s why she’d stayed away so long. She’d never spoken the
accusation, but she’d believed her mother’s lies that Ryan’s family
hated her Gypsy ancestry. That Nana’s pride in her Romani heritage
and all of that talk of Gypsy magic is what had driven him away
because they believed, just as her mother believed, that Nana and
her ways were something to be scorned.

She’d gone on with her mother’s plans after
spending six weeks praying that Ryan would magically appear on the
beach that summer. She’d been so lost and heartbroken she hadn’t
had much fight left in her. That was how she’d ended up at
Katherine Deaton. Good God, what a joke that had been. It was
almost laughable, and had she not been in the very depths of a
deep, consuming depression, she would have laughed, right in her
mother’s face.

A conservative, women’s college, full of
wide-eyed disciples of the belief that men were the answer to any
woman’s desires, which were largely unintelligent anyway. Boys’ bad
behavior was to be expected, and once a girl secured herself a
husband then all of the problems in the world would magically
disappear. It made Sienna sick. The misogyny of it all ate at her
soul. She swallowed down another sip of her wine trying to wash
away the misery.

Sienna’s papers on women’s rights and the
downfall of humankind, all at the hands of money-hungry,
self-indulgent, men, had earned her several castigating letters
sent home. After her mother and stepfather thrust them in her face
with a lecture on what a horrible disappointment she was, she would
hang them proudly on the bulletin board in her dorm room.

She spent two months being sent daily to the
Headmaster’s office due to her adamant refusal to adhere to the
ridiculous dress code. She hated bras and panties and saw no
purpose in them whatsoever, and who the fuck actually wore
pantyhose anymore, anyway?

A nasty professor, something akin to a god to
the holier-than-thou girls of KD, had offered her another way to
improve her grades, and with the quick whip of her backhand across
his sanctimonious face, she’d gotten herself expelled. No one
believed that he’d made a pass or an offer. The hypocrisy of it all
drove her insane. It also drove her to the road. Thoughts of her
life on the road left her deflated. What to tell Ryan?