Least Likely to Fall in Love (6 page)

Deciding she didn’t need to be the audience for a horrible paint catastrophe or teenagers in love, Lindy walked back out to the field. On one side, Rob and Blake were bagging trash under the bleachers while their fathers worked the lawn mower and trimmer along the field’s outside track. Amateurs would never touch Coach’s field, but he was taking full advantage of this help to get some of the more neglected areas up to snuff.

When she walked around the field house, she could see Ryan in the midst of a large stack of trash cans. The click and whoosh of spray paint cans was clear even from where she stood. Apparently, he was on trash can duty. She was just about to duck back around the corner when he turned his head and waved.

Gritting her teeth, Lindy ordered herself to be coolly professional and walked over.

She stopped far out of the line of fire. “How did you get trash can duty?”

He slid his sunglasses up into his messy perfect hair before he smiled at her. Just like that she was seventeen again, weak in the knees over a handsome face.

“Coach asked me what I’d like to do. The lesser of the evils was painting trash cans. So here I am.” He raised an eyebrow. “Need a job? I could use an assistant.”

She pointed at his hand. It was devil red. “No way. I’d insist on gloves. Are you crazy? You’ll have a red hand for days now.”

He jerked his head to motion at a pile on the grass. “Had gloves. Didn’t think I’d need ’em, so you are more than welcome to slip them on.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “So, you were…what, too tough for gloves?”

He grimaced. “Couldn’t have been too
smart
, now could it?”

As much as she didn’t want to, she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped.

She walked over to the pile. “What’s the white for?” There was no way she was doing this. Of course not. She was just here to supervise. But he was watching her. She had to do something. Activity and busy-ness had always been her defense.

“The stencil. See?” When she picked up the can of white spray paint, a lion stencil shifted in the breeze. “That goes on after they’re sufficiently red.” He motioned at a line of cans that definitely had to be red enough already. “That’s the last step.”

“Fine. I’ll help. But I’m smart enough to use a glove.” She picked up the protective eye gear, too. “I may not be cool enough for these glasses.”

He cocked his head to one side. “I don’t know. Put ’em on. Let me see.”

Lindy slid them on and propped her gloved hand on her hip. “Just call me Safety Girl.”

One corner of his mouth lifted as he swept a glance from her head to her blinding white tennis shoes, and her stomach tightened with each centimeter he advanced. “That’s a pretty good look for you, Safety Girl. Now, get to painting.”

She narrowed her eyes at him but walked over to the first can and painted on the lion. She was glad when Ryan slid his glasses back down. Maybe she could concentrate better.

***

More than once Ryan had to force himself back to the task at hand. Lindy was proving to be more of a distraction than a help. He’d made pretty good progress through the first half of metal trash cans, but the second half was proceeding at a much slower pace. That was her fault. Her hips and rear, wrapped in dark denim and in perpetual motion, were things of beauty. But he knew better than to stand around staring at a woman’s butt.

Even if it deserved attention.

She was perky. He’d give her that. Energetic. Determined. And on the first few cans, she carefully placed the stencil and stepped back to judge that it was perfectly centered top to bottom and side to side before she ever picked up the can of paint. Then, following the rules to the letter, she gave the can a solid shake. The first time he’d nearly dropped his paint.

Her vigorous shakes made her ponytail sway and the rest of her bounce. He absorbed every single shake behind dark shades.

If she could see him watching her, she’d have keeled over right there in the shadows of the field house. But she was serious about doing a good job on the cans. In the beginning. After three or four, she’d gotten the hang of things and all the shaking and bouncing and bending and shifting had picked up the pace and his had slowed.

No matter how he lectured himself on how he owed her complete and total respect for her help with Maddie, his attention kept straying.

He wished he could tease her, make her laugh, get her attention without bringing up the past.

He wished they’d just met. A fresh start would have made things so much clearer.

Ryan checked his watch and told himself to get with it. Thirty minutes or so and the first work day would be done. As he tilted the last can, he shook the red spray paint and made quick work of a thick, beautiful coat. He set it back down and slapped the cap back on the can. He stretched his arms and then slowly walked back over to where Lindy was finishing up the second-to-last can.

When she rubbed an arm over her forehead and then yanked the stencil off the can, he said, “Looks good.” She made quick work of the last, nearly-dry can. She put the cap back on the can and set it next to his before she said, “Thanks.”

This was going to be good. Ryan nodded. “But you’ve got a problem.”

Lindy tilted her head in an “Oh, really?” attitude.

Ryan motioned with his head. “I don’t know if this one’s asleep or dead, but either way, that’s not what Coach had in mind.” The fourth can she’d painted had a beautiful lion on it, but he was upside down.

“Oh, for…” Lindy stomped over and picked up both cans.

Ryan was curious if the curse word bubbling on the tip of her tongue would make it out of her mouth. It didn’t. Instead, she gritted her teeth and gave his red can a shimmy and shake. She checked over both shoulders and quickly destroyed the evidence of the upside down lion. When the can was only red again, her shoulders returned to their normal place. She didn’t like making mistakes. Being caught in them was so much worse.

“Thanks.” She capped the red again and then impatiently paced in front of the can while she waited for the paint to dry.

“You know, I can finish that one if you need to go. I appreciate all your help.”

Lindy shrugged a shoulder. “Nah, my mistake. Besides, I’m almost done.” She smiled at him before she remembered that they were mortal enemies. Or had been. Ryan had lost all the will to fight with her. Instead, he wanted to run his non-red hand down her cheek. He wanted to do that right before he kissed her. At this point, he was afraid to try it while she was weaponized.

Ryan walked over and picked up the box to pack up all his supplies while he waited for the last lion to go on. He tossed in the empty cans and then set the two partials on top. When he heard the hiss of paint, he turned around to enjoy one last look.

Lindy finished the lion and then pulled off the stencil. With a happy sigh, she checked all the other cans and then pulled off her gloves. Ryan tried to wipe the evidence of his enjoyment off his face, but something must have lingered. A slight flush swept up her cheeks, and she stumbled as she stepped close enough to drop her tools back in the box.

“Come to dinner with me.” The words surprised him nearly as much as they shocked her. It had been ages since he’d invited a woman to dinner. Obviously. He’d forgotten how to ease his way into it. He’d also forgotten how much he hated rejection.

And the memory of Maddie’s disgusted face floated past too late to save him.

Lindy frowned and shook her head. The flick of her long ponytail at any other time would be cute. Now it was a symbol of how he wasn’t going to get what he wanted.

The horror on her face was a pretty solid set down. In case he missed that, she made it crystal clear.

“Ugh, no. I’m not going to dinner with you. What a terrible idea for about a million reasons.” She started to dart around him, but Ryan wrapped his hand around her wrist to stop her.

She shot a look down at his hand and then another up at his face that indicated she was about to escalate the hostilities.

He could easily imagine it involving her bright white tennis shoes and a sensitive portion of his anatomy. Or, from the way she clenched her fist, a sharp jab to his nose. He decided to press his luck anyway.

“Okay, give me a convincing reason. Maybe I’ll change my mind.”

She didn’t say it out loud but the look on her face shouted, “Oh, you want to go, mister?”

She poked him in the chest. “How about this? I don’t date parents of students. It weakens my authority.”

Ryan pursed his lips. “Really? I have a hard time imagining that. How many fathers have you had to turn down?”

Her lips worked for a minute as the pink in her cheeks flared back to life. “That’s beside the point. It would weaken my authority, so I don’t do it.”

Ryan shook his head. “Try another one.”

She poked again. Ryan fought the urge to rub the spot. “You’re not my type. I like a more…mature kind of guy, someone with, you know, ambition and stuff.”

“I own my own business, do pretty well for myself. I raise a teenager all alone and she’s pretty damn great and you know it.” He snorted. “Please.”

“Fine. Then I’m not your type. Too smart, too tall, too boring. Right?” She dared him to agree.

Ryan yanked sunglasses off and hooked them in the neck of his T-shirt. He bent his knees to meet her stare directly and wrapped his hands around her elbows. “You need to open your eyes. For as long as you’ve been painting over here, I’ve been enjoying every damn bounce and jiggle and swing and sway. I haven’t been in a real relationship since the last one crashed and burned about a year after Anna died, and I am telling you that right now, you are so much my type, that it’s all I can do not to show you exactly how much I’d like to get to know you much better.”

She gasped and tried to step back but frowned when he didn’t loosen his grip. “Right. You’ve been…alone for years. Ryan Myers without a homecoming queen on his arm? Do I look like I’ve hit my head or something?”

“No, but you’re stuck in the past.” He shook his head. “When Anna died, I had a grieving little girl, a business that was barely off the ground, no money, no help, and no choices. Even now, I live in survival mode, holding my breath until Maddie’s grown up.”

She didn’t believe him. When he said it out loud, he had trouble believing it, too. No wonder he was such a tense asshole some days.

“But now, you’re overcoming all that to demand that I go out with you.” She shook her head. “I don’t get it. Why me? Why now? You must have plenty of options. Need a training-wheel run before you hit the real world or something?”

“Because it’s you. When I saw you in your office, all of a sudden I wanted more than survival. And you’re here right now. And I had to try. I didn’t want to miss this chance.” That was the corniest shit he’d heard in a long time. When she didn’t vomit ridiculing laughter, Ryan decided the honest emotion had come through.

Then she planted a stiff arm, one that would have broken a tackle, if needed, right in the center of his chest.

Her shoulders snapped back and worry crossed swiftly across her face before a full frown wrinkled her brow. She shot a quick look around and shoved herself another step back, out of his arms. “Are you insane? I mean…” She slapped a hand over her mouth and shook her head.

Ryan reached out to soothe her. He wanted to touch her again. He hadn’t been concentrating well enough to commit everything to memory.

She held out a hand and then pointed at him. “Fine. You want a good reason I won’t go to dinner with you.” Ryan heard the door slam on the field house and watched her struggle to keep her voice down. She didn’t exactly succeed but even in a lower tone he could pick up on the fury.

“How about this then? I. Don’t. Like. You.” Each word was emphatically punctuated with a sharp poke. “You made my life miserable. There’s no change, no personal growth, no way in hell…” Her voice broke. “You don’t get to turn this into some stupid movie where the stud discovers the nerd’s beauty was there all along. Or whatever this is. This is my life. My job. I found my own beauty a while ago, and I didn’t need your help. I don’t want to see you, Ryan. Seeing you reminds me of the way you made me feel, and I don’t need that anymore. I’m past that. So…” She took two steps back. “Find your training wheels somewhere else.”

He started to say something, he had no idea what, but she spun on one sneaker and then froze as she noticed Maddie, Eric, and Coach Ford. Ryan didn’t know how much they could hear, but judging from their faces, the visual was enough.

Lindy yanked the bottom of her T-shirt down. “Hey, Coach, we finished up those trash barrels. Look great now!” She waved. “Maddie, Eric, I’ll see you next week.” Then she stomped at a high rate of speed to the world’s tiniest, cutest little red car, plopped behind the driver’s seat, and drove off with a spray of gravel.

Ryan bent to pick up the box of paint and tools and handed them over to the coach.

Ignoring Ford’s sympathy was easy enough.

Ryan glanced over at Maddie. “Ready to go?” He held out his thoroughly red hand and knew it was a sign of overloaded mental capacity that she had nothing snarky to say about it.

When she nodded, he wrapped his red hand around her nape and led her out to the truck. He had a few moments of blessed country music before Maddie figured out where she wanted to start.