No One Like You (18 page)

“I’ll do a quick sweep of the backyard,” he informed her. “I’ve got an ice pack ready for you. Meet me on the couch in five.”

She took ten minutes and arrived in the living room wearing an old Barnard College T-shirt and a pair of yoga pants. Soft, loose and comfy. Cuddle up on the couch clothes.

She dropped down on the sofa. Sighed heavily. She felt suddenly tired. Atlas spotted her. He left Ry’s side in the kitchen and joined her. Instead of hopping on the couch, he lay down by her feet. She scratched his shoulder with her toes.

Rylan brought her a dish towel and a Ziploc bag filled with crushed ice. She took both from him, leaned her head on the back of the sofa, and closed her eyes. She positioned the dish towel over her cheek, then placed the bag over it. The coldness seeped through quickly. It hurt and felt good at the same time.

Ry eased down beside her. He took her hand, said, “This was my fault, and I’m sorry. I should never have insisted you bathe Atlas.”

“The baths were originally my idea.”

“So . . . more your fault than mine?”

“We’ll each shoulder the blame.”

“Next time we hire a mobile groomer.”

“Bathing them is part of my job.”

“Not anymore.” He was firm. “My cousin owns Hair of the Dog. He’ll come to the house. I’ll get his number for you.”

She wasn’t going to argue with him. She opened her good eye, whispered to him. “Atlas never got his treat.”

“The boy’s not starving. He’ll survive until morning.” It dawned on Ry then that they hadn’t eaten. “What would you like for dinner?”

“Pizza.”

“I’ll call for delivery.”

“Half meat lovers, half vegetarian.” She’d split it with him.

Ry made the call. “Here in twenty minutes,” he told her. “Watch for the pizza guy,” he said to Atlas.

The dog moved to the front window.

“He’s taken the cardboard box out of the delivery man’s hand. The man likes me to meet him at the sidewalk from now on.”

Atlas barked a short time later. Ry went to pay for the pizza. He fixed her a plate, included a soft drink. They sat side by side on the sofa and ate until they were full. None of the dogs begged for a bite. Ry rewarded them by slicing an apple. Juicy and crunchy. “Not your candied apple,” he reassured her from the kitchen. “It’s still safe.” He cleaned up.

She smiled at his consideration. Her thoughts ran to the picnic and all she had left to do.

She started to get up, but Rylan had returned and put his hand on her shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“My office. I’ve work—”

“Not tonight you don’t.” He shook his head.

“I want your picnic to go off without a hitch.”

“It will,” he assured her. “What’s on your list?”

“I need to clean the house.”

“Hire a cleaning service.”

“The menu—”

“Find a caterer.”

He’d cut two more of her duties, which was kind. However, she didn’t want him taking away so many that she was out of a job. “I’d planned to cook and clean,” she told him. “Keep within my budget.”

He narrowed his gaze on her. “Screw the budget, Beth. Make it easy on yourself. I don’t want you in the kitchen during the picnic.”

“Where am I supposed to be?”
Dog sitting?

He seemed surprised by her question. “Outside with everyone else, meeting my family and friends, and enjoying the day.”

That set her back. “But I’m your assistant.”

“It’s my picnic. I want you there as my guest.”

His guest
. That was the nicest invitation she’d ever received.

“Let’s relax and have a good time on Saturday.”

She could do that. Happily.

“Care to watch some television?” he next asked her. He located the remote on the bookshelf.

She removed the ice bag, blinked. Her vision was clear. “For a while.”

“Any chance you like westerns? There’s a marathon tonight.
Gunsmoke
,
Big Valley
,
Bonanza
,
Rifle Man
?”

“I’m a fan of rope opera,” she said.

He took the Ziploc from her, emptied it at the kitchen sink. Returning to her, he sat down, his body flush against hers. She liked their closeness. She made it through an hour episode of
Gunsmoke
before her eyelids grew heavy. She stirred awake, only to have sleep overtake her completely. She sagged against Rylan. He wrapped his arm around her. Tucked her to his chest.

She slept until morning.

R
ylan woke to a wet nose against his cheek. He cracked his eyes and saw Atlas. Staring at him. The other dogs were lined up, too. Waiting, watching, curious.

What time was it? he wondered. A twist of his wrist and he checked his watch. Seven-thirty. He didn’t remember when he had stretched out on the couch, shifting positions. From sitting beside Beth to spooning her. His hand had found her breast in sleep—which didn’t surprise him. He was drawn to touch her. She felt good in his arms—soft, curvy, feminine—as if she was meant to be there. But for how long?

He removed his hand, but her warmth remained on his palm. He rested his chin on the top of her head. Her springy curls tickled his nose. He was afraid he might sneeze. Raising on one elbow, he tried to get a peek at her cheek. How bad was the bruise?

Really,
really
bad, he was soon to discover. Half her face was dark with color. He noticed a slight split in her bottom lip that hadn’t bled the previous evening, but was evident by morning’s light. He instinctively held her tighter. Feeling protective. Accidents happened. He felt bad that his insistence she bathe Atlas had ended so poorly. The big dog would never purposely hurt her. Atlas had accepted her as his temporary human.

“Rylan?” Beth spoke softly as she slowly wakened.

“Right behind you.” Sporting a hard-on that was painful. He was pushed as far back against the couch as he could get. Yet one roll of her hips, and she would
feel
him. There was no hiding his erection.

“The dogs need to go outside,” she mumbled.

He would have to get up to let them out. The idea of a doggie door crossed his mind. That might be nice. If he could find one to fit Atlas. The gang could go in and out at will, when either he or Beth was home. He’d take measurements and check out the prospects today.

“Can you sit up for a second?” he asked Beth. Hoping she’d lean forward and not back.

No such luck. She rocked back first, and found what he’d tried to hide. His boner pressed her bottom. Spots on her neck and cheek that weren’t bruised blushed a bright pink. The lady was colorful.

“I’ll take care of them.” She rose quickly. Atlas head-butted her hip for attention. She scratched his ear as she walked to the kitchen.

Rylan groaned as he sat up. He adjusted himself. He’d pulled his jeans on without his boxers. His dick scraped against his zipper. He’d have teeth tracks if he wasn’t careful.

A cold shower would calm him down. His other alternative was sex . . . but not with Beth. She was not an option. He had a few women he could contact for an early morning bootie call. He’d have to go to one of them, however. Not here.

It seemed too complicated at the moment. All he wanted was release. He could always take care of himself. Not his first choice.

He heard pans clanging and the refrigerator door open and close. Beth was preparing breakfast for the dogs. She would feed him, too, should he make the request. A part of him enjoyed sharing food and conversation with her. However a second side of him needed to escape.

He liked Beth Avery. He was surprised by how much. His feelings were confusing. He’d felt her pain when Atlas slammed his head into her cheek. She hadn’t screamed or cried, yet he’d sensed her vulnerability. He wished he had the power to heal her. Staring at her afterward, he’d seen her inner beauty. Her compassion and caring. Her big heart.

He’d held her on the couch throughout the night, and it had been incredible. Her body had curled into his and fit perfectly. He’d slept deep, which he didn’t do often. He always had one ear for the dogs.

He had no idea how Beth felt, although her gaze warmed whenever she saw him. He valued their friendship, yet anything further would mess up their working relationship. Perhaps it was time to listen to his grandfather and take a step back, now instead of later. Give them both some space.

He had the option of staying at Driftwood Inn with the team or sleeping at home next week. A few nights at the hotel might give him the distance and perspective he needed. He’d give it some serious thought.

“Veggie omelet?” Beth called to him, offering breakfast. “I’ve started the coffee.”

It sounded good. He liked her cooking for him. So did Atlas. The dog’s food was in the oven and his nose was an inch off the door. The scent of his morning meatloaf had him drooling.

Ry rose from the couch, his erection still evident, but no longer unbearable. He made it to the kitchen and located a tape measure in a top drawer. He took down the dimensions for the side door. A shower and shave were next. “I’ll catch breakfast in town,” he told Beth when he returned the measuring tape. “I have a lot of errands.”

“Anything I can do for you?” she asked.

“Stay home and take it easy if you can.”

“I’m expecting deliveries today,” she noted. “Several picnic tables and the solar lights.”

“Have the men unload by the garage. Otherwise Atlas will want to help, and he’ll only get in the way.”

She gave him a thumb’s up. “Got it.”

“Ice your face, too. There’s swelling under your eye.”

“Will do.”

He was slow in taking the stairs, slower still in getting ready for his day. His thoughts remained on Beth, downstairs with his dogs. Feeding them, then cooking her own breakfast. Sharing a bite or two of her eggs with Atlas and crew.

Maybe he should’ve joined her.

Then again, maybe he was smarter not to.

He texted Shaye and asked if she would stop by his cottage and check on Beth while he was away for the day. Perhaps Shaye could suggest a house cleaning service and a caterer, too. There wasn’t much time before the picnic. Beth seemed competent, but the Cates’ arm stretched long. Shaye could pull some strings and make things happen.

His sister’s return text indicated that her day was scheduled to the second. She would try to squeeze out a few minutes to visit Beth. There was no guarantee.

Rylan backtracked, reworked his day. He would grab a quick bite at Molly Malone’s Diner on the boardwalk then stop by the hardware store and buy a doggie door. He’d swing back home to install it. He had some handyman skills. He could see how Beth was doing. He was her boss. She was his responsibility.

He cleaned up and took off. He drove his Range Rover to the beach, parked behind the diner. His cousin Violet greeted and seated him. He slid onto a blue leather booth in the corner.

The place hadn’t changed over the years. The colors reflected the beach, aqua and sand tones. Continuous foot traffic had yet to scuff the brown-tiled floor. One wall was decorated with restored vintage photos, each one depicting the growth of Barefoot William. One black-and-white photo showed the original fishing pier under construction. Another pictured the boardwalk with only three shops. In the largest of the photographs, ten big boats were scattered offshore. Commercial fishing had supported the town for fifty years.

Ry was drawn to the older photographs. He thought about mixing a few framed prints with his abstract painting. An eclectic blend of artwork. He liked different. He wondered if Beth would feel the same. She might even have some suggestions of her own. He was open to her ideas.

A waitress set a menu before him. He studied it and chose a vegetarian omelet and coffee, the same breakfast Beth had offered him earlier. He should’ve let her cook for him. It was one of her duties. He’d let her fix him lunch.

His server suggestively flirted with him. She got off work at two. He appreciated her interest, but didn’t act on it. He could still feel Beth pressed against him when they’d lain on the couch, as if her backside had left a permanent imprint. He flexed his hand and shook it for good measure. He had to stop cupping her breast.

He watched customers come and go. He waved at his sister-in-law when she entered the diner alone. Jillian joined him in the booth. He flagged down his waitress for another menu and place setting.

Jill smiled at him once they’d ordered; she went with French toast and hot tea. “How’s my favorite Rogue?” s

“I’m fine, but don’t let Halo and Landon hear you say that. They’ll swear you love them best.”

She sighed. “Let them think what they will.”

“You won’t convince them otherwise.” He unwrapped his silverware from the folded napkin. “What’s happening in your world today?”

“I’m waiting for a big delivery at the Rogues Store. The truck is late. Team memorabilia is flying off the shelves.” She winked at him. “You’re a popular player, Rylan. I can’t keep your jersey in stock.”

The waitress brought her tea. Jill took a sip, then went on to request, “Stop by the shop tomorrow if you have time and sign your photographs. Baseball caps, too.”

“That I can do.”

“What are your plans for today?” She showed interest.

“I’m running errands,” he told her. “I have a new fence and now need to buy a doggie door.”

“Do they make them big enough for Atlas?”

“I’ll need to make some adjustments.”

Their food arrived, and they dug in. Rylan’s omelet tasted good, but not quite as good as Beth would have made it. He chewed thoughtfully. He needed to stop making comparisons.

Violet Cates-Davis walked by their table.

“Join us?” Rylan invited her.

“I could use a break.” Vi took a seat next to Jill.

Rylan had always liked Violet. She’d married her high school sweetheart Brad. He’d been dirt poor when he left town after graduation, only to return a wealthy man. Flipping small businesses had made him a fortune. He’d bought the diner when Molly decided to retire, making Vi the new owner. She was vibrant, happy, and always knew the latest boardwalk gossip.

Violet rested her elbows on the table, said, “I’m looking forward to your picnic on Saturday.”

Jillian finished one of three slices of her French toast before agreeing. “Me, too.”

Surprisingly, so was Ry. He’d dreaded such occasions over the years, but not this spring. “Beth’s putting it together.”

“She’s working out okay, then?” came from Jill.

Far better than he’d expected. “She’s doing great.”

Violet smiled at him. “I hear your PA is a looker.”

“Who told you that?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“Both Halo and Landon,” Vi told him. “They’ve been taking their meals here. Nice enough guys. They’re still wearing their Cates T-shirts. My waitresses love them. They’re entertaining and leave a big tip.”

Rylan’s inquiring mind wanted to know. “What, exactly, did they say about Beth?”

Vi tapped her temple, thoughtful. “That she’s smart, quirky, fun to be around, and easy on the eyes.”

Ry had to agree. The guys had left out the fact she was good with his dogs, had a mysterious past, and would only be in their lives eight weeks.

Jill nudged Violet with her elbow. “Beth sent out a general e-mail, telling everyone to dress comfortably. There will be volleyball and croquet. The Cates men have already challenged several of the Rogues to volleyball. Competition will run high.”

“What are you wearing?” Vi asked.

“A sundress. No volleyball, but I can still play croquet.”

Rylan tuned out the girl talk. His mind wandered once again to Beth. He couldn’t help himself. He wondered what clothes she had in her closet. Her suitcases had been light. She hadn’t asked him for additional hangers. She’d already worn her interview clothes twice. Her cutoffs several times. Did she need something new?

Her cheek wouldn’t be healed by the weekend. Eggplant purple would be her color of the day. A contrasting outfit might be nice. The decision to shop for her came with his second cup of coffee. He could also use a woman’s opinion. Violet was working. Perhaps Jillian had a few minutes to spare.

He waited until Vi left the booth before he approached his sister-in-law. “Atlas needs to make amends with Beth. He sent me to buy her a gift.”

Jill arched an eyebrow. “What did the big boy do?”

He detailed the Great Dane’s bath and how Beth had been popped in the cheek. “She has pale skin and bruised instantly. She must have been in a lot of pain but didn’t complain once.”

“Strong lady,” Jill admired. “I’m sorry she got hurt.”

“Me, too. Atlas gave Beth his toys, but he needs to do more.”

The corners of Jill’s mouth twitched. “How much does your Dane wish to spend?”

“Whatever’s appropriate. You tell me.”

Jill contemplated. “More than a gift card but less than a car.”

“That’s a wide range to consider.”

“What do you know about her? What does she like?”

“Abstract art, progressive photography, junk food, my dogs.” That he knew for sure. “I’d like to go with clothes.”

“Do you know her size? Favorite color?”

He could only guess. “She’s shorter than you, but your bodies are similar. Any color other than black and blue.”

“Will Beth be working the picnic?”

“I’d prefer she didn’t. I told her to hire a caterer.”

“Will she listen to you or be stubborn and do it herself, because it’s her job?” Jill asked.

Ry hadn’t thought about that. “I don’t honestly know.” He could only hope that she had made a few calls, inquired about menus, and wouldn’t tackle the cooking herself. He had a gut feeling she was doing more than she should be.

“I frequent several boutiques in Saunders Shores,” Jill said. “Upscale and good quality. Let’s see what we can find.”

Rylan paid for their breakfasts. They left the diner for the boardwalk. Headed south. He was glad Jillian took the lead, otherwise he’d have been lost in the designer stores. He wasn’t into fashion. He’d never bought a woman clothes, which put him at a disadvantage.

They entered Eclipz, a boutique owned by designer Melody Sommers. She greeted Jillian warmly and shook Rylan’s hand. Jill explained their shopping mission, adding that the gift was a reward for an employee’s dedication and hard work.