Perfectly Charming (A Morning Glory Novel Book 2) (18 page)

So why didn’t Ryan know this? His parents were as sore a subject as the town, but other than being . . . uh, different, Emilio seemed happy to have his son home. Hmm . . . she’d wait and see how the dynamics played out before questioning him. At the moment, she wanted to ease him into the environment.

“Eden can’t be there for an hour, and I want to meet your mother before I go,” Jess said, walking toward the front door. “Let’s get our bags and get settled in.”

“Dad?” Ryan asked, turning toward his father. “Is it okay if Jess and I share a room?”

Jess hadn’t even thought about their sleeping arrangements. She’d assumed that since both she and Ryan were consenting adults they would share a bed, but the thoughtfulness and respect in Ryan’s question made her heart warm.

“I don’t see a problem. You’re no longer a boy, and I’m assuming by your question that you and your lady friend frequently engage in sexual—”

“That’s good, Dad,” Ryan interrupted, his green eyes growing big. “No need to go into detail.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. Sexual attraction is a perfectly healthy inclination for individuals in your particular age group. Your mother and I celebrate your choice to engage in this natural—”

“Dad!” Ryan barked. “You’re embarrassing Jess.”

Jess wasn’t embarrassed, merely uncomfortable at Ryan’s father discussing their propensity to jump each other’s bones regularly. Sure, it was natural and healthy . . . but she didn’t want to discuss it with her
lover
’s father. She’d probably need something stronger than coffee. Maybe she could talk Ryan into stopping by the Pak-n-Sak for a pint of whiskey. She glanced at her watch.

Four fifteen.

The kitchen door opened. “Yoo-hoo, I’m home!”

Yep, like clockwork.

Ryan shifted uncomfortably in the small wire chair in the middle of the ice cream-and-coffee shop. He should probably get used to it—lots of discomfort was headed his way if the last few hours were any indication.

His mother had sold his stuff. All of it. When she’d broken that news over kava tea and gingersnaps, he’d nearly exploded with fury. For years, his stuff had been his one source of pride. While other boys built their egos on catching footballs or driving a jacked-up truck, he’d ruled his own geeky world with a vast collection of rare comic books, mostly scored from his father, and collectible figures he’d purchased with the money given to him by his grandmother each birthday and Christmas. Other boys with the same propensity to collect
Star Wars
action figures and Spider-Man comics regarded Ryan as the balls. And his mother had sold it all. In a goddamn rummage sale to benefit the baseball team. The baseball team! She’d relayed the fact that Trent Mason, Benton’s nephew, had bought most of them, as if that would be consolation for the loss. The little bastard probably sold them on eBay for a fortune.

“Rosemary just texted me. She’s on her way down,” Eden said, smiling at him with eyes that looked too violet to be real. “Do you remember Rosemary?”

Ryan blinked. “Prissy-Pants Reynolds?”

Jess laughed. “Ryan was on the yearbook staff. Photographer.”

“Oh,” Eden said, nodding as if she understood. “Rosemary really wanted to win that state award. It was her biggest goal that year. Well, second biggest.” She and Jess exchanged a secret look, smiling.

“So what do you do, Eden?” Ryan asked, remembering to make conversation. Sometimes it was hard to remember the rules of society. Especially when he wanted to sulk about the enormous loss he’d experienced mere hours ago. His telescoping Darth Vader lightsaber circa 1978 was worth $6,000 alone. Made his stomach hurt.

Eden’s pretty eyes shuttered. “I’m a manager at Penny Pinchers.”

“That must be interesting,” he said politely.

“Nope. Not at all.”

He shouldn’t have tried to make conversation with her. Here, he was out of his element. He felt stiff, like he wore a pair of new blue jeans that wouldn’t bend when he sat down. The Ryan he’d been in Pensacola had vanished after only a few hours back in Morning Glory. He couldn’t find the charm he’d conjured over the past few years, and his mojo was flat on the floor, pinned beneath the oppression that was Morning Glory. Why had he agreed to this?

Because of her.

He looked at Jess. She looked happy . . . thrilled . . . in her element.

The door to the Lazy Frog flew open. “Jess!”

Rosemary Reynolds tumbled inside, auburn hair bouncing, hands outstretched. “You’re back home!”

Jess squealed. He hadn’t known she was capable, but the high-pitched frequency probably had the dogs two counties over howling. Then she started singing, “Here Comes the Bride,” and Ryan checked his arms for hives. Okay, not really, but he was taken aback by the exuberance.

“Oh my goodness,” Rosemary said, unwinding her arms from around Jess’s neck and setting her hands on her hips, gaze on him. “Look at you, Ryan Reyes.”

He didn’t know whether to smile like some greasy Casanova and say, “Yes, look at me, darling,” or pretend he wasn’t there. He went with the latter.

“Ryan,” Jess chided, encouraging his response.

“Oh yes. Hi, Rosemary. Nice to see you again. Congratulations on your impending nuptials.” He smiled and tried not to feel like the spaz he used to be.

“Thank you,” she said with a laugh, giving Jess a look that said,
high five, my friend
.

The girls lapsed into another conversation that made him imagine being on the trading floor of the stock exchange. There were lots of exclamation points used, and they talked over one another as if there were so much to be said they couldn’t wait their turn. And he didn’t understand much of it, so he sipped his latte and studied the cartoon rendering of frogs jumping onto lily pads that had been painted on the wall. After a few minutes, he realized they were no longer talking. They were staring at him.

He felt like a cornered fox and darted his eyes back and forth. “What?”

“Tomorrow night,” Rosemary said, trying to help him out, but he had no clue what they’d been talking about. His former yearbook editor had rounded out and grown softer in her look. Her hair was the same shade of reddish brown, and the light sprinkling of freckles gave her a mischievous look. Her eyes, however, had the same tenacity. He remembered how determined she could be.
I know you’ve worked hard, but all of these will have to be retaken. Sorry.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear the question,” he said, folding his hands around the cup so he wouldn’t fidget.

Rosemary’s brow furrowed, and she said, “Tomorrow night after the rehearsal we’re going to the Iron Bull. The girls wanted to give me a bachelorette party, so we’re going dancing. I don’t want anything risqué.”

“Not until the wedding night.” Eden snickered.

Ryan pulled at his T-shirt. He didn’t want to be here. He should have stayed back at his parents’, but he was so angry with his mother, he was afraid he might say something he couldn’t take back. “That’s fine. Jess doesn’t have to check with me.”

“I know,” Rosemary said, tapping his arm lightly. “But the guys are going, too. Sal doesn’t know a ton of people here in Morning Glory. He’s only been here a little over a month, and during that time he’s been working super hard on the restaurant. I’d love it if you’d come, too. Celebrate a little with him?”

“At the Iron Bull?” he repeated before catching himself. He sounded like a tool. Like a guy who hadn’t spent a majority of his nights in various beachside bars for the last year and a half. The nightlife was his arena, a place where he bought drinks, danced with hot girls, and charmed them out of their too-tight jeans. Well, he had until Jess tripped over him on the beach. So why couldn’t he hang at the local watering hole? “Sure. If it’s okay with Sal.”

“Speaking of the devil,” Eden said, pointing out the clear swinging door to the man angling toward the Lazy Frog.

Sal Genovese was a big guy with broad shoulders, an Italian nose, and thick brows. He looked a bit like that
Friends
character—one of the shows Ryan had found fascinating when studying pop culture—with the toughness of Al Pacino. He wore a rock concert T-shirt and paint-stained shorts. The work boots weren’t something Ryan would have worn, but they were probably practical in nature rather than a fashion statement.

“Well, I guess you’re a happy girl,” Sal said, dropping a kiss on her head before snagging a chair from a nearby table and sitting on it backward. He grinned and then noticed Ryan there. “Oh, man. Ryan, right? I’m Sal. Rosemary’s ball and chain.”

“Soon-to-be ball and chain,” Rosemary said, tapping his arm.

Sal held his hand out to Ryan, and he took it. The man’s grip was solid and warm, and the slight hint of yeast accompanied it. “It’s good to meet you, guy.”

“You, too. I’m Ryan Reyes.”

“Yeah, I know. These girls have been talking about you like you’re the second coming, you know.” The man grinned, showing lots of white teeth. Ryan wondered if Sal had used whitening strips, too.

“Well, if you’d known Ryan when he went to school with us, you’d understand. Him turning out so delicious is . . . well, so delicious,” Jess said, rubbing his thigh. Her touch felt good. It said,
You are one of us
.

But he wasn’t.

At all.

“People change,” Ryan said for lack of anything better.

“Do they really?” Eden asked, swirling her melting mint chocolate chip ice cream around in the cup. “I mean, physically sure. Look at Candy Simpson. She looks nothing like her eleventh-grade yearbook photo, but down deep we stay the same.”

Jess glanced over at him, and he could read her look. Okay, so he’d freaked out about his mother selling his Super Geek Collection (as he’d dubbed it in his mind) and he tried to hide his intellect behind dude stuff. He knew he really didn’t care anything about Tom Brady’s reception percentage or whatever they called it in fantasy football. And he would much rather watch a documentary than
Sex and the City
, a show Jess seemed to have a fondness for. But he wasn’t a dork.

Or was he?

The thing was, Jess knew his propensities to watch educational television and get lost in MMORPGs and still wanted to be with him. Hell, she’d begged him to come here with her. But if he were the same inside, what did that make Jess? When she’d been in school with him, she’d been this überconfident cool chick. Her only weakness had been Benton Mason. Whenever the star football player crooked his finger, she came running like a lapdog . . . much the way he’d done when she crooked her finger at him. Maybe the reason he had tossed his convictions about coming back to Morning Glory out the window was because he couldn’t tell her no. Not all those years ago. And not now. Maybe she was his Achilles’ heel. And maybe he was in love with the idea of having the ideal girl he’d built in his mind all those years ago more than he was with Jess. Of course, he wasn’t in love. Not much. Perhaps infatuated, but love like his parents had? No.

So if all this was true, how would Jess react when she saw Benton again? What if the man who’d thrown his wife away crooked his finger again? Would she go? Because if people didn’t change, how could Jess be truly free of Benton?

“Hey, man, you want to leave the girls here and come with me? I’ve been renovating an old bank here, turning it into my restaurant. You can come take a look. It’s really cool. We just installed the awning and have a few more coats of paint to do in the bathroom, but it’s almost ready to go. Besides, I’ve been working on the menu, and I have a Cajun pizza I designed today. I need taste testers.” Sal looked like an eager dog.
Come play with me.

Ryan looked at the three girls. Rosemary had pulled out her phone and was showing them pictures of the wedding cake with filigree frosting. “And look at this. These are the napkins I ordered. Do you think the gilded font is too much? My mother said it was, but I love how neutral metallics are now,” she said, swiping her phone.

Ryan looked back at Sal. “Yes, please.”

Sal slapped his hands together. “Okay, we’re out. Later, ladies.”

The three girls barely looked up as the two men rose. But the screech of Ryan’s chair on the floor caused Jess to look up. Her amber eyes glowed with such tenderness. She reached out a hand and gave Ryan’s arm a squeeze. She didn’t say anything else, settling on a sweet smile before she turned her attention back to pictures of cocktail napkins.

Sal pushed out into the heat. “Jesus, I can’t get used to the heat down here. I always thought the city was hotter than shit, but this place is soul sucking. The heat, that is. Actually, I like the rest of it.”

Ryan fell into step beside Sal, liking the easy nature of the man. This man was likely comfortable in his own skin no matter where he went. Made friends easily. Probably had a big, noisy family and the ability to blend into whatever social situation. He’d probably never drunk kava tea or had play clothes with weird mushrooms on them. “You like it here?”

Sal shrugged. “Rosemary’s here. And, yeah, I always wanted to live in a community like this. No taxis trying to mow you down, garbage in the street, and sirens twenty-four seven. We’re going to have a yard. I’m looking forward to that.”