Skin hungered for touch. It would be horrible to never feel a pat on the back or an affectionate hug. He turned his hand over and splayed his fingers wide in invitation.
She looked down at his palm and back at him.
“It won’t bite,” he said with a gentle grin. “And it doesn’t mean anything more than a neighbor offering a hand if you need it.”
She glanced back at his palm and frowned. He waited in silence. If she didn’t take it, no problem. But if she did, he’d happily be the friend she could lean on.
A vaporized puff of breath fanned from her lips as she let out a long exhalation. Her arm slowly shifted, her dainty hand covered in a tattered glove gradually filled his. Their fingers laced as he closed his grip around hers, gently holding.
Her shoulders lifted and fell with each shallow breath as she stared down at their entwined hands. If she wanted to break contact, she could. But she didn’t. This wasn’t at all what he’d expected when he found her waiting for him.
Her hand tightened, squeezing with surprising intensity as she turned her gaze back to the driveway. They sat in silence, simply holding hands, for over an hour, both of them savoring the quiet connection, before she let go.
Chapter 12
After her next session with Alec Devereux, Maggie decided it was time for a bold move. Something, therapy or perhaps her budding friendship with Ryan, made her hopeful that life could improve. For the first time in two years she felt like she was making progress. Though she didn’t have any concrete proof, she felt change in the wind. It was more of a gut thing.
That Friday, she stopped by McGinty’s on the way home and sat on every couch in their showroom until she found one that made her smile. It was pale blue with brushed nickel buttons down the arms. It would totally clash with the deep russet tones of her living room, but she loved the contemporary feel of it. It gave her an airy, light sensation she wanted to maintain.
She purchased it on the spot and arranged for the delivery that evening. Unfortunately, there must have been some miscommunication with the shipping department, because when she turned her bike onto her property, the couch had already arrived, and the delivery truck was nowhere in sight.
“What the hell?” She parked her bike and called McGinty’s from her cell while standing on the porch staring at her new plastic wrapped couch. This was not her living room, where they assured her the sofa would be delivered.
As she explained to the receptionist that the delivery was supposed to be for six that evening and the couch was meant to go inside her house, not the porch, the woman on the other end apologized. But the delivery crew was gone for the weekend and wouldn’t be back until Monday. The most the woman could offer was a refund for the delivery fee and a complimentary carpet steaming to be redeemed within the next thirty days—like that solved her problems.
Maggie ended the call and sat on the plastic wrapped sofa occupying her porch. She stared at the field across from her house. How the hell would she get this inside on her own?
She’d have to call Perrin. And Perrin would insist on bringing her boyfriend over to help. A boyfriend who Maggie never took the time to get to know, even after two years of him dating her sister…
It was awkward to say the least.
A horn beeped and she lifted her head just as Ryan’s truck turned the corner. A jolt of relief had her sucking in a breath, which she then held for a second, wondering if asking him to help her was somehow taking advantage.
Did she want to involve him? He’d probably agree to help the second she asked, because he was that nice. But what if he had plans? She should just call Perrin.
“Is this a new look you’re going for?” He stood at the bottom of her porch steps, thumbs hooked into the pockets of his worn jeans and a pressed flannel tucked in at the waist. He looked too clean for a lumberjack or even the junior CEO of a lumberyard.
She flushed. Why was she looking at his clothing? “They screwed up my delivery.”
“So now what?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
“Well, while you think on that, why don’t you give me a hand lifting this couch through the door?”
She smiled as he climbed the front steps. She didn’t even have to ask.
He lifted the plastic covered arm, tipping her off the cushion and onto her feet. “Up you go.”
“Are you sure?”
He rolled his eyes. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you try to move this yourself?”
She hid a smile and unlocked the front door, then lifted the other end. Ryan held the brunt of the weight, and she helped steer.