Autumn stares off into space as though she’s back there with Mom.
“She told you all that?” I say softly.
“She talked about it with Dad a lot too.” Autumn nods. “She would’ve been an amazing writer, sis. If she’d been around long enough to pursue it.”
“I know you’re right,” I tell her. “I wish she was still here.”
“So do I.” Autumn looks at me, sadness in her eyes, then she smiles it away. “But that’s not why I mentioned it. This isn’t a doom-and-gloom sort of thing. This is good. It means you can imagine all the ways this date can go wrong… or you can choose to enjoy it instead, take what comes and imagine it going well.”
I close my eyes, sitting back, but it’s difficult to feel anything except the churning in my belly.
“I need to go and wait outside soon,” I say. “We didn’t exchange phone numbers, and he doesn’t know our apartment number either. Or the building, come to think of it.”
“Can I come down with you?”
I smile over at her. “Of course. You don’t have to ask.”
We walk down together, standing at the entrance to the park. Autumn takes out her phone and snaps a few pictures of me. I do my best to smile as I clutch onto my small handbag. I try not to feel like I’m a dork playing dress-up.
“Maybe he won’t show,” I mutter.
“Is that what you want?” Autumn asks.
“No,” I say without having to think about it.
“Then stop imagining so many depressing things, huh?”
I give her a nudge. “Since when did you get so bossy?”
“One of us has to be.”
We laugh together, then turn when a car glides down the lane.
It’s a black sedan, the windows tinted, but I can see Ryland sitting in the driver’s seat.
He’s wearing a shirt with the top button undone, showing a slice of his muscled chest. His smirk is easy as he gets closer, pulling the car to a stop.
When he steps out, I see that his sleeves are rolled up slightly, showing off the tautness of his forearms.
He strolls over, nodding to Autumn. “Nice to see you again, Autumn.”
“And you.” Autumn smiles, but there’s an edge to it. “I don’t need to explain what happens if she doesn’t come back in one piece, do I?”
Other men might bristle at this, but Ryland looks at my big sister solemnly. “I’d never hurt her. You have my word.”
He turns to me. “You ready?”
I swallow.
I think so. I’m not sure. I hope so.
Pushing all the indecision away, I nod.
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ryland
As I drive, I think about the conversation I had with Charley yesterday.
Even he agreed I need to keep this casual, to hold back eighty percent of what I’m feeling. If I can do that, there’s a chance for this to develop like a regular romance….
Which means I won’t be able to tell her everything I’m feeling for months, if not longer.
That’s the regular timeframe, isn’t it?
Distracting myself, I glance for the umpteenth time at Rachel.
Her outfit had my mouth watering the moment I saw her. The wet-looking jeans cling tightly onto her voluptuous thighs, outlining the shape of her body. Her ass looks even bigger and more eager to be massaged and lavished with attention.
Her breasts in that sparkling top… they have me wanting to beat my chest, to turn feral.
But her face is the sweetest, the way she’s applied her makeup to highlight her flushed cheeks, some light framing of her wide and innocent eyes.
“How have you been?” I ask.
“Since yesterday?” she giggles in that musical way of hers. “Not too bad. Work was… well, work. It’s boring.”
“Time to make yourself a singing career, then,” I say.
“I’m trying,” she replies. “I do open mics when I can. It’s nerve-wracking as heck, but I know I need to.”
“Heck.” I chuckle, a relief after all the bone-deep primality and need. “I’ll never get used to you saying that.”
“I’m not even sure why I say it. Autumn has a potty mouth. I guess, maybe… I don’t know.”
“What?” I urge.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I’m interested,” I tell her.
I don’t add that everything she says or thinks matters to me.
“Really?” she asks.
I smirk as a laugh escapes me. Part of me wonders if it’s an effort to hide a darker response, to mask the true fire that flares within me whenever she asks me a question like that.
For her to even wonder if I’m interested or care about her….
It’s unthinkable. It couldn’t be any other way.
“Yes,” I say, keeping my voice steady with an effort.
She shrugs, the movement that always draws my gaze to how her breasts move. It’s a tempting shift of her voluptuous beauty, the way her breasts shift for me, the way their gorgeous roundness heaves. I have to be careful not to let them tempt me.
Pull the car over, find someplace quiet, and indulge in those creamy thick gorgeous tits.