“Shush.”
Mike leaned a hand on the door frame.
“Wager?”
“First man to fold.”
Mike’s eyes cut to me once, quickly. “Interesting. I’m in. Time or quantity?” he asked as casually as if they were discussing the weather.
“What time is our flight again?”
“Eleven forty-five. We’re gone by nine,” Mike’s deep voice rumbled.
“Time. We can sleep on the plane.”
“Agreed. Bet?”
“Two bills?”
“Sounds fair. Women keeping time?”
“Yep,” Ryan quipped. “Time gets written down so there’s no cheating.”
“Anything else?” Mike asked.
“Nope.”
“What time is it now?”
Ryan leaned around to see my alarm clock. “Ten after eleven.”
I watched as they shook hands.
“Have a good night,” Mike said with a nod.
“You too, man.” Ryan tapped his shoulder and then locked our bedroom door.
Me and my big mouth.
The lascivious glare Ryan gave me instantly made my heart beat faster, warming me in all the right places, effectively distract-ing me from all of my woes. I was the rabbit and he was the hungry wolf and it was obvious that I was about to be eaten alive. Perhaps this wasn’t a stupid suggestion after all.
He walked with purpose, stalking over to my side of the bed.
Game on.
My alarm went off at eight o’clock. I wanted to hurl it against the wall and smash it to bits. Ryan’s arm was pinning me to the bed and he was out. Even the shrill of the alarm didn’t stir him.
I heard the shower turn on so I hit the snooze button one more time before dragging my butt into the kitchen to make the guys some breakfast.
Marie came shuffling in, rubbing one eye, and mumbled something that sounded like
“morning.” “You write your time down?”
“No.”
She stretched. “Damn, my body hurts.” My body ached, too. I could feel the pain in my hips. “Yep.”
She grabbed a piece of mail off the counter, tore it in half, and grabbed a pen.
“Was this shit really your idea?” I took four coffee mugs out of the cabinet.
“I said it as a joke.”
“It was brilliant.” She pushed the torn envelope and the pen toward me. “But I think he broke my vagina.”
I spit out some coffee after that one, staining my envelope piece. I wrote down the last time I looked at the clock: 4:50.
Marie had written 5:10.
“Looks like Ryan’s out two hundred,” I muttered.
Mike came in all fresh and looking mighty fine in a pair of worn jeans and a gray tee that hugged every muscular curve. “Morning, ladies. Who won?” He ran a hand tenderly over Marie’s shoulder.
“You did.” She beamed up at him.
He smiled and kissed her as if they’d been together for years. I didn’t miss his hand possessively palming her butt cheek, either.
It made me smile.
“Pay up, shorty,” he teased Ryan when he came into the kitchen.
Ryan motioned for the results. “I lost by twenty minutes?” He groaned and tossed the papers onto the counter. “That’s bullshit.” I poured a cup of coffee for him. “Sorry, babe.”
“Twenty freakin’ minutes.” He towered over me, giving me the stink eye. “You made me quit, too.”
“Sorry. I was done. You want me to pay half?”
“No,” he grumbled, scowling at me, making me question whether he was truly upset.
“I got it. But you owe me and I will collect.” I followed him into the bedroom, worried.
“Are you really mad at me?”
He smirked. “No, babe. I’m just teasing. I was tired and wiped out, too. It’s okay . . .
until I collect what you owe me.” He cracked me hard on the rear.
I sucked in a breath, imagining him collecting. I hated watching Ryan pack. He was always in motion.
Like two sad sacks, Marie and I hugged and kissed them both goodbye in my living room. Marie looked just as forlorn and reluctant to let them go as I was. We stood there for a moment after the door closed behind them, staring at each other in silence, feeling empty.
“That was the best night of my life,” she uttered. “Thank you for that.”
“I heard you scream a few times.” Marie rolled her eyes, abashed. “I heard you, too.”
We gave each other a high-five, just because.
She yawned. “Well, I don’t know about you but I’m taking my broken vagina back to bed.” I watched her walk funny, doing the
“I’ve been fucked hard” swagger down the hallway.
I shuffled behind her, feeling her pain echo in my own sore hips and thighs. “Yep.
Me too.”
I crawled my achy body into my cold, empty bed, thinking about how much sleeping without Ryan sucked.
A few days later I was Skyping with Ryan when the separation hit me hard. “I hate being away from you.”
He tilted his head, studying me. “You don’t have to be, you know.” I pulled my fingers back, as if his words had bite. “I know.”
He regarded me for a moment before turning his attention back to the documents in his hand. “Sell it. Cut yourself free.” As much as I’d thought about it there were several reasons why I couldn’t. “I can’t. Marie and Tammy rely on me, on this place. I can’t screw my friends like that. Besides, I need to work, Ryan. I’m not good with doing nothing or shopping every day.”
“I need you to manage my life,” he said simply.
“You just don’t want to deal with your mother,” I teased.
He scratched his head, distracted, seemingly frustrated. “That too.” I frowned at his lack of attention, which then had me tapping my finger on the image of his face, as if that would do the trick.
He finally looked up. “Listen, parties, family gatherings, holidays, vacations, all of that personal stuff is in your realm, Taryn. She wants to throw an engagement party for us—fine. Work it out, block out the dates, and put it on the calendar, and then when you’re done with all of that explain to me what these numbers are on my investment statements because I can’t figure out how I could lose so much in one quarter.” That was an easy one. “Your accountant sucks. Money needs to be managed, not resting in a coffee can until you have bills to pay.
He should be making more strategic invest-ments for you.”