Page 120 of The Path to Loving Him
“Oh my God, look at you two.” Bower holds her hands together. “Adorable.”
I roll my eyes and whisper, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I came over because well, Hayes is grilling and told me to come up here and ask if you wanted to join us for lunch.”
“Oh that’s?—”
“We’d love to,” Bower says. “We were just saying how we’re starving. Now, we don’t want to come empty-handed.” She taps her chin and then gestures to my legs. “Can we offer you a bruise or two?”
Ryland gives off that playful smirk that he’s so good at. “We’ll take the bruises.”
“Great, I can also offer you dessert. What’s between the bruises.”
“Oh my God, Bower!” I shout this time, making Ryland laugh harder.
“That kind of dessert shouldn’t be shared around the table.” He winks. “I personally like that to myself.”
“Oh dear heavens.” Bower places her hand on her chest and rocks into the wall. “Straight from a novel. You, my guy, are straight from a novel.”
“What?” Ryland asks.
“Ignore her. We’ll come down.”
“I can come get you when you’re ready . . . unless you want to keep wearing that shirt.”
“I don’t . . . I mean, I do, I like it, but I don’t want to wear it down there because you know what’s under . . . uh, never mind. I’ll change and walk downstairs myself. There will be no carrying of me.”
“Gabby.”
“I’m serious, Ryland. I will not have you carrying me around in front of your family. I can manage. Okay?”
I can see that it’s painful for him to acquiesce, but he does. “Okay. Food will be ready in about ten minutes. No need to rush.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll be down there in time,” Bower says. “Oh, but before you leave, maybe you can rub some more of thatarnica gel on her. I’d do it, but I’m just not into arnica, you know?”
“What does that even mean?” I ask.
“Some people like the arnica, some people don’t. Count me in the dislike column.”
I turn to Ryland and say, “I can rub it on myself.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.” I shoo him away. “Now go.”
“Is that how you treat our host?” Bower asks. “Thank you, Ryland, for the invite. I’ll be sure to bring the bruises . . . and if you’re up for the dessert, you just let me know, I can shimmy and waddle her into any position.”
“Bower . . . one more word and you’re going home.”
“Can you believe this girl?” she asks Ryland while motioning to me with her thumb. “And she wants me to move here.”
“Not anymore.”
Ryland chuckles. “Okay, see you down there. My offer still stands if you need help.”
“Thank you,” I say, and then he’s out the door and down the stairs.
I turn to my friend and point a scary finger at her. “Unless you want me to tell everyone down there that you once farted in your trainer’s face at the gym and made him dry heave, then you better be on your best behavior.”
