Page 131 of The Path to Loving Him
I’m going to miss her.
It was so much fun having her here. I really hope that I was able to convince her to move. If not, maybe I can wear her down over time. After she went on a shopping spree in Pieces and Pages, I feel like I have a pretty good chance because she would not stop talking about how amazing their romance section was.
What I thought was really funny this weekend is that when she found out Wyatt was a bestselling author, she nearly flew out of her shorts to speak to him, but when she found out the genre of books he wrote, she wanted nothing to do with him. I think her exact words were “you can go back to playing horsey with your niece.”
She had a minor change of heart when Wyatt brought over a signed copy ofThe Virgin Romance Novelistby Rosie Bloom,which he secured at his book signing this summer. Bower took one of his books out of pity after that—that’s what she told me. I think Wyatt could see right through her, but he went with it. My job is to encourage her to read it because if she likes it, then all the more reason for her to move here. There’s me, Hayes Farrow, and a bestselling author, plus the adorable town of Almond Bay. What more could she need?
I head toward Ryland’s house in need of a shower for tomorrow. I take it slow because my legs still hurt, but I have confidence that with the right outfit, I’ll be able to go to school tomorrow and not look like a fool in front of the students.
I check the door first to see if it’s locked, and when it’s not, I help myself inside, only to find Ryland at the kitchen table with a bowl of ice cream in front of him.
When his eyes meet mine, he smiles, and that smile . . . twists my stomach up in knots. He’s so handsome, and now that he’s wearing his hat backward, looking all relaxed in his plain T-shirt and shorts . . . no socks, God, I’m tempted to just go over there and sit on his lap.
“How are the legs?”
“Okay,” I say as I shut the door. “How’s the ice cream?”
He looks down at his bowl, then back up at me. “Cold.”
“Great. Well, I’m going to take a shower.”
“Let me see them.”
“Huh?” I ask.
“Your bruises, let me see them.”
“I’m wearing spandex shorts.”
“I can see that. Take them off.”
“Ryland, I’m not going to just take my shorts off for you, that’s . . . that’s weird.”
“What’s weird is that you think that’s weird. I’ve seen everything. I’ve seen your pussy glisten.”
“Oh my God, Ryland.”
He chuckles. “I just want to know how your bruises are doing.”
“Can’t you take my word for it?”
He shakes his head. “No, I can’t.”
“Ryland—”
“I was thinking about practice and what we’re going to do this week, and I want to see if you can handle it. I’m not going to take your word for it because I know you’d lie, so let me see.”
Irritated, I walk up right in front of him, slip my hands into my shorts, and push them down to the floor. To my surprise, he moves his bowl of ice cream to the side and sets me on the table.
With hands on both knees, he spreads my legs and looks up at me.
“Um . . . sir?”
“Yeah?” he asks.
“Is this really how you’re going to examine me?”
“Are you complaining?”
