“Definitely more human than robot,” he said, holding his hands out toward her. “Come on now, let’s get you up and over to the table so I can massage out the kinks.”
Grasping her hands, he helped her stand, making sure he supported her weight until she’d found stability. With his arm around her waist so she wouldn’t require her cane, they walked across the room to the massage table. And every step of the way, that buzz in his gut grew stronger and more persistent. More insistent that he needed to pay close attention to this woman.
Ryan shook off the sensation and, once Andrea was situated properly, rolled the loose band of her shorts up so he could start at her thigh. “Talk to me,” he said as he gently kneaded his fingers into the damaged muscle, knowing even this would cause some discomfort, if not outright pain. “Tell me anything you want. Trivial or important. Just talk, makes this go faster.”
Silence enveloped the room, and for a minute Ryan doubted she’d play along. But then, she said, “My aunt is having a barbecue get-together thing on Saturday to welcome me. My cousins and their spouses, kids, will all be there. And all told, there’s a lot of them. I don’t know my cousins very well. I mean, we’re Facebook friends. But...a lot of people. A lot of talking. I’m exhausted just thinking about it.” A small, whispery sigh emerged. “Seems pointless.”
“What does? The food? Spending time with family?” Ryan had a strong idea of what she meant, but he wanted to see if she’d explain, if she’d let him in that much. “Or maybe you just have a problem with delicious grilled meats and vegetables?”
She laughed and, oh, what a sound. Joyful and spontaneous and...real. Or so Ryan thought, anyway. “I’m actually quite the fan of grilled anything. It’s the...questions, I guess. The constant well-meaning questions about what happened, how I’m feeling, and with so many people there, I’ll likely have to repeat the same answers a dozen times.”
“Make it simple,” he said, moving his hands down her leg, applying pressure in gentle yet firm increments as he did. If she winced or showed any sign of too much discomfort, he lightened the pressure. “Just say you’d rather not talk about the incident, but you’re feeling stronger every day. Or whatever word you’d prefer. Better. Healthier. Happier. Take your pick. I doubt your family will insist on more explanation than you’re willing to give.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know them well enough to say.”
“Invite me, then,” Ryan said. Hmm. Where had that come from? He didn’t know, hadn’t pre-thought the idea out, but it settled nice enough. “I also happen to be a fan of grilled anything and better yet, I can act as your buffer. Folks will be too curious about me to ask questions.”
“Really? You’d do that?” As she spoke, she pulled herself to a sitting position. That was fine, he’d done enough for the moment. Her muscles needed to rest some now. “Must be for the food, because I can’t imagine this is a service you offer all of your clients.”
“No,” he said, wiping his hands on a towel, “acting as a buffer is not a service I typically offer. And it isn’t about the food, as good as it will be, I’m sure.”
“Then...why?”
“Why ask why?” he said, not sure of the answer himself. Other than he wanted to be there, at Andi’s side. Pay attention to his instincts. “Just accept and...invite me to the darn barbecue already. I have Saturday free, surprisingly, which is somewhat unusual as of late.”
“You need to tell me why,” she said, her voice and shoulders firm. “Because I’m not a...a charity case, and while having a buffer sounds appealing, it certainly isn’t necessary.”
“I like barbecues. I like meeting new people. Most of all,” he said, while looking her straight in the eyes, “I think we’ll have a stronger working relationship if we get to know each other a little better. We’ll be at this all summer, Andi. Why not become friends in the process?”
One blink, then another. A slight, somewhat dubious shake of her head. “I know what you’re up to. You’re still angling to get inside my head. Friends or not, that won’t happen. But as long as you can accept that, then why not? You’re welcome to come on Saturday.”
“Sure thing,” he said as he walked over to where they’d left her cane. When he returned with cane in hand, he grinned. “But why don’t we set that concern aside for now? Even if I ask you more questions about what goes on inside your head—and I’m likely to at some point—don’t forget that you are in control. You never have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
“Good. Glad we’re on the same page.” She slid to the edge of the table and tentatively stood, reached for the cane. “So. Okay, then. I guess I’ll see you Saturday.”
Hmm. For her to forget their appointment on Friday meant she was rattled on some level, even if her demeanor and voice didn’t state so. “Friday first,” he reminded her. “Same time, same place. Basically the same regimen, though I plan on making a few alterations.”
Light pink coated her cheeks. “Right. Friday first, of course. I...I’ll be here.” Then, with as much swiftness as she could manage, she made for the exit. Much as she had yesterday.
Sighing, Ryan wiped down the table and, for the moment, put his curiosity and attraction toward Andrea Caputo on the back burner. He had a full day in front of him. His next client, Robert Alvarez, was set to arrive in fifteen minutes. Every bit of his focus had to be centered on work, on his clients’ needs and not on a lovely auburn-haired woman who had—in very short order—breathed life into a part of him that he hadn’t even realized was asleep.
Interesting. Compelling and curious and, perhaps, somewhat exciting. Descriptions that pretty much summed up the woman herself, at least from Ryan’s perspective. Later, when the day was done, he’d give more thought to Andi, to his reaction toward her, and decide what he wanted to do about both. Until then, he had plenty to keep him busy.
* * *
Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny, with barely a cloud in the sky. Andrea had hoped for rain. A booming thunderstorm, complete with golf-ball-sized hail. Anything, really, to postpone the barbecue or, better yet, cancel it altogether. Of course, canceling would require a hell of a lot more than your basic thunderstorm.
Armageddon might do the trick.
She’d never been one for socializing with large groups of people, even before last December. Oh, she used to be able to summon the proper amount of energy to appear comfortable, even extroverted, when attending parties, weddings and the like. But she would then require a good chunk of the next day to be by herself to recharge her batteries. Now, though, the very thought of the amount of energy she would need to get through this day flattened her.
Mostly, she just wanted to be left alone in this bedroom with its fluttery white curtains and pretty eyelet bedcover, the walls painted a relaxing, barely blue and the dark, wood furnishings. She wanted to sit in the chair by the window and read a book, listen to some music or maybe doze off. If she could be so lucky.
But that would have to wait for tomorrow.
Sighing, Andi stared in the closet and tried to decide what to wear. Shorts would make the most sense, as the day ahead promised to be a warm one, but between the scars and the loss of muscle tone in her right leg, she would just feel self-conscious. And if she wanted to avoid too many questions, showing off her injuries seemed foolhardy at best.
One of her sundresses, then. Flipping through the half dozen or so she’d brought, she selected the turquoise-and-white tie-dyed dress her mother had bought her last week. The skirt was long—the hem hovering right above her ankles—and the color suited her pale skin and auburn hair. After getting dressed, she slipped on a pair of white sandals, brushed through her hair one last time