“Yes, but that doesn’t mean—” She broke off as her aunt’s eyes narrowed another degree. “You win. I’ll rest on my lazy behind all day while everyone else does all the work.”
“Perfect. That’s exactly what I want for you.” Margaret beamed a smile before pointing toward the front of the house. “Now, go greet your guest before he thinks we’re rude and ignoring him.”
Nodding, Andi inched her way toward the door and flat out disregarded the zealous pounding in her chest, her once-again damp palms and the swirling excitement permeating her blood. None of that meant anything. Other than that she was nervous, as she had been all week about the barbecue in general. These were symptoms of anxiety, not...attraction or genuine affection.
Couldn’t be. She knew almost nothing about Ryan Bradshaw. Besides, for the next three months, he was her physical therapist. The last thing she needed was to mistake his intense focus on her and her well-being as anything other than professional interest and care.
Logical. Rational. Sensible.
Unfortunately, the second she opened the door and laid on eyes on him, her brain stopped thinking. Because, Lord, the man looked good. Dark hair ruffled from the wind, equally dark eyes that seemed to see right through her—filled with warmth and compassion and a type of concentration that Andi felt to her core—and a beaming, bright smile. His jeans fit his long, lean form in such a way that seemed to state they were made for his body alone, and his pale yellow short-sleeved shirt was unbuttoned and untucked, showing the white T-shirt he wore beneath.
Yeah, he looked good. Enough so that Andi realized she just might be in trouble.
* * *
Prickly. Nervous. Uncomfortable. All words Ryan could use to describe Andi’s behavior since the second he’d arrived. Whether it was his presence or the gathering in general that had raised her anxiety level, or, he supposed, the combination of both, he couldn’t say. But she held her body tense, almost rigid, and while she’d kept up on her end of the conversation with him and various family members, her voice held a forced quality.
She also hadn’t truly, freely smiled even once. He liked her smile—her real smile—and wanted to see it again. So, he decided his mission for the rest of the day was to get her to relax enough that she’d be able to smile. Even just once. If he could pull a true-blue laugh from her, as well? Better yet. It seemed of utmost importance to give her a happy, carefree moment.
Several years ago now, his only sibling, his sister Nicole, had been diagnosed with breast cancer. As the disease and the treatment for the disease took its awful, awful toll, one of Ryan’s daily goals was to find something—anything—that would make his sister forget what she was going through for enough consecutive seconds to elicit a smile. Or a laugh. Or both.
He did not succeed every day, but he did on most.
Of course, with Nicole, he knew her well enough to have an idea of which tack to take. He did not know Andi well enough, so he’d have to feel his way through and hope he could figure out what might lighten the burden she was presently carrying. He did not have an arsenal of jokes at the ready, so he didn’t bother going that route. Rather, he decided to trust his instincts and start with an unconventional approach. Something that might just surprise her enough that she’d let down her guard and start to relax. He wanted her to relax.
Around her family, yes, but mostly around him. He wanted her to eventually learn that she could trust him as her physical therapist and also, hopefully, as her friend. He already knew he liked this woman. Already knew he wanted to learn more about her. And, yeah, he absolutely wanted to see that beautiful smile of hers stretch across her equally beautiful face.
At the moment, they were sitting side by side in lawn chairs under the leafy canopy of a massive tree. Some of the Fosters were playing a game of horseshoes while others were engaged with the kids, and Paul and Margaret were bustling about, starting the meal preparation in earnest. He might as well take his first swing now, see if he could manage a grand slam.
“So,” he said, in the most casual voice he could muster, “I have a proposition. Or maybe you’d call it a dare. Either one works, I guess. But if you agree without knowing all of the details, and then follow through, I’ll take you out for a night of dancing.”
“I don’t think you can call that a proposition or a dare if the details of what you want me to do aren’t made clear from the beginning.” Curiosity and caution lit her gaze, her tone. “Unless you want to play a game of Truth or Dare, but that isn’t what you said.”
Interesting idea. But...nah. “No, I’m not playing a game. Just want you to step out of your shell a little. Nothing wrong with that, and don’t worry, I wouldn’t ask you to do anything that I thought you’d find impossible or alarming.” He winked. “I’m not going to ask you to streak naked across the backyard or break into song at the top of your lungs. Promise.”
Had the corners of her lips wiggled? Maybe. If so, too small a wiggle to say for sure. “That’s good, because I wouldn’t do either. I might be willing to play along if the reward was something I wanted. But dancing? No. I don’t dance. Not anymore. Or not again, anyway.”
“Why not? You’re certainly capable. I mean, I wouldn’t suggest anything too strenuous yet, but so long as you put most of your weight on your left leg, you’d be fine.”
“I’d rather not test that supposition,” she said. “Therefore, I must decline your offer.”
“You know,” he said, angling his body toward hers, “I should’ve explained more. The point of taking you dancing isn’t so you can dance. It’s so you can see me make a fool out of myself. Because if there is one thing I cannot do, it’s dance.” He winced. “In fact, my sister says I look like a drunken elephant on ice. And that’s one of the kinder descriptions I’ve heard.”
The tiniest fraction of amusement glittered in her eyes. “Is that so? A drunken elephant on ice, huh? Kind of hard to believe, as I’ve never seen anyone dance that badly.”
“Aha! But you can. The sight of such a lack of grace is totally within your power. All you have to do is say, ‘Okay, Ryan, I agree. What is it you want me to do?’ and then actually follow through on what I ask of you. What do you think?”
“No streaking or singing involved, right?”
He crossed his heart. “That’s correct.”
Another twitch of her lips, but not a complete smile. Not yet. “Okay, sure. Why not? But remember, I haven’t given up the right to decline. Whether I do or don’t is totally my choice once I hear what you have in mind. Just so we’re absolutely clear on that front.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way. This, along with everything else that occurs between us, is one hundred percent in your control. You call the shots, Andi.”
She straightened her shoulders, tossed her mane of auburn hair behind one shoulder and jutted her chin. “I’m ready. What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to walk up to any one person here...except for me...and say ‘Bugaboo!’ three times in a row. Really fast. And in a high-pitched voice. That’s it. Easy peasy.”
One blink, then another, followed by a third. “Are you insane? Or do you just want my family to think I’m insane? Or—”
“A single word, three times in a row. That’s all it is, and you get to choose who you say it to. Come on, Andi, have a little fun. I know you can. Besides which, you really don’t want to miss the opportunity of getting me on the dance floor.”
“Anyone I want, huh?” She scraped her bottom lip with her teeth as she glanced