Page 235 of Love in Riverbend
Ricky smiles down at me and back to Bryce. “For most of our lives—hers, at least.”
When we step away, Ricky lowers his voice. “Obviously, you broke up with him. Because no one would pick her over you.”
I scoff. “I think there’ve been four or five between me and Beth.”
“He still likes you.”
Remembering what Devan said about men I don’t like, I grin. “Who was that again?”
By the time the dinner is complete and people are beginning to disperse, Ricky and I have made our way around the room, talking to the partners, members of the talent acquisition team, and other candidates. I hadn’t considered Ricky’s age until we met more of the candidates. Mrs. Stevens had a point about how young they all are.
Back at the coat check, Ricky helps me with my coat, leaning down and whispering in my ear. “I said I owe you. When would you like to collect?”
Warmth fills my cheeks, because I’m certain he’s not thinking about the same kinds of reparations as I am. “No need. Take me home and we can wave to each other once you’re working in the firm.”
Ricky reaches for the lapels of my wool coat, tugging me closer, filling my field of vision until he’s all I can see. “I don’t want to wave at you.”
Perhaps it’s the alcohol we’ve consumed or the high from everyone’s reaction to Ricky, but I’ve forgotten about last night, and my confidence is returning. “What do you want?”
“How about I take you out for a celebration?”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah, we could go to any of the restaurants around here.”
“You could come to my place.”
Ricky brings his lips together. “Are you inviting me?”
I nod. “No strings. Just a more private celebration.”
Chapter 15
Ricky
My heartbeat echoes in my ears, giving an erratic cadence to the otherwise silence within my car. Neither one of us has said much since we began driving. Peering to my right, I notice the way Marilyn’s hands rest in her lap, the way she stares out the side window, and the way the sweet scent of her perfume fills my senses.
Standing at the coat check, I wanted to lean in and kiss her.
From the low I felt as I was dressing for the dinner to now, my emotions have taken a drastic swing, a pendulum of sorts. Part of me worries that another violent shift is in the making.
Private celebration.
If only I knew for sure what she was thinking.
It’s kind of ridiculous that a thirty-five-year-old man is unsure where the night will go. With anyone else, I would catch whatever is being thrown my way. The thing is, Marilyn isn’t anyone else. I don’t want to fuck this up.
Parking outside her apartment building, I hurry around to the other side of the car. She has the door open; I swing it wider and offer her my hand. My fingers encase hers as she stands. The sounds of the chilled night disappear as she leans against me, her chin raised and soft lips pursed.
“I don’t want to fu?—”
Splaying her fingers against my chest, Marilyn pushes upward, silencing me with the sweet warmth of her kiss. I frame her cheeks with my hands, turning her face and deepening our kiss. All night long, I’ve dreamed of kissing her like this. It’s been a hunger eating away at me, with each smile or comment she’s given me. One or two steps, and I have her backed against my car, my hips pressing into hers.
Marilyn moves her hands upward, her fingers weaving through my hair.
She’s as hungry for this as I am.
Unlike many years ago, there’s no awkwardness, no fumbling with noses hitting or uncertainty.
