Page 4 of Coming For Her Curves
“So?” Caroline asks.
“So what?” I ask her even though I can guess what she’s asking me about. Or should I say who.
She crosses her arms over her chest and taps her foot. “So? Did you see him?”
I play dumb because Caroline is just too easy. And she’s fun to mess with. “See who?”
I know exactly who she’s talking about. It seems like the whole damn town is talking about Ryker Kirby returning to Whiskey Run. Most people just mention him in passing, but the people who knew us in high school ask more detailed questions as if I’m going to have the answers or something. I know nothing. Hell, I haven’t even seen him.
I ignored the rumors about rehab. I may not know him now, but there's no way he's changed that much. He didn't do drugs; he was against them. Shamelessly, I did look up the GM’s daughter. She's beautiful, and I waited, preparing myself to hear that he was getting married or something.
But that rumor was quickly squashed.
People have seen him. Hell, it feels like everyone in town except me has seen Ryker.
Caroline rolls her eyes, and I can feel her frustration coming off her in waves. “He was at the basketball game the other night.”
“No, he wasn't,” I reply instantly.
She laughs, and I roll my eyes. If he was there, I would have known. There would have been some kind of commotion or something because anywhere Ryker Kirby goes, he doesn’t go unnoticed. Besides being handsome, he’s a big man with muscles, charm, and big blue eyes. The man stands out. “He wasn’t there.”
She shrugs. “Trust me, my sources say he was there. He was off in the shadows, but as soon as he was spotted, he bolted.”
I ignore her. I can’t stop thinking of Ryker, and the fact that everyone is talking about him makes it even worse.
As soon as I clock out for my lunch break, I put on my coat, grab my sack lunch, and head out the back door. I know I’m going to hear it from Caroline because we usually eat together, but I need some time alone. After my last appointment, Dr. Bricks pulled me to the side and informed me that Mr. Jamison passed away this morning. He was easily one of my favorite patients. We saw him at least three times a week for the past year when he would come to the office for dialysis. He wasn’t a candidate for a transplant, and I knew this time was coming, but it’s still hard. I just need some time to myself. Caroline will understand when I explain.
I walk downtown past the wishing fountain and sit down on the empty bench. I set my lunch box on the bench beside me, and then I lean back and close my eyes. I take a few deep breaths, trying to center myself when I feel someone sit down on the opposite end of the bench. I’m wiping at my eyes when I hear my name. “Izzy.”
I gasp, my eyes fly open, and I’m not prepared to see Ryker Kirby sitting next to me. Speechless, all I can do is stare at him. He's even better looking in person. I compare him to the boy I remember, and he's built now. He's bigger, fuller, and older. He’s sitting up tall, taking up a big portion of the bench, and he’s looking at me with a worried expression on his face.
“Izzy,” he says again.
I sit up a little taller and tug at my top that suddenly feels too tight. “Isabel,” I correct him.
He smiles softly at me. “Honey, you'll always be Izzy to me.”
I guess this is it. I guess we’re doing it. I was wondering when I would see him, and now it’s happening. He’s going to see that I’ve packed on weight since the last time I saw him. He’s going to see that I’m not the same carefree woman that I once was. I mutter, “I heard you moved back to town.”
He nods, staring at me. “I did. I bought that house on Maple. The one with the white picket fence and the tree swing.”
I gasp. I know exactly what house he's talking about. He knew I loved that house. I start to stutter and have to take a breath to get the whole sentence out. “There’s, uh, there's not a tree swing anymore.”
I leave off the part where the tree swing was taken down a few years ago. Yeah, through the years, I’ve driven by that house just to look at it. It always brought back good memories to me, and I’ve needed that more lately than ever.
He rubs his big hand across the stubble on his chin. “I put the swing back up.”
Instantly I think about the time we were in high school and snuck onto that property to swing. That night we talked about our future and wanting to live in that house.
Overwhelmed, I scoot over, putting some distance between us. “What are you doing here in Whiskey Run, Ryker?”
He puts a hand on the spot I just moved from. “Do you really want to know?”
I nod and hold my breath. I want to know, but I don’t know why I feel nervous about it.
He leans toward me. We’re not touching. Heck, not even close, but it’s like I can still feel the heat coming off him. “I came for you,” he says softly.
My hand goes to my chest, right over my heart. “You came for me?”
