Page 5 of Unlucky in Love
“She is my best friend,” Taylor said, tilting her head. “It is in her job description.”
He huffed out a breath, but the edge of a smile pulled at his mouth.
Taylor pressed her advantage. “Come on, give me something. I remember you as the guy who never shut up about baseball stats. Sitting here like a broody statue does not suit you. What’s next? A black turtleneck and poetry about despair?”
Ryan stared at her for a beat before the corner of his mouth twitched. Then he laughed again, shaking his head. “A broody statue? That’s how you see me?”
She shrugged. “I call it like I see it.”
He leaned back in the booth, watching her with an expression that made her feel like he was seeing far more than she wanted him to. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
Her smile wobbled. She had changed, though. More than he could ever know. But it was easier to play along. “Neither have you. Still smug. Still bossy.”
“Still devastatingly handsome?” he asked, mock-serious.
Taylor rolled her eyes. “Do not push your luck.”
For a brief moment, it was almost easy. Comfortable. Like they hadn’t spent years avoiding each other, like there had never been a humiliating kiss when she was seventeen that she swore to forget.
But she couldn’t let herself sink into that comfort. Not with him.
She pushed up from her chair, rag dangling in her hand. “Well, statue or not, café is closed. Go home, Carter.”
Ryan stood too, unfolding his long frame from the booth. He towered over her now, broader than he had been the last time she saw him, and that quiet weight settled back into his features. “I’ll walk you home.”
Taylor blinked. “Excuse me?”
“It’s late. Not safe for you to be walking by yourself.”
She barked a laugh, genuinely amused at the idea of anyone worrying about her safety. “Ryan, I’ve been walking home alone for years. It’s two blocks. I think I can manage.”
His frown deepened. “Still. I would feel better if I walked with you.”
“I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“You might not think so—”
“Ryan.” Her voice cut him off, firmer than she expected. She set her rag on the table and crossed her arms. “My mom has been gone a long time. I’ve been on my own since I was nineteen.Believe me, if there was a problem, I would know how to handle it.”
That stopped him cold. His jaw clenched, his eyes searching hers with something raw that made her stomach twist. “You shouldn’t have to handle it alone.”
The words landed harder than she wanted them to. Taylor looked away, focusing on the counter, the chairs, anything but him. “I’m fine. Really. You can go.”
For a long moment, he didn’t move. The silence stretched, heavy and unspoken. Finally, with a reluctant nod, he stepped back.
“Fine. But at least promise you’ll lock the doors behind me.”
She forced a grin. “I manage a café. Locking doors is literally part of my job description.”
His eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned toward the door. “Goodnight, Taylor.”
“Goodnight, Ryan.”
He pushed out into the night, the doorbell chiming softly as it closed behind him. Taylor stood there for a beat, breathing in the quiet that followed, her chest tight in a way she couldn’t explain.
She shook it off.
Closing up took another twenty minutes. She counted the cash drawer, stacked chairs, wiped the counters again even though they were already spotless. Anything to keep her hands busy, to keep her thoughts from circling around the fact that Ryan Carter had been sitting in her café all day.
