Page 95 of Do You Take This Man

RJ

I TUCKED THEsigned marriage license in my bag and shook hands with the couple again, wishing them well. Penny handed me the pen we’d used and shook her head. “Are you sure you want to leave all this?” She motioned around to the reception, already bouncing with music and drinks after just forty-five minutes. The terrace was beautiful, and the waves crashing against the shore provided the perfect backdrop for the party.

“Yep. I’ll miss some of it, though.”

“You mean some people?”

“The text I’ve received from you more often than anything else was ‘You’re killing me.’ ”

“I meant Lear.”

I glanced around, looking for him by the bar or near the DJ, but he was nowhere in sight.

“You’re not going to say anything?” She lightly punched my arm and laughed, but I inspected my nails.

I didn’t know what to say to her. Hell, I didn’t know what to say to Lear, but the way he’d looked at me during the ceremony... it was something. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Penny stepped forward and held out her hand. I loved that she didn’t dive into a hug. “I expected nothing less. I will miss you, RJ.”

“Hey.” Lear’s fingers grazed my bare shoulder, and Penny winked before stepping away.

I rolled my shoulders back before facing him. “Hey.”

He smelled good, like sandalwood and sunscreen, and I wondered if we could fast-forward through this, go find a supply closet, and let things play out.

“Can we talk?”

“We could pretend we talked and then not talk,” I said, my fingers itching to reach for him, to stroke his forearm and find a hidden spot somewhere so we could skip this part, the talking part, because a lingering fear rippled through me that I’d mess this part up and he’d say no again.

His eyes dipped to my lips, and I was pretty sure he was thinking the same thing, but they flicked back up. “I think this time we need to actually talk.”

I nodded toward the beach, and he motioned for me to lead, his fingertips brushing my lower back. “We’re better at not talking.”

His chuckle next to me as we moved away from the music soothed some of the anxiety within me, and we took the short staircase down to the beach. “I know. We’re great at not talking.”

Memories of kisses and touches, of him covering my mouth to stay quiet, and the way his hands felt traversing the lines of my body—“great” was really an understatement. I’d swapped out my normal heels for flat sandals, and I missed the advantage of the added inches. When I was standing up straight, my eyes were only level with his chin. It was a nice chin, but I looked out to the ocean instead, waiting for him to talk.

“I’m sorry I said those things,” he began, and I noticed him shoving his hands in his pockets. “I... I don’t have a good excuse. I was scared.”

I held up a hand. “I think this is actually where I need to apologize. Not you. I actually don’t think I deserve a second chance. I washot and cold with you because... well, hot was too scary. Hot was too big, and cold was familiar. It’s what I’ve gotten used to.”

The sky held on to the last vestiges of orange as sunset faded into night, and the stars twinkled over the horizon. “I’m sorry I ignored you. That’s always worked for me.” I ignored men, and they went away before I had to care about them. “Maybe it didn’t work. Maybe it was just easier.”

“Maybe we both have some stuff to work on.” The wind picked up, and Lear slipped out of his jacket, handing it to me.

“Probably.” My instinct was to decline, accept being a little cold instead of taking the help, but instead I thanked him and slipped my arms into the sleeves. We paused, nearing the edge of the wet sand, where the surf rolled in, a cool breeze blowing off the water.

“When you invited me up, I wanted to say yes, I just...”

I shook my head and placed my palm on his chest to stop him. “I shouldn’t have done that. You had a lot on your mind. I got caught up with what I was feeling.”

A tiny grin crossed his face. “Is that your way of saying defeating me in soccer and bowling turned you on so much you couldn’t think straight?”

I took in the warmth of his hard chest under my hand, the way my hand looked over his heart. “No, I’m used to winning. It was the waffles.”

The wind whipped around us, along with the sounds of the surf crashing against the shore and the hum and low bump of the speakers in the distance. Lear’s jacket surrounded me, and his smell—spicy and clean—filled my nostrils. “I’ve missed you, RJ.”

I examined the long shadows on his face and the way his lips quirked when I bit my lip. It was the Lear I’d had in front of me for months. The Lear I hadn’t always seen. “Call me Ruthie.”

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