Page 38 of Change of Plans

She gestured to the basket of rolls, and he obediently took one, popping half of it into his mouth. It was buttery and yeasty, and he immediately reached for the little container of refrigerated butter pats she’d set on the table.

“These are amazing. You’ll have to give my mom the recipe.” He spoke between bites, slathering butter on the roll with his knife.

“No way. Patty bakes everything better than I do, and a gal’s gotta have some dishes she makes better than anyone else. That’s what my mom always told me. She’d say, ‘Bryce, honey, fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but don’t you be giving anyone a shortcut. Keep your best recipes to yourself.’” Bryce took another bite, then shook her head, her eyes soft with memory. “Do you know my mom still won’t give me her recipe for her chili? It’s Dad’s favorite, and she won an award at the Florida State Fair one year for it. The blue ribbon still hangs in her kitchen, right above her spice rack.”

“I’d like to meet her sometime,” Ryker ventured, then shoveled another bite of steak into his mouth, playing for time as Bryce’s blue-gray gaze speared him. He wasn’t sure why she’d paused at his words, so he blundered on. “I love chili. Maybe I can get her to give the recipe to me? My mom gave Kate her recipe for Pumpkin Maniac cupcakes, and she still hasn’t given it to my Aunt Cathy, so sometimes it works if someone other than family asks.”

Bryce shrugged “She might. I worry if I don’t get the chili recipe from her soon, it might be lost forever. Dementia is a cruel, cruel disease.”

Ryker kicked himself for bringing up the subject. He’d forgotten her mother was ailing. Tentatively, he put down his utensils and reached for her hand, loving how smooth her skin felt against his.

He dredged up one of his therapist’s sayings. “It’s okay to be sad.”

“Who has the time, though?” She swiped her eye, where he was horrified to see a tear coming down.

No freaking way was he going to be responsible for bringing up shit that triggered this strong woman’s tears. He racked his brain for something, anything, to say to make her feel better. But he didn’t have Drake’s way with words. He didn’t have the suave sensitivity of Zander, either.

Ryker was just the middle brother—the jarhead turned gearhead who was more comfortable with action because it was easier than conversation. He’d opened his mouth, hoping something perfect would come tumbling out, but after an awkward beat, he closed it.

He had nothing to say to make it better.

Instead, he opened his arms to her, the tips of his fingers motioning her in. “C’mere. I got you.”

Her head and chest hit him so hard he thunked against the back of the booth until he braced himself for her unexpected hug onslaught.

“Sorry.” Her voice was muffled by his flannel shirt. “I came in a little hot, didn’t I? Do you…do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve had a hug? From anyone taller than my hips, anyway? Literally months.”

He held her, silent, worried she might cry. But all she did was sigh and burrow her nose into his neck in a way that made him both ticklish and aroused at the same time. He didn’t want to embarrass himself with the massive collection of blood vessels who’d chosen that time to gather for a frontal assault in his jockey shorts, so he cleared his throat, digging for words to distract himself from the warm, soft, very female body in his arms.

“It’s been longer for me.” He searched his memory for the last time he’d hugged or been hugged by anyone. “Not counting when Cecily hugged me at the grocery store a few weeks ago, it’s been…”

He didn’t know. His mom bussed his cheek every time he stopped by, and his brothers knew he was a big advocate for personal space. Bro handshakes or a quick one-armed hug that ended up with a fist smack into the biceps was their love language.

But a full-on hug? By a woman he wasn’t related to? His mind finally sifted through and found the memory.

“Approximately three years ago. It was Tammy Rodriguez, Paul’s wife. Widow.” He corrected himself. “We’d gathered for a dedication in his honor—a plaque at his high school alma mater along with a yearly scholarship for one student to attend art school. That’s what he was going to do when he got done with our tour—enroll in art school—and he was talented enough to do it. Tammy hugged me at the event, and that was the last time.”

Bryce pulled away but stayed in the circle of his arms, tilting up her face to look at him.

“You haven’t hugged another person in three years?”

He shook his head, unsure how to read her voice. Figuring his expression was in its usual resting bastard face, he attempted to rearrange his features into something more suitable. But after trying on a scowl, then a teensy smile, he gave up.

“Well, shit. I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me this was a hug emergency? Come here, you!” She yanked him to her, grasping him tightly.

Something about her earnestness—the fact that she wasn’t kidding at all—struck his funny bone. He felt a chuckle bubble up from his diaphragm, held it back as long as possible, not wanting to be perceived as laughing at her, but it was like a tumbling snowball of hilarity, picking up speed until bursting from his mouth in a loud belly laugh.

She pulled away, and would have released her hold around him had he not held her arms, guffawing and shaking his head in apology at the same time.

“A…hug…emergency?” he gasped out between laughs he hadn’t known were bottled up. “Is that…a thing?”

Bryce’s concern melted away, and her mouth slid into a smile. “It is when you haven’t been hugged in three years, jerk-face. I can’t believe you’re laughing at the hug-aid I’m administering here. Clearly, you need more. Stat!”

She flung her arms around his neck again, thumping him in a rough parody of the back strikes given to a choking victim.

He laughed and coughed at the same time, barely able to get enough breath.

“Uncle, uncle,” he said, weak with the goofiness of it. When was the last time he’d laughed so hard it’d made him weak? It’d been much, much longer than the last hug, he was sure. The thought sobered him, and when he felt her pull away, he let her go.

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