Ryan Hunter Page 9

  “Dying.”

  I liked how she made me chuckle with such simple things. “No, you’re not. Get up, we’re not done.”

  “I am,” she protested. “But don’t mind me. You just go on. I’m sure in a few hours someone will come and scrape me off the pavement.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Dig me out of the sand. Whatever.”

  Laughing about her antics, I squatted down and started to untie her shoes for what was to come next. We weren’t done yet.

  “Hey, what the heck—” She pulled her leg away. “You don’t steal from a dying person.”

  I surrendered, lifting my hands, palms up. “Fine, then take them off yourself.”

  “What?” Her mouth sagged open as she propped on her elbows in the sand and looked at me with wide eyes. “Why?” Then her gaze moved to the sea and her lips spread in a hopeful grin. “We’re going to take a swim now to cool off after the training?”

  “Nope,” I said, though she put a very beguiling thought in my head right then. I could be swayed to some fooling around in the water with her. But then this would be too much of a temptation. Kisses came along with such nonsense. And I had sworn to myself that I wouldn’t do that until she knew the truth about Mitchell. After a longing glance at the sea, I faced her again and said with a firm voice that wouldn’t get me into trouble, “The little run was only warm-up. The training begins here.”

  All color disappeared from her face. “You can’t be serious.”

  “What are you willing to bet on it?”

  She grimaced and sighed, but I’d figured out by now, my word counted to her, and she slipped her shoes off to hide them with mine by the rocks. I wondered if it was just the captain she saw in me, or if she wanted to make a good impression because she saw me, the nice guy, and therefore stuck with me.

  Only a few minutes later, she made clear I wasn’t a nice guy to her as she shot me a look filled with loathing. “Do your parents know about this sadistic side of yours?”

  I remembered the first time that I had run on the beach for training. Her calves probably hurt like mad. But she had to get through this. We wanted to turn her into a kick-ass soccer player. I tugged gently at her high ponytail. “What can I say? You bring out my best side.”

  “Ah, great. I feel so special now.” Liza shoved my shoulder, and I laughed as I struggled to steady myself with my feet sinking into the soft sand. “How far are we going?” she demanded.

  “I never ran this route before, but I guess it’s about a half-mile. You know the houses at Misty Beach?”

  “Your parents own a house down there?”

  “Yep.” It was a nice little thing compared to the mansion we lived in, and I really liked to come out here after training on weekends and study or read on the wrap-around veranda. My dad had set up a porch swing for Rachel and me when we were kids, and it was the perfect place to relax and enjoy a warm summer day.

  We still had a bit of a way in front of us, and when Misty Beach came into view, I thought Liza wouldn’t endure another step. She licked her lips, and her lungs made a weird, gasping sound. “I swear I’m going to drink up the ocean,” she cried.

  “Chin up, Matthews. We’re almost there.” I grabbed her upper arm when she stumbled and didn’t let her stop just yet, dragging her along with me the last few meters. As I led her up to our bungalow, her face lit up, seriously proud of herself. And I was, too.

  There was always a set of keys in the potted plant on the broad railing. I fished them out and let us in. The door slammed shut behind us.

  While Liza stood rooted in the living room, her gaze traveling over the couch, wide-screen TV, and especially over the bookshelf, I headed into the sun-fused kitchen. From the fridge, I grabbed two bottles of water and tossed one at Liza.

  She guzzled the water down as if she came equipped with a camel hump, then she wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “So, great tormentor, why did we run on the beach? Was it just for your personal pleasure to see me suffer?”

  My personal pleasure would be to see her strip naked right now. Rolling my eyes at her, I smiled. “Why do you think so badly of me?”

  “I don’t know.” She left her spot on the wall and leaned her delicious butt against the backrest of the couch. As she folded her arms over her chest, it gave her words that sweet edge of sarcasm. “Maybe because I lost my lungs somewhere on the way? Or because my legs are on fire?”

  “Oh, come on now,” I teased her. “We jogged over two miles and you’re still standing. That’s great. And running in the sand will strengthen your legs a lot better than the pavement. Since we only run on grass at soccer, you need to get used to the additional—”

  “Torture?”

  Smart-ass. “Exactly.” I walked toward her and gently swiped her sweaty bangs out of her eyes. Every time I touched her, I could think about nothing else than a first, tender kiss. Something in her look told me she was becoming aware of it, too. Breaking our locked gazes, I took the empty bottle out of her hands and tossed it along with mine into the trashcan. Then I stiffened at the sound of footsteps on the porch.

  Shit. That was my mom.

  My glance skidded to the door then back at Liza. Not a good moment to have her here. Liza seemed equally shocked, but maybe just because I sort of panicked right in front of her. There was not time for an explanation. As my mom’s key rattled in the lock, I started toward Liza and tried not to hurt her when I knocked her backward over the couch. We landed on the cushions together, then I rolled to the side and pulled her down to the hard wooden floor with me, out of my mom’s sight. Hands down, Liza landing on top of me was the summit of my dreams, but it also pushed all air out of my lungs.

  As she scowled down at me, I could feel her warm breath on my face, and it made me harden underneath her. So not what I had planned, dammit. I clamped down on my jaw and fought for control. But I didn’t think she noticed, although something in her expression softened for a millisecond. Like she was surprised about what she saw there in my eyes.

  “Who is it?” she hissed, then and her gaze turned annoyed once again.

  “Can only be my mom,” I whispered back and suppressed a moan then shoved her off of me. It was safer for both of us if she didn’t stay on top of me in this unbelievable turn-me-on position. I squeezed her in between the couch and me and placed one hand over her mouth to keep her silent while my mom carried several boxes into the kitchen. “She’s stocking the fridge.”

  As my lips brushed against her ear, Liza closed her eyes. Her warm breath caressed the back of my hand. I smiled. Enjoying it, was she? What the hell stopped me from kissing around her ear a little just to make her sigh like that again? Ah right, noise drifting from behind the couch did.

  A few seconds later, Liza pulled my hand away from her lips. “Why are we hiding here?”

  Because things like girls were a complicated issue with my folks and me. “My parents don’t like me bringing random girls to this place. Unless you want to be introduced as my girlfriend, I suggest you stay down.”

  She didn’t move. Okay, being introduced as my girlfriend wasn’t her goal, however much it was mine. But I really didn’t want to answer questions from my mom, so I appreciated Liza’s silent agreement.

  It didn’t take long until my mom was done and left the bungalow. Just to be sure, I waited another minute before I got to my feet.

  Liza breathed a relieved sigh. She wouldn’t take my hand when I offered to help her up, but remained lying, legs bent, feet on the floor, and folded her arms behind her head. “You sure your dad isn’t on his way, too?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” Silly little girl. She always made me laugh with her cynicism. “He never comes here during the week.” Ignoring her belligerent behavior, I reached down for her hand and pulled. “Get up.”

  Rising, she patted invisible dust off her bum. “Next time you feel the need to knock me over, I’d appreciate a little warning first.”

  If that is all it takes to drag her down with me�
�� “Gotcha!”

  I went to the bathroom in the back of the house, right next to my bedroom, and fetched a fresh towel from the shelf. Walking back to the front, I wiped my face and neck with it then tossed it at Liza so she could towel off, too.

  She caught it, then looked at the terry cloth with a wry face. “Ew.”

  Ew? Seriously? I stopped, turning to her, and wanted to tell her that she was now a soccer player and not running for Miss California.

  But her snappy tongue was faster than mine. “I don’t know how a little running together got us to that level of intimacy.”

  It just does. Deal with it. She got my arching of a brow as an answer and, ignoring her grimace, I walked out on the porch and slumped down on the swing. It took only half a minute until she followed me, and hey, she was rubbing her neck with my used towel.

  She tossed it back at me with a hard thrust. I caught it before the bundle smacked me in the face.

  “Let’s go back,” she muttered.

  Already? I didn’t want to just yet. “Are we in a hurry, Matthews?”

  She looked around uncomfortably, clearly not in the mood to hang out in the swing, then decided to park her sexy body against the post next to the wooden steps that led down to the beach. “Not really. But I won’t stay in a place where I have to sign a marriage license to be welcome,” she snapped.

  Was she still scared because of my mom? “She won’t come back.”

  “I don’t care.” She cast me a glare that spelled Come back with me or drop dead.

  “Fair enough. Let me just get the ball, then we can go.” I stood and walked back to my room for the soccer ball that I always kept there in case some friends came down here with me and we wanted to play on the beach. I stuffed it into a backpack together with bottle of water and the towel that lay on the swing.

  Shouldering the load, I dumped the keys back into the potted plant and ushered Liza down the steps. She didn’t look like she’d cope with running another couple of miles, so we ambled back instead.

  The sky cleared from rosy to blue, and it was nice to walk barefoot in the sand, with the water brushing around my ankles, and with my girl strolling besides me. I wanted to reach out and take her hand, oh damn, so terribly much. But she seemed a little stiff since we’d left the beach house, so I didn’t dare push my luck.

  “Why did you bring the ball?” she asked after a while of silent walking.

  “You need to practice kicking and catching. The beach is perfect for that.”

  We reached the rocks where we’d hidden our shoes and put them on. Then I told her to stay put while I jogged some thirty feet back and got the ball out from my backpack. “I want you to stop the ball,” I shouted at her before I kicked.

  But all she did was shriek and catch the ball with her arms to her chest. What the heck— “This is soccer. You’re not supposed to use your hands,” I told her. “Kick it back.”

  She cast me a wary look and kicked the ball back at me. Not only did she raise a sandstorm with it, but the ball also missed me by ten feet. The girl was going to need quite a bit of coaching. But I was totally up to it. I jogged to the ball and kicked hard.

  Liza caught it again.

  I cut a glance to the sky and rubbed my palms over my face. “No hands, Matthews!”

  We shot back and forth a third time, and now she simply stepped aside and let the ball race past her. She couldn’t be serious.

  “What was that?” I shouted as I jogged over to her.

  “You said no hands,” Liza snapped. “Want me to catch it with my teeth or what?”

  “I strongly suggest you don’t do that.” We didn’t want her to lose that pretty smile. “During a game you will have to stop the ball. But you’re not allowed to use your hands. So you use your body to block it. Your shoulders, or head, but mostly your chest.”

  “Aha. There’s only one problem with that.” She cupped her boobs with both hands. “I’ve got these!”

  I couldn’t believe that she just did that. A girl should never touch her own boobs when a guy was present…unless she wanted to strike him dumb and ruin any change of ordinary conversation for him. I gulped, as my mouth and throat went dry, and couldn’t look at anything else than the nice handful she held.

  She let go of her jugs and said meaningless shit to me, but I guessed she didn’t like me staring at her when drool came out of my mouth. Slowly and with a smirk, I tore my gaze away from that delicious part of her body and looked at her red face.

  “Enough training for one morning.” Her croak betrayed her, and I happened to really enjoy that. She looked away, digging her toe into the sand. “I want to be back before my mom finds out I’m gone.”

  That was fine with me. But I didn’t let her get off the first training day so easily. With some protesting, she finally agreed that we run at least half the way back then walk the rest to cool-down. As we reached her house, she suddenly pulled me across the street and behind a tree. I followed like a well-trained puppy, totally ready to make out with her in that hiding place. But she didn’t even think about it.

  With her back pressed against the tree, she leaned carefully to the side and spied around the tree. When she snapped back into an upright position, she glanced at the sky and whined, “I’m so screwed.”

  I looked around the tree, too. Okay, so somebody was walking around in a room downstairs, and that room was close to the front door. Could be worse. I nudged her chin with the knuckle of my finger and made her look at me. “Do you always give up that quickly?”

  “Apparently, you don’t,” she retorted. “So what do you suggest?”

  Easy. “We get you inside the same way we got you out.”

  Liza narrowed her eyes at me. “The window?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Tony has been climbing in and out there for years. But I don’t see how I can do it.”

  Say that again! My heart refused to take the next beat, and I couldn’t help it when my face turned into an annoyed scowl. “Mitchell has been climbing into your room?”

  “Yes. But I need a ladder to get onto the roof of the shed. And as far as I know, we don’t have a ladder.”

  Stop and rewind. Mitchell used to climb into her room? “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  Come on, stay focused, girl! “Why does he climb through your window?”

  “Can we please stay focused?”

  That’s what I’m doing, dammit!

  “I’m grounded and I need to break into my own house,” she snarled, not answering my question.

  I wanted to growl at her, grab her shoulders, and forbid that Mitchell ever did that again. But she seemed really desperate to get back inside, and I felt bad, seeing her troubled like this. So I swallowed past my irritation and nodded. “All right. Come on.” Grabbing a fistful of her white top, I hauled her across the street. No one seemed to be anywhere near a window, so we were safe.

  On the other side, she quickly hid behind the shed, scanning the garden for her parents.

  I scanned it, too, but for a way to get her upstairs. The tree would work. “I believe Mitchell climbs up there to get onto the roof?”

  “Um, yes.” Her gaze skated to me. “But you aren’t asking me to climb a tree now, are you?”

  No, hun, I’m asking you to fly. I suppressed that sarcastic comment, because she looked worried enough, and tested the edge of the shed’s roof with my weight instead. As I hung on it, no board cracked, so I guessed we were good to go. “Come here, Matthews.”

  She watched me as I took a position underneath the roof’s edge. “What are you doing?”

  “Giving you a lift.” Lacing my fingers, I hoped she’d been given a leg before and knew how this worked.

  “No way,” she almost screamed, which was funny, because her mother might just have heard that.

  “Don’t be a baby,” I dared her. It had worked this morning when I wanted to her to climb out, so I was confident to hit a sensitive spot with her again. “I
already proved I can carry you, remember? Twice.”

  She looked over her shoulder one last time then came forward and planted her hands on my shoulders, exhaling a deep sigh. Yeah, that was my girl. I went a little lower so we were on eye level to make it easier for her. “Ready?”

  Her grip tightened on my shoulders. “Not at all.”

  “See you tomorrow.” I pushed her up, and when she landed flat on her stomach on the roof, I shoved her further up by her feet.

  She got on her knees first, then on her feet, and walked over to her open window. At least it didn’t trouble her to climb back inside. But the look she gave me when she turned around was none too happy. “I don’t think we should do this again.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m dead if my parents catch me.”

  “They won’t.”

  “What if?”

  “Matthews, they won’t,” I growled, not intending to let her off our deal. Training with her had been too nice today. “Now shut up and go have a shower.”

  Her jaw hardened to a frustrated grimace. “I’m not coming tomorrow. There’s training anyway. I won’t survive two rounds of torture on the same day.”

  “Yeah. Right.” After what I saw of her endurance today, I totally agreed to that. I wanted to spend time with her, not kill her. But the deal was still intact. “Wednesday. Five o’. Be dressed this time. And, Matthews—” I smirked at her, just so she got me right. “Don’t make me climb up there and fetch you.”

  Because I sure as hell would come and carry her out draped over my shoulder if I had to.

  Chapter 8

  BACK IN MY room, I wondered if Mitchell made good on his promise to hang out with Liza today. Though it was good for them if they made up, I really disliked the thought of him climbing through her window and lounging on her bed, watching films with her. In fact, it bothered me all day, and I found myself prowling through the house like a restless tiger. Not even playing video games with Justin in the afternoon could take my thoughts off Liza and Tony. My possessiveness grew and left me in a state where I might have broken all his fingers if he dared to even touch her.