He was oblivious, as he should be. As their friendship dictated.
So, on a deep breath, she followed him out through the living room and into the open kitchen. There was a plastic-wrapped plate on the counter with pancakes and half a grapefruit. Usually Grandma didn’t cook for her, but shealwaysfussed over Ty.
Growing up, sometimes her other friends had asked her if she was jealous of how Grandma treated Ty, but Lara had never felt that. For one thing, her grandmother had been forced into becoming her parent—so it was just different than a lot of grandparent-grandchild relationships. For another, Ty had never been fussed over in his house. His mother had died when he was a baby, and all he’d been given was a terrible dad.
Lara unwrapped the plate, stuck the pancakes in the microwave, not daring to look back at the living room where she could hear Ty moving around. “What are your plans for the day?” she asked conversationally, hoping that rustling sound was him putting on a shirt.
“I’m coming with you to the museum.”
“Oh.” She pulled her plate out then with some trepidation moved for the table. When she glanced his way, she winced. Still without shirt. “Why?” Not that she didn’t have some things for him to do that would keep him busy and far away from Bruce Wagner.
“Mary Lou said she’s got some odd jobs for me to do around the museum while I’m here. Earn my keep.” Hefinallypulled his t-shirt shirt on, followed by the sweatshirt he’d been wearing last night.
Lara knew her grandmother well enough to know it was to keep Ty busy and away from his father—just like she’d thought herself—not earning any kind of keep. But no one needed to say that out loud.
She ate one of the pancakes. “You want the rest?” It was an old habit, sharing food with him because his father hadn’t always provided a growing boy enough. And then when baseball had gotten particularly serious in his teens, Ty spent way too much time—to her way of thinking—trying to make his body absolutely perfect for baseball.
Boy is it perfect.
She couldn’t look at him, so she shoved the plate in his general direction when he came into the kitchen area.
“You didn’t eat much.”
“I’m going to stop by the coffee shop on the way in and order a shake masquerading as coffee. Enough calories for ten breakfasts.”
He made a considering kind of noise, but he finished off her pancakes while she went and did her hair and makeup. Lara grabbed her coat in a nod to the cool fall temperatures, and then they pushed outside together.
The late morning was crisp and beautiful and perfect. They had to stop and have conversations about Ty’s return with a few different people before they made it to the coffee shop. She ordered her s’mores travesty, as Ty called it, and got him a plain black coffee.
“So boring,” she told him as she handed him the to-go cup. An old familiar conversation that made her feel…good. Happy.
She’d missed him, whether she ever let herself admit that when he was gone. Having him home wasalwaysa good thing.
They walked along the beach and Lara lead Ty up to the back entrance of the museum. They tossed their now-empty coffee cups in the trashcan next to the door and then Lara fished her keys out of her purse.
Since it was the employee-only entrance, it was locked at all times, even with Grandma upstairs. The lock turned as easily as it always did, but when she pushed, nothing happened.
She frowned at the door for a moment. “That’s weird.” She turned the knob, and pushed again, but nothing happened.
“Here, I’ve got it.” Ty reached forward, placing his palm against the door. She was still holding onto the knob, so they were close. She should have moved out of the way, but even his impressive muscles couldn’t seem to budge the door open, so they had to work together, facing each other, lodging their shoulders against the firmly stuck door until something creaked.
Then they were both tumbling forward.
She couldn’t find purchase, except Ty’s arms came around her as she lost her footing, and instead of falling onto hard floor, she fell right on top of him.
He laughed, his arms around her. Her just…laid out on a very sturdy wall of impressive musclefeelingthe rumble of his laugh against her body.
She could not breathe. She must have gotten the wind knocked out of her. It was the only explanation she was willing to entertain at the moment.
“I’ll scrounge up some WD-40, huh?” With ease, he maneuvered her off him and got to his feet and then helped her up. His hand was large and calloused and he hefted her to her feet with that same physicality he’d maneuvered her off him.
She was absolutely mute. She didn’t think she could breathe.
And he didn’t let her hand go even once she was on her feet. So they stood there, a bit like strangers shaking hands. Except for the part where her cheeks were hot and her heartbeat was an erratic pinball machine through her body and when she met his gaze, the blue was dark and stormy.
That little storm drew out—neither one of them looking away or dropping the hand hold.
Until Grandma’s voice echoed down the stairs.
