Ryan gave her a nod and ducked into his cabin. Lucy could hear the back door slam shut behind him, which finally allowed her to breathe again. She fell back against the chair, realizing for the first time that she had been leaning forward, almost as if she was watching him with anticipation.
It was probably better that he was inside getting some clothes on. Two days in a row of seeing Ryan McCloud without a shirt on was affecting her, but she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Because again, yeah, sure, he was an immature hockey player, but Lucy had eyes and those eyes had seen more of Ryan's flesh in the past two days than in the past two years she had known him. No red-blooded woman could sit there and not be affected by that.
If only she had been able to downplay it instead of acting like a tongue-tied woman who freakishly stared at the hot man next door every time she saw him.
Lucy figured some Poe would settle her down a bit and turned to the book in front of her. There was a carnival going on in Italy as Montresor lured his friend into the cellar. Just as he started to describe the stupid bells on Fortunato's jester costume, Lucy heard the front door of her cabin open.
She could feel her cheeks warm with the idea of Ryan at her place again. Hearing him rummaging around her cupboards looking for a mug made her feel excited. She thought reading something as dour as Edgar Allan Poe would calm her hormones. It would reset her mind and help her remember that she was a 30-year-old successful lawyer who was here to get some work done outside of the office while still being able to wind down — at least a little bit.
Then her neighbor started to wind her up.
The sliding screen door opened behind her and she turned to see Ryan walking through before closing it. He had put on a pair of black athletic shorts with the Detroit Pirates logo on them and a black t-shirt. His hair still looked wet and messy, but it was more of a controlled mess now, like he had brushed it slightly without too much thought. He also had his ratty-looking flip flops back on.
"I see you found the coffee."
"And the milk in the fridge. Hope you don't mind."
He sat down at the table next to her and she noticed that he had picked out the mug that her brother had bought years ago after complaining about the set in the cupboard.
"The Batman mug, huh?"
Ryan gave her a lopsided smile. "It was either that or one of the pink ones with flowers on it." He looked down and noticed Lucy's cup on the table. "Not that there's anything wrong with those."
Lucy smiled and grabbed her pink mug with the flowers on it. "It's OK. I know they're ugly."
He shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. "You said it, not me."
"If it makes you feel better, my dad hates them too. He also doesn't like to drink anything that's hot so he really has no say in the matter."
"So who even likes them?"
Lucy smiled at him. "My mom. But she's also the one who makes the coffee every morning so we let her keep them."
"Fair enough."
Ryan turned away from her and stared out over the water, his elbows resting on the table in front of them, his huge hockey hands wrapped around the Batman mug. It was quiet and serene, the slight breeze off the lake ruffling his hair a little.
Lucy didn't like quiet when she was around other people. She was a lawyer after all. She liked to talk and debate and ask people questions. She liked that about Ryan too. Whenever they hung out at Sydney's apartment or were over at his place, Ryan loved to entertain and chat. It was superficial conversation most of the time, sure, but it was still a conversation.
But that wasn't the Ryan sitting next to her, and she didn't mind that. Instead, they both drank in silence a little longer, both looking out on the water in front of them. It was actually nice.
Ryan finally turned to her, as if he was noticing her presence for the first time, and nodded down at her book. "What are you reading?"
"Huh?"
"The book."
Lucy wasn't expecting him to ask about her book, and her mind was having trouble catching up, which made her sound clueless to his simple question.
"Edgar Allan Poe. A short story calledThe Cask of Amontillado."
Ryan wrinkled his nose. "Never heard of it. What's it about?"
"A man feels he's been disrespected by his friend so he gets his friend drunk, lures him into his cellar, and then buries him in the wall."
He put his coffee cup down and stared at her. "Buries him in the wall? Like, while he's still alive?"
"Yeah."
