I let out a low chuckle as he nods toward the entrance.
“Come on, Perfect,” he urges. I fall in beside him, but after a few steps, something in my gut turns and I stop dead. Ryan halts on his crutches and looks back over his shoulder. “What’s the matter?”
I swallow, the nerves giving my voice a little hitch. “This commitment you have here…is it a grandparent or something? Are you introducing me to family? Because I don’t know if—”
Ryan cuts me off, eyes soft but mouth stubborn. “Stop. It’s not that. Can you just trust me for five minutes?”
I shift on my feet, glance at the doors ahead and then back at him. “Yeah, okay.”
He snickers. “Good. Now can you get the door for my injured ass?”
I fight the urge to say something aboutreallyinjuring his ass, and stride ahead, glancing over my shoulder. “Come on, hop-a-long.”
I hold the door open, and Ryan pauses in the doorway, leans in close, and whispers, “I’m going to hop on something long as soon as we get home,” complete with eyebrow waggle.
I let out a startled laugh, but inside, the word “home” is a grenade. It’s warm and tingly, but also packed with confusion and panic. I don’t have time to process, though, because suddenly a rich, southern voice calls out, “Ryan Buterbaugh, you get your little behind in here right now.”
We step in and my eyes are drawn to a beautifully dressed woman, probably in her fifties, sweeping around the counter in a flurry of mint green fabric and white accessories.
Ryan grins at her. “Now Miss Clara, I take offense.”
She plants her hands on her hips and gives him a look. Ryan turns, waggles his ass a little, and says, “You know damn well my tushy is not small. Go ahead, give it a squeeze.”
She barks a laugh and smacks his arm. “Boy, you are not right. Now turn around so I can give you some love.”
He pivots and she wraps him up in a big hug and he nearly lifts her off her feet—even though he’s balanced on one crutch.
She pulls back and gives him a hard swat to the chest.
“Ow. What was that for?” Ryan yelps.
Clara huffs, but there’s tears in her eyes. “For scaring the bejeezus outta me. I was watching that game, you know.”
Ryan’s smile softens. “I know. You already yelled at me about it on the phone. I’m sorry.”
She wipes her eyes, hand gentle on his arm. “Ain’t nothing to be sorry for, baby. I’m just glad you’re on the mend.” She nods toward a door off to the side. “Though you may leave here with a few more broken bones. They were watching too.”
Ryan laughs, and then Clara turns to me, eyebrows raised. “Well, seems I’ve gone and forgotten my manners. And so have you, Ryan. Who is your friend?”
Ryan beams. “Clara, meet Spence. He’s been helping me while I recover. He’s my bestest friend.”
I groan internally and stick out my hand, but she waves it away. “Oh, no, baby. We hug people where I come from. Especially people who take care of our cherished treasures.” She glances at Ryan, then pulls me into a hug before I can protest. Over her shoulder, I catch Ryan grinning like he’s about to combust.
But honestly? The hug feels…nice. Warm. Safe.
Oh fuck, I’m malfunctioning.
Clara steps back, gives me a long, assessing look. “Hm. I don’t know, Ryan. You’re all busted up now. I may have to trade you in. Your friend here is gorgeous.”
Ryan claps a hand over his heart. “You wound me, Miss Clara.”
“Oh, you know I love you,” she tuts.
I’m starting to wonder if she’s the reason we’re here, but this is more of a friendly visit than something he does in his free time. Clara turns to me and says, “Very nice to meet you, Spence. But you better get your friend through those doors or there’s going to be a riot.”
I frown at her, confused, and glance at Ryan. Clara sighs, rubs my arm. “Goodness gracious. Did you not tell him?”
My eyes dart to Ryan, who’s barely keeping a straight face. Clara looks at me with exaggerated sympathy. “Well, no matter now. Godspeed and good luck, son.”
