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"Well, that's true," Sam drawled. "But neither do I, or Deb." They all smiled knowingly at each other. Or ruefully, maybe. Somebody plopped down a beer in front of Ryan, and the noise grew. "Looks like we've lost sexy and silent, and nobody from our era is showing up. Probably all home with the kids. Do you want to move on somewhere else?"
Erin grimaced. "I don't want Ryan to feel abandoned on his first night out. Let's wait a few more minutes, then I'll text him that he can call if he needs a ride back."
"Sure, Mom," Sam snarked.
"Cute." They were deep into a discussion about how to get deadbeats to pay their bills when a high-pitched, “What?!” silenced the bar for a moment. Starla ran to the bathroom. Ryan's group all looked a little shocked. Oh. Must have found out about the arm. The girls followed Starla to the bathroom, whispering amongst themselves and shooting glances back at Ryan. A couple of the guys stared at the girls for a second, shrugged, and talked to Ryan. Everything seemed calm, but none of the girls came out of the bathroom. Eventually, Ryan got up and walked out the door. Erin shook her head. What a lousy thing to do. But it wasn't surprising—they were a bunch of immature little girls masquerading as women. They'd probably never really grow up.
"Uh oh. Doesn't look good. What a bunch of shallow idiots." Deb's mouth twisted.
"Yeah." Erin grimaced and drank the last of her beer. "Think I'll go. Remember I'm going backpacking tomorrow ."
Sam shuddered. "Yuck. But have fun in the dirt."
Deb smiled and gave her a hug. "Be careful and have a great time."
Erin left, looking around the parking lot for Ryan. He paced near Smoky. When she got closer, she lifted her arm to pat his back, but he backed away. "Ryan, you okay?"
"Yeah." He lifted his chin, face blank. "What are you doing out here? Go back and have fun with your friends."
"They're happily attracting every male eye in the place, and you're my friend too, so I thought I'd come see what was up." That sounded lame. But it was true.
"I'm fine. I'll wait here until you're ready, or you can give me Smoky's keys and get a ride with one of your friends if you trust me with him."
She waved the idea off. "No, let's go. It's late." Without Ryan, the fun was gone.
"Not that late."
She got in Smoky and rolled down the window. "Are you coming?"
Ryan got in and buckled up, but he didn't say a word until they got back to the shop. "Thanks for dinner. It was nice."
"Set your alarm—Jules will be here early."
"Not sure I feel like going." He put a hand on the door handle.
Erin turned to him, glaring. "You're going, even if I have to drag you out of that apartment. And those stairs will leave bruises." He was going, no matter what. She was not leaving him alone and depressed for a week.
Ryan snorted. "Like to see you try." He shook his head, a weird mix of amusement and despair on his face. "But you probably would try, and then you'd strain something and not be able to go, and I wouldn't want that."
She snorted. "Now you're getting the idea. And just because some little girl is an idiot, it doesn't mean everybody's an idiot."
Ryan flashed a forced smile.
" You’d better be packed and ready to go when they pick us up, or I’ll get everyone to drag you down the stairs." She speared him with a look, making sure he knew he didn't have a choice. There was no way he'd stay and talk, but she wanted a commitment from him, something for him to focus on. She wanted to hug him, but from his stiff posture and hand on the door, she could tell it wouldn't be welcome right now.
"Okay." He hopped out and walked away.
She sighed and drove home. There were plenty of idiots in this world, that was for sure. She'd done all she could for tonight—hopefully he'd still be here tomorrow.
She hated leaving him alone, but she didn't have justification to invade his space. Not yet.
Chapter 23
Wilderness Is Good for the Soul, but a Tiny Tent Might Be a Different Story
Ryan trudged up the stairs to his nice, quiet apartment and locked himself in. The whole thing went exactly as he figured—fine until they found out about his arm. At least he’d reconnected with his old friends, but they were so young. So innocent. So naïve. So undamaged. Bonus—he didn't have to worry about Starla coming on to him anymore; she’d never grow up. That voice—yikes. He peeled off the arm, cleaned it, and made sure his residual looked healthy. He'd gotten so used to people either ignoring the arm or being happy with his barked "Afghanistan" that he'd forgotten how girls reacted.
Erin was right. He'd caught her emphasis on the word "girl." He chuckled; she'd made it obvious enough even for him to catch. He hadn't felt self-conscious around Deb or Sam, even when Sam put her hands all over him. Too bad the guys hadn't seen that part. When he'd pointed the three women out to them, jaws dropped. And after Starla had run away, and he made it clear he wouldn't tell them how he'd lost the arm, the guys had asked him lots of questions about the three ladies and what he was doing next. He snorted. He probably ruined any potential points with the guys by walking out the door instead of back over to the women, but that's the way it went. Not that he cared about making points with those guys anyway. They didn't have much in common anymore. He hadn’t really missed any of them; not like he missed his Air Force friends.
