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And it still boggled him that it had been such a short time, considering how much of his energy and attention she consumed.
Finally Kaitlyn realized how much time had passed, and that Nick, despite his protests to the contrary, was tired after a long, eventful weekend. Ry shook hands with the man who meant so much to her, then excused himself to leave them alone for goodbyes.
“Take your time,” he said to her, the first words he’d addressed directly to her since she’d made that crack about flattery.
Yes, the ride home was going to be…interesting.
*
“He did this?”Nick asked, staring at the pencil drawing she held out to him.
“Yes. He said I could give it to you, if you want it.”
“I’d love it. I will frame it and put it where I can see it every day.” He gave her a sideways look. “This is the man who insists he’s not an artist?”
She nodded. “And won’t even discuss it.”
“I’d like to see him do a portrait of you.”
Her breath caught. Nick was uncannily sharp, but there was no way he could know. “That would be boring.” She tried for a laugh. “There’s a reason I prefer to be behind the camera.”
“Yes, there is. Because you don’t see yourself as others do. And that, my sweet girl, is a pity.”
She didn’t want anyone’s pity. But Nick’s words stuck in her mind all the way out to Ry’s truck. He was leaning against the driver’s door, legs and arms crossed, his head leaning back against the top of the cab, his face turned toward the sun that had broken through the clouds while she was inside.
She stopped in her tracks, staring, her fingers itching for a shutter in that familiar way. But she didn’t have a camera with her, so she simply looked at him. Soaked in the beauty of him, memorizing every detail for the time after, when she would go back to her life and he would go back to his, no doubt glad to be rid of the annoyance of all this.
She didn’t think she’d made a sound—although she could have sighed overly loudly—but his head came up and he looked toward her. She still didn’t move, but simply stood there savoring the way his lean, muscular body moved, that savage grace as he straightened and started toward her. When he stopped in front of her, she would have sworn she could feel his heat even from a foot away. As if he had some kind of burning aura around him that warmed anyone who got close.
Anyone lucky enough to stay close would be warm forever.
“You get him all settled?”
“Yes.” It was all she felt safe saying.
“He seems good.”
“Yes.”
“Ready to head back?”
“Yes.”
She saw his gaze narrow at the third monosyllable. But he only nodded and turned around, holding his arm out as if to escort her back to the truck.
She had a few minutes of peace as he got them out of the parking lot, onto the side road that led to the boulevard that would take them back to the interstate. She thought she’d worked out what to say, but somehow seeing him like that, like some beautiful creature the sun had decided to break through the clouds to bless, had stolen all the words from her head. Finally, once they were on I35 she decided to just come out with the easier part.
“Nick said to thank you for the drawing.”
He glanced at her, then went back to the road ahead. “Did he recognize the woman with him?”
She blinked. “What?”
“In the drawing.”
“Of course, why—” She broke off suddenly as she got his point.
“Nottooflattering then.”
