Page 63 of Rekindle My Heart

Chapter 15

The next time Erica woke him, Ryan was a good boy. Not that he didn’t want to shred that little tee-and-shorts combo she was wearing, but by morning, the bricks that had tumbled from her wall had been put firmly back in place around her.

To the disappointment of “Little Ryan,” who was a little sore today, there were no more middle of the night make-out sessions.

“You’re up and dressed early.” Erica yawned as she shuffled into the kitchen, now sporting a long fluffy robe.

“I have to get to work.”

“Unless I dreamt it, you were in a pretty bad car accident yesterday. I’m sure I remember the doctor telling you to take it easy for a few days.”

“Criminals don’t stop because I want a day off.” Did he really just say that? He did an internal eye roll.

Erica cocked her head and stared at him. He fought to hide the fidget that worked its way up his legs. The longer she remained silent, the stronger the itch to squirm grew.

“Fine.” She broke the eye contact and popped a coffee pod into the machine. “Give me ten minutes, and I will drive you to the station.”

“No need. I have a car being dropped off any moment.”

Just then, his phone pinged. It was here. He bit back a sigh. This interaction with Erica was weirdly intimate. It had his mind wandering to places where kids with Erica’s eyes and Ryan’s nose ran down the hall.

He shook off the crazy thought and checked to make sure his holster was latched.

“Gotta go.” Suddenly, the need to leave was strong. Like if he stayed, he’d never leave. What the hell?

He reached the door, and Karma bumped his leg. “I’ll see you later, buddy.”

Erica leaned against the wall, lips pursed, cooling her coffee, and watching him.

God, he wished he could read her mind because last night was so hot… then chilled. And now… It was like he was in an episode of the Twilight Zone with this strange domestic thing happening between the two of them. He swept the growing contentment aside.

“Thanks,” fell from his lips as he slipped out the door.

The whole morning was odd but strangely comfortable. Deep down, he liked it. But with Erica blowing hot and cold, he didn’t dare get too comfortable. She’d broken his heart once and didn’t even know it. He didn’t think he could take it if she let him in again, then slammed that door. Right now, he needed to work, and if he could get his friend back, maybe with benefits, he’d take it. But his heart wouldn’t let him think long-term. Not yet.

On the drive across town, he pushed off all thoughts of Erica and her cozy home. He sighed and shifted in his seat.

Ryan pulled up in front of Old Muscle Gym a few minutes after eight. As he stepped from his rental car, every muscle in his leg throbbed.

“Suck it up. You’ll be fine,” he muttered to himself. Exhaling, he put his foot down.

One step. That’s all the farther he got before an Olympic-sized cramp shot down his limb. “Motherfucker!”

He gripped the car door and hissed, releasing the pain along with the air.

He took a few seconds to catch his breath. Sure, he was a little stiff this morning, but not bad. He’d stretched and took pain relievers. Erica warned him in that subtle way of hers, but he blew off her concern. He figured it was because of the concussion. His leg injury never crossed his mind.

Ryan gave the thigh muscle a quick rub, then straightened. Lightly, he put weight on the injured leg and bit back a grunt. When did he become such a wussy?

His teeth clenched as he strolled into the gym as naturally as possible. He sent a quick wave to Tommy, Amy’s brother, who was cleaning the boxing ring. No time to chat. Slow and steady and with minimal hobbling, he walked to the back office. Two sharp raps alerted Trey to Ryan’s presence before he opened the door. “Hard at work, I see.”

Hunched over this desk, the overhead lights bounced off Trey’s blond hair. He looked up from his spreadsheets, a scowl marring his face. “It’s quarterly reports day.”

“I thought you were giving Tommy more managerial responsibilities?”

“I am, but this is something I need to do for the bank.” He slid the papers into a file and closed a screen on his laptop. “Have a seat. How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” At Trey’s squinted gaze, Ryan shrugged. “Still have a mild headache. Nothing some ibuprofen couldn’t take care of.”