“No school for Mikey today, then?” she said, making conversation as Ryker set about putting on some fresh coffee.
“Nah, it’s Saturday!”
“Oh, is it?” In her head, she calculated the days. With her lifestyle, she often lost track. Damn, so it was. Something occurred to her. “But if it’s Saturday, there’s no chance the parts for the car will come in tomorrow.”
He kept his back to her, grabbing a couple of mugs from the cupboard as he spoke. “A courier might still deliver them tomorrow. It’s a twenty-four-seven world we live in now.”
“Even so, there’s less chance, right?”
“It’s out of our hands, so let’s just forget it and enjoy the day, okay?”
But it wasn’t okay, not really.
She didn’t want to press the subject. He was doing everything he could for her, and she didn’t want to appear like an ungrateful brat. There was one thing she needed to deal with, though, especially if she was going to sleep here.
She needed to wash her bed sheets, as she didn’t want to contaminate Ryker’s bed with whatever germs the sheets might have picked up from the motel mattress, but she didn’t want to look like a freak. She weighed in her mind the embarrassment of asking to do laundry at his house, to not being able to sleep all night due to the image in her head of miniscule germs crawling all over her like parasites.
The image won out.
“I don’t want to be annoying, but do you mind if I do some laundry?” She hurried on, “I can always take it to the laundromat if it’s a problem.”
“No problem. I can do it for you.”
She put her hands on her ample hips. “Ryker Russo, I am not having you washing my undies.”
“Really? Well, now I’m disappointed.”
“I don’t need looking after.”
He locked his eyes on hers. “What if I wanted to look after you?”
Her heart hitched, but she said, “I need to be able to take care of myself. Now are you going to show me to your laundry room, or not?”
He did a mock bow and waved his hand in a swirl. “This way, my lady.”
Ryker showed her to the laundry room and thankfully left her to stuff her sheets and dirty laundry into the machine. She found some detergent and set the cycle on.
He spoke from the doorway. “Now, how about you and I go and have some fun?”
Fun? Fun wasn’t something she’d had in a long time—with the exception of the times she’d spent with Ryker recently.
They left the truck parked outside Ryker’s house and walked into town. Most of the roads were closed to traffic now to accommodate the stalls and the procession that would take place later. Ryker had invited Mikey along, but he’d declined with only a wave of his hand. She couldn’t say she blamed him. Tomato-based activities wouldn’t be her first choice of entertainment either, but Ryker could have invited her along to a shit-throwing contest and she still would have gone.
At first the town was relatively empty, but they soon reached the center and all of the people ready for a day of festivities began to fill the streets.
Ryker led Jenna from stall to stall. Everything was tomato related—fried green tomatoes, different cheeses with spicy tomato chutney, even bloody marys were up for sale. Ryker insisted on stopping and sampling the produce of every stall.
He held a piece of tomato, topped with mozzarella and basil to her mouth. Tentatively, she parted her lips and he pushed the piece of food between her teeth and onto her tongue. Self-consciously, she covered her mouth with her hand as she chewed, relishing the fresh and creamy taste. A piece of bruschetta was next, something else he fed to her, the toast crisp and delicious, the tomatoes juicy, sweet, and ripe.
Juice dribbled down her chin, and she laughed and self-consciously wiped it away.
“You’re going to think I’m an absolute pig eating this much.”
That hint of a smile appeared on his lips again. “I like to see you eat. There’s something about a woman enjoying her food that makes me think her appetites stretch to other places as well.”
“Is that right?”
He stepped closer. “Plus, you have a beautiful mouth. You can’t blame me for enjoying putting things in it.”
“Ryker!” Her cheeks flamed, and she glanced around to see if anyone had heard.
Her eyes locked on a couple of young women, in their early twenties at the most, heading toward them. They both had the sort of figures she’d always envied, slender with small breasts that allowed them to wear the kind of strappy tops they had on now, without having to worry about the mammoth thick straps of the type of bra she had to wear. Both girls were brunettes, one with long hair falling around her shoulders, the other with a pixie crop that suited her delicate features.