Chapter 4

A/N: Back at it with another one, and way sooner than I expected. Enjoy!

I stared at him over my plate of the best linguini in Paris, maybe the world.

Seriously, it was that good.

But despite the amazing food and ambience, I was confused.

Ryan confused me.

I was tempted to take him at face value. I didn't care what he did with his personal life. That was his. It didn't bother me that he was a flirt, I'd met many, and hopefully, I would again when and if I decided to flirt back. It didn't even bother me when he was harsh about Forrester's history.

I could understand being strong in defence of something you've created.

I felt the same way about Kelly, I'd fight and die to protect her from anything.

Everything.

But a nagging part of me that just wouldn't shut up wanted me to figure out if there was more beneath the surface.

My curiosity demanded I play along.

So, I did.

"You'll let me. How kind?" I said, sarcasm my ever-present best friend. I pulled out my phone for some quick research.

"What're you doing?" He asked.

"Researching the best questions to ask strangers?" I said, scrolling down.

He laughed. "Okay."

"Here's a good one. Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have to safely go back in for one item. What is it and why?" I asked.

He frowned. "I thought you'd ask something more personal, something about me."

I smiled. "This is about you. This tells me more about you than I would know by asking what your middle name is. Just answer. Honestly."

I didn't care so much for factual information. I didn't want to know about him, I wanted to know him. I wanted to know about his character. What made him tick? Was this the kind of person I wanted to do business with? Was this a person I wanted as my friend? Who was he behind the facade?

Because there was more to him than he was letting on. At least I hoped there was, if we were to go into business together.

And another incentive, hopefully he'd ask the same kinds of questions in return, and not ask about the factual details of my life, because right now, looking back—with the exception of Kelly—I'm not sure it would sound too good to anyone's ears.

"My middle name is Cory. See how simple that was." He smiled. A diversion tactic I was beginning to notice. Flash that dazzling smile and reroute the conversation.

Well, not this time, slick.

"Answer the question, Ryan Cory Shay." I ordered, happy for the tidbit of information I hadn't asked for.

He sighed, dropping his utensil to the plate. "A scarf."

"Pretty important scarf. Why?" I asked, leaning forward curiosity nipping at my feet.

"This is starting to feel like two questions." He groaned.

"It was part of the original question." I smiled. "But if it makes it easier, you can add a why part to my question."

He nodded slowly, taking a big gulp of his wine. "It was my dad's." He said, and I knew I'd just stepped in it.

A whole mountain of shit. Me and my big mouth.

I shook my head. "You don't have to—"

"It's okay, but just remember I didn't back out, so you can't either." He smiled. A real smile, not his practiced grin. It didn't quite reach his eyes; it spoke of reminiscing, longing. But it was a nice smile. A much better smile.

"My dad was an artist. He was amazing, but his choice art form wasn't exactly what one would call legal. He was a graffiti artist. He was into street art before it became widely accepted. He tried to give it up, but I don't think he ever could. He was careful though, wrapping his face up in scarves when he went out. He loved to show us his art after the fact. He and Raven shared that trait, their artistic ability. I got my affinity for numbers from my mom. They never excluded me or anything, but I was always a little jealous of the bond they shared through art, so I stole his scarves. I think he knew too so he'd just go out and get another. When we were fifteen, they died in a car crash."

"I'm so sorry." I grasped his hand across the table. I couldn't imagine losing my parents, or Kelly ever losing me.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "It's okay. Um, anyway, so my dad had gone out a couple days before that, and I'd stolen his scarf immediately after like I always did. When CPS took us, it was one of the things I made sure I grabbed. It used to smell like him, but I wore it so much that it started to smell more like me than him." He shrugged. "I guess it's just a scarf now, but I keep it around."

"Wow." I released a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. "That's beautiful." I squeezed his hand.

He glanced at me, quickly removing his hand from under mine, grabbing his utensils even though his plate was empty at this point.

He grinned that practiced grin. "I guess it's my turn now." He said.

I had to shake my head to adjust to his abrupt change in demeanour. That stupid smile, it just shut him down. It made him unreachable, unreadable. I suppose he knew it too. I suppose it was his weapon, and his shield.

"Yeah, I guess it is." I said uncertain.

"Let's see." He said, drumming his fingers against each other, smirking. I guess I deserved his mischievous intent, although I hadn't thought my question would open such a can of worms.

Luckily for me, my baby had stellar timing. Her little fists balled up and she rubbed them against her eyes before letting out a cry worthy of an opera singer.

"Oh, no, what happened, baby?" I asked, picking her up, and out of the stroller. "Bad dream?"

I paced back and forth, motioning to Ryan to get the bottle I kept in her baby bag.

"What?" He asked.

"The bottle." I said.

"Oh." He said quickly grabbing it, giving it to the waiter who was kind enough to ask if I wanted him to warm it up.

"Do you need anything else?" Ryan asked when I didn't sit back down.

"No, she just likes me to move when she's upset." I said walking back and forth beside our table, gently rocking her.

"Would it be better if you could walk around instead of just pacing?" He asked, a look that I could only describe as concerned curiosity all over his face.

"It would actually. She likes being outside, but I've got too much stuff right now to walk to the park."

We had chosen the location of our meeting for its easy accessibility. My apartment was a few blocks east, and there was a park I'd frequented the last time I'd lived here just a couple blocks further. No doubt with the way Kelly stared at the sky at the beach house, she would love staring up at the trees. But it wasn't an option. I'd wait for her to settle down a little before calling a car.

"Don't worry." He motioned to the waiter to bring our check, quickly paying as Kelly sucked greedily on her bottle. "I've got hands."

"No, that's really okay." I protested.

"It's fine." He said, but I remained firm.

He sighed, tilting his head at me.

"Will walking outside soothe her? Will me going with you make it easier for you to do what you need to do?" He asked.

Honestly, it would. He knew it would, but I didn't need his help. Or anybody's.

When I left Paris, I would need to learn to do all this without anyone else's help. To soothe her and gather up her stuff and find a way to do with two hands what I was used to doing with four. Liam wouldn't be at home anymore.

But I looked at him, and he was just being nice. He didn't know my baggage. He was just offering to push a stroller. And it was only my second day in Paris. I'd have eleven more to become a more independent and self-sufficient parent.

When I didn't answer, he took my silence as a yes.

"I just—"

"Thought I'd be annoyed?" He asked.

I mean, maybe. Most people would admit to finding another person's baby cute, but that usually stopped pretty quick when said baby was no longer peacefully sleeping.

He took my silence as an answer again.

"I've dealt with a tired baby before, Steffy." He said, peaking my interest as he placed the baby bag at the bottom of the stroller.

Grabbing the handles, he glanced at me. "You coming?"

Kelly decided she'd had enough of the bottle, shoving it away from her face which was already started to turn sour.

"Yeah." I said, grabbing her blanket.

"Good." He said once we'd fallen into step with each other. "I believe it's still my turn." He smiled.

The good one.

A/N: Thank you. The support on both my stories has been unreal. I love to write, and I appreciate all of you who enjoy my stories. You encourage me to keep going and try my hardest to improve, so thank you. I'm surprised I wrote another one so quickly, I guess when inspiration strikes, right? Anyway, a lot of readers are unsure about Ryan and honestly so is Steffy, so that's what this chapter is about; just Ryan and Steffy getting to know each other a little better, and Steffy possibly gaining a friend because I see such a lack of people that she can count on as friends in B&B (not family, not that family can't be friends, but an actual friend without all the expectations and history that she usually gets with the B&B gang).

Anyway, thank you and keep reviewing. Your feedback is appreciated and considered. Hopefully, I can write a story that we all really enjoy.

Until next time… :-)