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Chapter 7

Ryan decided to stay late at the garage again. Things were weird at home. Every time he saw Summer, he wasn't sure what to do. Whether he was supposed to act like he didn't want her in the worst way or just go back to how things had been. Because he did. Want her, that is. He'd never wanted any woman as bad as he wanted Summer. Which was the odd part. Because he could have had her by now, but there was something...something he couldn't define, holding him back. He'd always respected women. Everything was always consensual and he'd never pushed. But, with Summer...with Summer, it was like he needed special permission or a sign telling him what direction to go, how to proceed. Because it was more than respect. It was a feeling deeper than anything he had words for.

The garage was quiet. Everyone had gone home. Ryan tinkered away at an engine. He'd been distracted the whole day. In the office, from the corner of his eye, he could see Randy at the file cabinet sorting out some paperwork.

Randy had been married a long time. He was always going on about his wife. Telling everyone he could get to sit long enough to listen, not to get married. Deep down, he was crazy about his wife. Everyone knew it. Hell, even Randy knew it.

The lights in the office went out. Ryan tried to look occupied.

"Everything okay?" Randy was walking toward him.

"Yeah. Just thought I'd get this done before I went home. I should have done it earlier."

"Well, don't stay too long; your little lady's bound to get worried 'bout ya."

"Randy?"

"Yeah, son."

Son. Ryan liked when he said things like that. Even if he didn't mean it in that way.

Ryan took in a breath. A deep breath. "It's nothing, it's just..." Ryan couldn't think of anything to say.

"Woman troubles?"

"Yeah, sorta. I dunno." Ryan smiled sheepishly. "How could you tell?"

"You've got that look to ya. It's that little brunette number that came 'round here before, isn't it? Summer?"

"Yeah."

"Got it pretty bad, don'tcha son."

Ryan nodded. He was sure he was taking a big risk here. The last thing he needed was this to be spread around the garage. He'd never hear the end of it.

"I'll tell ya a little story. Back when I was young, I had me plenty of women. All kinds of 'em. Lined up just to talk to me. Back in the day, I was quite the catch. Sorta like you, eh?"

Ryan laughed. He wasn't sure what Randy was getting at.

"Well, this one day I was just going about my business, tom-catting around and I see her. I can remember it clear as a picture. She was wearing a blue dress and had some of them barrette things in her hair. You know, all fancy like." Randy closed his eyes as if he could see it. "By God, she knocked the breath right out of me. For weeks all I did was look at her; just couldn't bring myself to talk to her. Built her up so bad in my head, I was afraid when I finally did, she'd disappoint. Well, I was wrong. She exceeded all my expectations. It felt like we was the only two people in the whole world. Still does. Everyday. You find someone who makes you feel like that, you gotta hold onto it, you know?"

Ryan nodded again. There really wasn't much he could say. His thoughts were racing.

"Don't get me wrong, sometimes she gets on my nerves, frustrates me so bad I think I'll snap. Oh, we fight an awful lot, but I love her even when I hate her...maybe especially then. " Randy shook his head and let out a hearty laugh, putting on the jacket he'd been carrying.

They were both silent for a minute. Randy caught up in memories. Ryan trying to form thoughts to express his gratitude.

"You know I appreciate everything you've done for me this past year, right?" Ryan ducked his head, hiding his embarrassed blush.

"Hey, it ain't nothin'. Come 'n think of it, I don't know what I did without ya. You're a good man, Ryan; don't let anyone make you think any different."

"Thanks, Randy. That mean a lot."

Randy cleared his throat, and if Ryan wasn't mistaken, he'd guess his cheeks were a shade of red as well.

"Alright, the wife is gonna be plenty mad if I'm not home in time for supper. Go on, get outta here."

Ryan smiled and watched him go.

It was Saturday night. School was out for the weekend and Ryan didn't have to work. He'd been picking up a lot of extra shifts to try to save up some money. Summer admired how determined he was.

A typical Saturday night in Newport consisted of wild parties or lavish dates with the wrong kind of boys. Summer used to dread the social events she was forced to go to and the boys her friends told her to go out with. She didn't miss it one bit. Saturday nights in Chino with Ryan had become Summer's favourite time. Sometimes they went out, but mostly they stayed in. It was free and they got to be alone. It was one of the rare times when Ryan got to relax and didn't have to shoulder so much responsibility.

Summer hadn't let that one nasty experience at The Hole stop her from enjoying the art of dance. There was something about music that freed her; that made her believe that anything was possible.

Swaying her hips, her body twirled around, her arms above her head and around her middle, outlining every asset that men found attractive. Her legs, she had always thought were too short and too skinny to be considered sexy, lead her around the room. She danced around Ryan like she was performing an ancient ritual and rain was about to swell in the clouds and pour down as soon as she commanded it to. It was a silly, unplanned thing to do. And yet, she didn't feel silly doing it. Ryan never made her feel like anything she did was dumb even if she knew he thought it was.

For Ryan, everything had to have a purpose, a meaning. Summer didn't believe that. If Ryan could just give up control, even for a minute, she knew it would allow him to see that sometimes life was about spontaneity as much as it was about surviving. She held out her hand, curled her fingers and dared him to join her.

Ryan's smile was big and his cheeks were flushed. "You're crazy. Clinically insane."

"Maybe," she agreed, taking his hand in hers. "Come on, dance."

Ryan shook his head, but his smile remained. "I don't dance."

"That's too bad 'cause I do."

"Good, I'll just watch."

"Uh-uh Mister. Come on, it's freeing." Grabbing his wrist, she could feel his heart racing under her palm.

"It's stupid," he complained.

She urged him closer, begged him with her smile to come closer still. "Silly, maybe, but not stupid. Have you ever really even tried to dance?"

"I'm not dancing." Ryan looked determined. However, Ryan obviously wasn't aware of how tenacious Summer could be when she wanted something.

Summer's eyes turned dark, hazed over with lust. "What will it take to persuade you?"

Ryan smirked, his eyes dropping. They scanned her body, moving over her like a thin sheet of silk. She could actually feel it.

Stepping up so their toes were in-line, Summer leaned close. She breathed him in. The usual strong scent of motor oil and smoke wasn't as prevalent as the sandalwood soap Ryan had just showered with. She took his bottom lip between her teeth, nipped it gently. He had a great bottom lip. "Convinced?"

Ryan tilted his head to the side, took her face in his palms and kissed her. It was slow and soft and left her a little dizzy. "Now I am," he said and his voice was low and grainy like an old record.

The music changed. The hard pop beats were replaced by a slow jazz tune. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she swayed with him to the rhythm.

"See, isn't this nice?"

Ryan wasn't very light on his feet. His body was rigid and his head was leading his actions. "For you, maybe."

"Get a little closer and put your arms around me." The saxophone swirled in the background and bounced off the walls encompassing them just as Ryan's arms circled Summer's waist and his hands settled on the small of her back.

"You're very bossy," he teased.

"Only when I dance." She wasn't just flirting, she was seducing. Summer pushed her body against his, matched their chests together and liked the way they seemed to line up in all the right places. The tension began to ease and he allowed her to lead, giving up control. She had earned his trust.

"Uh-huh." The hitch in his voice told her Ryan wasn't immune to her charms.

Summer rested her head on his shoulder, playing with the tiny hairs at the back of his neck where they were soft and curled upward. "You know, my grandpa told me once that he fell in love with my grandma the first time they ever danced. He hadn't even spoken to her yet."

Ryan snorted.

"You're sceptical; I can hear it," Summer teased, raising her head to scold him. "But have you ever actually watched two people falling in love? It's like they're dancing to their own music." Ryan looked down at his feet, making sure not to step on Summer's toes. She tried not to giggle seeing his cheeks glowing in the lamplight.

"Is that what we're doing?"

Air had stopped flowing to her lungs. Her chest felt tight. "Nah, you have two left feet and no rhythm. I regard dancing very highly and you just don't make the cut. My poor toes wouldn't be able to withstand it."

"Funny," he said, resting his forehead against hers.

"I thought so."

His hands slipped under her shirt. A warmth flooded through her, burning through her blood and making her skin feel alive. Every nerve ending was awake and sensitive to his touch.

"I guess you're not that bad," she whispered.

They swayed slower as the music died, leaving them pressed against each other and the rest of the world seemingly far away.