Casanova Cowboy (A Morgan Mallory Story) (20 page)

Chapter 22

I couldn’t stop thinking about what Liz had told me as I drove to Ryan’s apartment. As good of friends as we were, she had held it in until she felt telling me about it might help me. She explained it with so little emotion, it was almost as if it were about someone else, and in a way it was. I felt like seeing Ryan might brighten my mood.

Ryan
opened the door when I knocked. He looked into my eyes with a worried expression as he reached out and took my hand pulling me into his apartment. His roommate looked up from watching TV.

“Hey, Morgan,” he said.

“Hey,” I answered.

“We can go in my room,” Ryan said dropping my hand.

His room was small and sparse, a queen size bed against one wall, a plaid bedspread covering it. A night table with a reading lamp on it sat on the right side. 

“What’s up
?” he asked, sitting down on the bed.

             
“I needed a friend,” I said shuffling my feet.

             
“Are you drunk?” he asked.

             
“We had a few beers throughout the day, but no,” I answered.

He looked at me as I stood
sort of awkwardly in his room. I knew he was waiting for me to revel my reason for wanting to come by.

             
“Do you want to shower?” he asked.

             
I suddenly had a visual of how I must look in my bathing suit with a tank top and shorts covering it, sand stuck to my arms, legs and feet, and in my hair. I definitely looked like I needed a shower, and I was sure he didn’t want me sitting on his bed.

             
“Can I?” I asked, feeling like the weight might be lifted.

             
“Of course you can,” he said, guiding me to his bathroom.

             
He pulled out a towel and showed me where everything was and then locked the door, pulling it closed behind him. I let the warm water run down over my head and down my back, the water stinging from where the sun had tanned me. The spray easing some of the tension I’d felt. I washed my hair with Ryan’s Neutrogena shampoo, realizing this was what I smelled on him sometimes. The scent I remembered from when we’d made love. When I finished, I put my shorts and tank top back on. My bathing suit was full of sand, so I rinsed it in the sink and wrung it out. Methodically I brushed my hair out with Ryan’s brush, and put some toothpaste on my finger and scrubbed my teeth. As I did so I tried to get my thoughts in order. I wiped away the fog again from the small mirror. Better, I looked a lot better.

Ryan
was reclined in his torn jeans and T-shirt on his bed, when I came back into his room, his expression now relaxed.

             
“What happened today?” he asked, sitting up on the edge of the bed.

             
I sat down next to him.

“Nothing specific
, I guess. It was a beautiful day. Liz and I talked about things that made me reflect back, think about the past. Sometimes it’s just depressing,” I said with a shrug.

“Why’s that?” he
asked, trying to understand.

             
“I don’t know, things that happened, things that didn’t,” I reflected.

             
“I try not to look back,” he said. “Better to look forward.”

He put his hand on my leg and gave me a reassuring squeeze.

“Lay down, I’ll give you a back rub.”

             
I crawled onto his bed and lay on my stomach. I pulled my tank top up over my shoulders. Flipping my wet hair to one side I rested my chin on my crossed hands. Ryan moved close to my side and started massaging my back, slow deep strokes.

             
“Oh, that’s nice,” I said.

             
He ran his thumbs down the muscles on each side of my spine, small circles as he went. I felt better already.

“Tell me about the farm.
I mean, what you did there, growing up?” I asked.

             
“Where do I start, the day I was born?” he teased.

             
He spread out his hands again kneading into my back.

             
“No, just general stuff. You said it was a small town, how small?” I asked.

             
“Small. Four corners, a bar. That was it, a don’t-blink kind of town,” he said.

             
“Seriously small,” I mused as I pictured a desolate place in the middle of nowhere, even worse than my first impression of Escondido.

             
“From when I remember, we didn’t have the farm. My dad had sold it by then, went to work for the post office and drove the school bus. I worked on a neighbor’s farm, though. For years, I helped Smitty milk the cows,” Ryan said.

             
I could hear his smile in his tone. I stared at his wood headboard as he massaged me.

             
“Did you like that?” I asked.

             
“I like animals, so I guess I did.”

             
An image of Ryan sitting on a milk stool milking filled my head. It seemed like it would be a peaceful thing to do.

             
“Why did you leave there?” I asked.

             
“I went to the same school, kindergarten through high school with forty-two people in my graduating class. I remember my friends and I would meet at the creek or out in the cornfields to party, and we talked about how we would leave once high school was finished. Get out of that little town and explore the world. Go west, go to California. We believed the song by the Beach Boys, about all the beautiful California girls,” Ryan teased.

His hand felt so nice on my skin, soft and comforting
, I didn’t dare move, didn’t want him to stop.

             
“So did you and your friends leave together?” I asked.

             
“No, I was the only one who left,” he answered.

             
I lifted up slightly and looked back at him. He pushed my shoulder back down and continued massaging.

             
“I packed up my Jeep the week we graduated and headed to Florida, alone,” Ryan explained.

             
“Why Florida?” I asked.

             
“Because one of my brothers had a friend there I could stay with for a while.”

             
“Then what?” I asked.

             
“Then I applied to a junior college and got a couple of jobs, one at a restaurant, one at the airport,” he said.

             
I flipped over suddenly, taking my tank top off. Ryan looked into my eyes, avoiding my chest.

             
“Chest rub,” I said, pulling his hands to my chest.

He
surprised me and didn’t skip a beat, ignoring my attempt at shock value. He massaged my chest and breasts lightly, not in any sexual way. Ryan adjusted his position and just kept on going and I wondered what he was thinking, how he could just act like nothing had changed, why he didn’t protest.
Was he immune to my boobs?

“Did you like it there?”
I asked, moving my head trying to get him to look at me.

“I
t was different, busy. I was close to the beach. It didn’t snow there. I learned the world was a lot bigger than I knew, or even imagined. Like Park City, sort of a mish-mash of people from various places,” Ryan said, avoiding my eyes.

I wanted to laugh at his attempt at
autopilot, but I stuffed it down. Two could play this game of pretending it wasn’t my breasts he was feeling.

“I
t sounds like you liked Florida.”

“I did,
” he said, reflecting.

“But you left
.”

“Because I thought there was more opportunity
in starting my own business, and to do that, I had to go where the work was plentiful. Virginia was booming then.”

He suddenly stopped and shifted away from me.

“Put your top back on,” he said, handing me my tank top.

             
“Too distracting?” I challenged.

             
“Something like that,” he said, and stood up, going to the window.

He pulled
back the curtain and looked out. I put my shirt back on and moved to the edge of the bed.

             
“Do you miss back home?” I asked.

             
He stood with his back to me like there was something that interested him outside. I figured he was just concentrating on not getting an erection, or making one go away.

             
“I miss family, not the place. When I left, I think they all expected me to come back. Instead I kept moving farther west. Now I’m here, California, where I said I wanted to go all along,”

             
“Are the girls as beautiful as you expected?” I pushed.

             
He turned around and looked at me.

             
“Pretty much,” he said with a small grin. “Feeling better?”

“I do
. Thanks for the rub, all of it,” I said, getting up off the bed.

             
Ryan did make me feel better. He helped me stop thinking about Liz. He reminded me to stop looking back. He always made me feel comfortable and calm. I wondered why I wanted to shock him and then wondered why he hadn’t taken my gesture as an invitation. I smiled. He took my behavior in stride, not giving me the satisfaction.

Chapter 23

I thought about Mathew a lot that summer and almost called him more than once. In order to keep myself from going backwards Liz and I spent time in the bars, I hung out with Karen and Jackie, I even dated a little, but nothing that interested me. Even Ryan reminded me to look forward, every now and then he would call to check in, say
hello
. I invited him occasionally to things that were going on, and most of the time, he would come.

Late in the summer
, I decided I wanted to get out on my own again, have my own place. A friend of my parents was a realtor on a new project in Rancho Penasquitos, a community closer to San Diego. The condominiums were reasonably priced, and I could buy one with very little down payment. I wanted my independence back. I felt as if I needed to alter things again, move on. My love life was nonexistent, and I didn’t want to feel like I was waiting, waiting for a man to help make big life decisions.

I figured if
my parents would match what I’d saved from working, and I got a roommate, I could swing becoming a homeowner. Three years had passed since I’d left Park City, and I felt it was time to grow up. I wanted and needed a change, even though I still had a couple of years of college left. My dad was not as gung ho about it as I was, and he worried that I was putting too much pressure on myself. He thought I should stay home and finish school, save money, but I was not to be deterred. After many conversations about the responsibility, he agreed to help me buy a two-bedroom unit.

             
Ryan offered to help me with some of the upgrades I wanted to do. So, the two of us laid tile in the kitchen and entryway as opposed to the builder’s standard linoleum. Once I moved in, he helped me apply a faux finish on the bedroom walls, and then we put crown molding up in the bedroom. We had just finished that room and were sitting on the floor in the living room—no furniture yet, drinking some beer Ryan had brought with him. His back was leaning against the wall his longs legs stretched out in front of him.

“So what
happened that night at the Sharps’ beach house? You were there, and then you and Jackie were gone. Did you leave the party?” I asked.

Karen and Jackie’s m
om, Sadie, owned a second home on the beach in Oceanside, and we’d had more than a few parties there over the years without her knowledge.

             
“Sort of, she took me for a walk down the beach and then took me to bed,” he said with a smirk.

             
I about spit out the sip of beer I’d just taken.

             
“You and Jackie slept together?” I asked choking.

             
“Well, it wasn’t exactly sleeping. She said it was my birthday present. She was pretty persistent when I tried to laugh her offer off,” he said.

             
“You slut,” I said, laughing.

             
“Oh yeah, coming from Miss Prude here,” he ribbed.

             
I ignored him.

“Does Karen know?”

              “I’m not telling her, and you don’t need to either,” he said with a tip of his head.

             
Karen and Jackie, the two sisters, were thirteen months apart and close to one another, sometimes too close. Jackie had slept with several of Karen’s exes, which pissed Karen off. It was almost like it was a challenge for Jackie to get the guy, once Karen was through with them. I found it amusing. My mom found it comical, she enjoyed the girls and their stories.

             
“Did you date after that?” I asked.

             
“Nah, one-night-stand, we both knew it,” he said casually.

             
He’d now slept with two of my closest friends. Liz popped into my mind, and I suddenly wondered if he’d slept with her.

             
“Have you slept with Liz too?” I asked hesitantly.

             
“Not yet,” he joked.

             
I shot him a look of
not funny
.

             
“Tell me who you’re sleeping with, a new neighbor maybe?” he teased.

             
“No,” I spat, remembering the man I had commented on to Ryan who lived in the next building.

He was my typical profile: tall, handsome, good body, and full of himself.
I’d met him at the trash, his name was George, and it just didn’t fit him.

             
“No, not the new neighbor, or no, you aren’t going to tell me?” he pushed.

             
“No, I’m not going to tell you,” I teased. “Seriously though, I’m not doing George.”

“How do you know his name?”

“A friendly meeting over trash,” I said with a smile. “Are you dating anyone I haven’t heard about? I mean you didn’t tell me about Jackie when it happened.”

Ryan sat up pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them casually.

              “I’ve taken this new gal out a couple times. She likes to line dance. It’s sort of fun,” he said.

             
“What’s the gal’s name?” I asked, mocking him.

             
“Julie.”

             
“Where did Julie come from?” I asked.

             
“Met her at the airport. She works there,” he answered.

             
I pictured the San Diego airport and looked at him puzzled.

             
“I’m taking up flying again. I regret not having pursued the flying thing, so I’ve decided to go for it. Palomar College has an aviation program, so I’m starting back to school too. I want to get a degree in aviation,” he explained.

             
I was stunned.
How had all this come about without me knowing?
Ryan had talked about flying in Florida. He’d gotten his private pilot’s license there years ago, but he had never expressed any regret to me about not pursuing it further. I wondered what had caused his renewed interest. I wondered if my mom knew all this.

“
Ryan, that’s exciting. What made you want to take it up again? What’s the goal?” I asked.

I was so surprised
and a little hurt that I’d heard nothing of this big decision, not even a thought about it.

             
“Get my transport license and be able to fly corporate or commercial, become a pilot,” he said.

             
“Wow,” I mused. “A pilot.”

             
I suddenly realized how disconnected our worlds had become. That the days at my parents’ house truly were a lifetime ago. Maybe we had become too disconnected as I felt a tightening in my heart.

             
“That would change your world. And Julie?” I asked carefully.

             
“We’ll see,” he smiled contentedly.

             
I was happy for him and jealous at the same time. He was taking charge of his life and changing his whole direction. My change seemed to pale in comparison.

T
here was also someone new in his life, someone who made him smile.