The Trouble with Sexy
Read The Trouble with Sexy Online
Authors: Codi Gary
For my husband Brian.
Thank you for your continuous encouragement,
love, and support, especially on Sundays
An Excerpt from
Return of the Bad Girl
Eight days until Valentine's Day . . .
“N
O,
I
REALLY
do. I hate Valentine's Day,” Ryan Ashton said firmly, her blue eyes serious.
Gregg threw his hands in the air. “Come on! All girls say that so they won't be disappointed when their significant other doesn't measure up to the hype of romanticism. If a woman doesn't get any of those heart-shaped boxes of candy or a dozen red roses, she'll sit in front of the TV with a pint of Ben & Jerry's Half Baked, crying pathetically while watching
The Notebook.
”
Ryan tossed him a glare from across the table of the only coffee shop in their little town, The Local Bean. “Well it's a good thing I don't have a significant other to expect things from.”
Gregg asked, “So no plans, then?”
She took a sip of her coffee and assured him, “It's not a big deal. When I was eleven I had to put my horse Shara down on Valentine's Day. It scarred me for life.”
Gregg raised an eyebrow at her and replied, “Really? A horse?”
Ryan's glare became murderous. “Are you laughing at my pain?”
Gregg deadpanned, “No, of course not.”
She turned her head from left to right and reached out to smack him on the arm.
“Ouch!” he yelped, rubbing the abused area. “I can't believe you hit me.”
She hissed back, “I can't believe you're being such a jerk. You're usually so sweet.”
Gregg's gaze shifted away from her. “Yeah well, I guess not everybody likes that kind of thing.”
Ryan followed the direction of his glance to the petite blonde working behind the counter and snorted. “Seriously, I don't know why you're so hung up on Ado Gracie,” she said, referring to the character in
Oklahoma
.
Gregg barked a laugh and asked, “Really? That's the derogatory nickname you're going with?”
She shrugged. “What? I like musicals. And it fits. She's like a jackrabbit; she bounces around from one guy to the next. Plus I thought you were over that. You guys had one date.”
Gregg's tone was testy. “I am over it.”
Ryan continued as if he hadn't said a word. “Plus I've heard she's dated all the eligible guys in the surrounding areas.”
“Listen to you gossiping like one of the girls. Gracie has not dated every eligible guy.”
“Okay, not every guy. Only the cute ones,” she teased.
Gregg's face split into a teasing smile. “Are you calling me cute?”
She scoffed. “Of course. You know you're adorable.”
“Well geez, that's sweet. Next time try not to sound so disgusted.”
Ryan had been going for nonchalant, not disgusted. Gregg was far from disgusting and much more than adorable. His sun-streaked brown was a little long at the moment, resting just over the top of his ears. He had olive skin that tanned easily, and his eyes were a rich hazel with flecks of gold and green. They were adorned with thick eyelashes Ryan thought were a waste on any man and she often grumbled about it. His straight aquiline nose sat perfectly centered over full lips and a gorgeous, easy smile. He could have been a cocky ass, but he was actually one of the nicest guys she'd ever met. Gregg was one of the few people that she'd just clicked with instantaneously, and she valued him as a friend.
Not that she was immune to his good looks. Her heart skipped in her chest every time they worked closely together, and she thought he was absolutely brilliant with a camera. She sometimes caught herself staring at that gorgeous mouth, and when he'd give her a curious look, she'd blush from head to toe in embarrassment. She wasn't under any delusions about her appeal or that Gregg harbored a secret yearning for her. It was just sometimes nice to daydream that when he was looking at her he saw her as more than just the frumpy girl from work.
He looked at his watch and took another sip of his coffee. “Well I've got to head out to Andrew's place to take their thirtieth anniversary pictures.”
Ryan's heart clenched. Thirty years together? She was only twenty-six but had always pictured herself meeting the guy she would marry in college. That hadn't happened, though. Instead she'd met Mattâ
It's not you, it's me
âsophomore year of college. Joshâ
I just don't think we're right for each otherâ
had dated her for seven months before dropping that bomb. And her personal favorite after four months last year, Dougâ
I don't want to hurt your feelings, but you're boring.
At least one of them had given her an honest answer about why they were dumping her. She needed to wear a name tag that said, “Hello, my name is Ryan Ashton. I'm boring. Why bother?”
“Earth to Ryan. Come in Ryan.”
She blinked away her thoughts and blushed. “Sorry, distracted. I'll walk out with you. I have to get to the studio by ten to take pictures of little Dylan Watson. He's three months old, you know.”
Gregg laughed as he stood up, and Ryan admired the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. He called back as he opened the door with a smile and a wave, “'Bye, Gracie.”
Gracie looked up and smiled brightly. “'Bye, Gregg! Have a good one.”
Ryan waved, but Gracie had already turned back to another customer. She knew she shouldn't feel slighted that the wispy blonde hadn't said good-bye to her, but as she followed Gregg out she couldn't help grumbling, “'Bye to you too.”
“Are you jealous of Gracie or something?” he asked.
“No. Of course not. Why would I be?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea.”
There was something in his tone that made her look up at him curiously. Had he sounded a little grumpy or was she losing it? She dismissed it as an overactive imagination and asked, “So what are you doing for Valentine's Day?”
“The actual day? Nothing yet. I'm taking pictures at the Sweethearts Festival for the Rock Canyon Press on Friday. Afterward I thought I might participate in the singles auction before the dance. You want to come bid on me?” He struck a sexy pose and she laughed, although her heart dropped a bit at the mention of such a romantic event.
The Sweethearts Festival was a large craft fair that ended in a singles auction and a sweethearts' dance afterward. People talked about it in awed tones, whispering about the magic in the air created by dollar kissing booths and homemade love potions. The excitement of winning the man or woman of your dreams, and taking them to the dance, where more than one couple had pledged their love and devotion. Such places were not for drab losers with all the appeal of burned toast.
She pushed through the bitter thoughts and scolded, “Are you seriously going to get up on stage and let a bunch of girls waste their hard-earned money on you?”
He looked affronted. “Waste? I'm a catch! And no, I'm just going as Mike's wing man. Gracie told him she's trying to convince Gemma to participate, and he wants to win her. He's hoping that once put into a romantic setting, she'll change her mind about them dating. I feel sorry for the poor guy, being put in the friend category for so long.”
“What are we raising the money for, anyway?” The friend comment stung a little, but she wanted to keep the conversation going. She loved the sound of his voice.
“I'm not sure; I'll have to read the flyer again. Hey, you never answered me, though, about what you were doing for V-day.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket as he spoke, and she wondered if he really cared or was just being polite.
“Probably sit at home with a pint of Ben & Jerry's Half Baked. Maybe cry pathetically while watching
The Notebook.
” She gave him a brilliant smile when he looked up quickly.
He flashed her a sheepish grin. “Touché. Hey, since neither one of us has plans, why don't we grab dinner or something? We could talk about how bitter we are, and maybe watch a horror movie. Anti-Valentine's Day. It could be fun.”
Yeah because that wouldn't be awkward. Going out with him on the most romantic day of the year and pretending that she wasn't wishing that they were out on a real date. “Sounds like a blast, but I think I'll pass.”
“Well the invitations there if you change your mind. We could mock all the stupid couples in the movie that try to sacrifice themselves to save their lovers.” He let out a diabolical evil villain laugh.
Gregg could be such a goofball. She shook her head, still smiling as she said, “Yes because that's not morbid, to laugh when someone dies by an axe to the head.”
“That's the point! 'Cause if we were ever in a horror movie, we'd survive because we don't have anyone.”
His argument made her even more depressed. “Awesome. I'll remember that when Freddy comes for me in my dreams.”
He laughed and patted her shoulder. “That's the spirit! I'll see you later.”
“See ya.”
Her shoulder felt the weight of his hand even after he turned to walk toward the parking lot. Actually, his gait was much sexier than a mere walk, and she admired the way he moved until he disappeared into the parked cars in the lot. She finally turned away to head toward the studio, her expression grim. She was actually surprised that no one had snapped Gregg up, especially considering how many women stopped by for package pricing but never wanted to speak to her. She crossed the street and walked by the empty shop next door, noticing the lights were on. Inside, she saw a lean guy with dark spiky hair moving boxes around.
He was good-looking, thinner than Gregg, but his arms were nicely defined and they flexed with each box he lifted under the gray T-shirt he wore. He glanced up through the glass and his eyes locked on her watching him. She felt her cheeks flame in embarrassment, turned and hurried toward the safety of the studio.
Great, now the guy was going to think she was some kind of weird voyeur.
Once inside, she moved passed Gregg's desk to her own, sliding her jacket off and over the back of her chair. She walked back to the little kitchen area and pulled a Coke from the fridge. A picture of Gregg and Mike from New Year's caught her eye, and her whole body tingled as her thoughts drifted to their one and only kiss.
She'd been standing in the corner away from everyone, holding a glass of champagne in her right hand, wearing black wool pants, a silver satin button-up top, and her plain black cardigan. She'd only showed up because Stephanie Brown had caught her in a weak, lonely moment, and she didn't want to spend the evening in her I Love Sushi pajamas with a bag of chili-flavored Fritos in her lap.
“You look like you're having a blast.”
Her eyes had popped up toward the deep voice, to find Gregg smiling down at her.
She had been tempted to throw her arms around him in gratitude. Most of the people she knew at the Browns' New Year's Eve party had stopped trying to hold onto a conversation with her by their third shot. Recovering from her initial excitement, she quipped, “Oh yeah, awesome. Time of my life.”
Then the voices around them started shouting.
“Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . .”
Gregg shocked her when he reached out to trail his hand against her cheek.
“Seven . . . six . . . five . . .”
Ryan hadn't even registered that his mouth was descending down toward her parted lips.
