Chapter 20

Chapter

Twenty

The storm moved in fast. One moment, the lake was a placid mirror reflecting the grey sky, and the next, it was whipped into a frenzy. The temperature dropped, and a chill crawled up Ryan's spine as he grabbed one corner of the cover from Aelin's dad.

Aelin sprinted toward the water, her ponytail swishing. "I'll get the paddleboards!" she yelled to Mariah, already halfway there.

Lightning flashed over the lake followed by a crack of thunder, and the first drops of rain started to fall, fat and heavy. Ryan glanced at Aelin, their eyes meeting for a heartbeat as she dragged the boards up onto the beach. She wore her shorts, but no shirt over her bikini top. He thought about her hand resting on his. The way her skin had prickled under the water. What was he doing?

He knew exactly what he wanted to do. Something about being away from home made the ground feel less stable under his feet. He'd been so sure he could never be with anyone but Kara. That he couldn't move on while she was still stuck in that place. But did Fun Ryan feel the same way?

By the time they had everything stowed away, the rain was coming down in earnest. They said hurried goodbyes and retreated to their respective cabins.

"That was intense." Aelin panted.

"I don't remember the last time I saw a storm like this." Ryan kicked off his sandals and went to the window, crouching so he could see past the porch overhang. Thunder shook the walls.

"Mom?" Bailey's voice wafted down from the loft.

"Hey, we're here." Aelin turned, scanning the floor for something. "Do you girls want to watch a movie or play a game?"

The girls didn't answer right away. "Both. Game first, then movie."

"Sounds perfect." Aelin grabbed the towels puddled on the floor and took them into the bedroom.

The girls settled in at the table. Ryan grabbed the bag of Sour Patch Kids, and Aelin nodded approvingly.

She pulled a few options from the bag. "Crazy Eights or Go Fish?"

They played multiple rounds of both while the rain hammered on the roof. Amaya was fiercely competitive, her brow furrowing as she analyzed her cards. Bailey was all about the rules, making sure everyone followed them to the letter. He chuckled every time she started a sentence with, "Wait . . . "

After round four of Crazy Eights, he glanced up at the clock. "Dinner?" The girls nodded. "Why don't you two go start your movie and we'll whip something up." He pushed his chair back and headed to the kitchen.

"I can do that." Aelin stood.

Ryan shook his head. "No. Go shower. I've got this."

Aelin watched him a moment, then nodded. She disappeared into the bedroom, and he stood in front of the open fridge for a moment, unsure why he'd opened it in the first place. Chicken. Pasta sauce.

Ryan forced the idea of Aelin pulling off her bikini top behind the door out of his head and opened the package of chicken breasts. Nice. André would've taken advantage of that one.

He'd barely responded to the team chat since they'd been there. He didn't want to disappear onto his phone, but when he started getting individual messages from his teammates, he decided he at least needed to let them know he was alive.

Ryan cut the chicken, coated a pan with olive oil, then started it cooking. He boiled water and grabbed the salt from the cupboard. He pulled the package of noodles from the top shelf and opened them. As soon as the chicken was white around the edges, he flipped them with a spatula and put the lid on the pan just to make sure they cooked through. The whole dinner was prepped and ready in under fifteen minutes, so he decided to chop up some cucumbers and peppers since nobody had returned to the kitchen. Not that he was trying to impress anybody.

He had plates and cups neatly stacked on the counter, along with forks and napkins, by the time Aelin re-emerged from the bedroom. Her hair was wet and combed, and she wore a cozy sweater and joggers that were so thin, they left nothing to the imagination.

He called to the girls and had them pause their movie, then dished up and sat at the table to eat. Bailey found a candle and matches in one of the drawers and insisted they have mood lighting. The sky was still dark outside, the rain still coming down in buckets.

The girls took all of ten seconds to finish their meal and run back upstairs to their tablets. He and Aelin took their time. She complimented him multiple times on the sauce, which he didn't feel was necessarily deserved, but appreciated, nonetheless. Cooking for only him and Amaya didn't exactly yield a high level of job satisfaction.

"Most guys don't cook, you know." Aelin took a bite of pasta.

"You know most guys?"

She shrugged. "You hear things. "

"I don't think you've met enough hockey players. We take our food very seriously." Ryan took a drink of water.

"Hmm. Right. When I think of hockey players, I think of homemakers."

Ryan feigned offense. "So judgy."

They finished their meal, and Aelin insisted on doing the cleanup. She put the extra food in snap containers from the cupboard, then washed the pots and pans by hand and loaded the plates, cups, and silverware into the dishwasher.

Ryan kept the candle burning after wiping down the table, and both of them settled into the living room with the lights off, watching the lightning flash through the window.

"Do you want to sit out on the porch? I don't know what direction the rain is coming from."

He stood. "Worth checking."

They stepped out the front door and sat down on the wooden bench. "I think we got lucky." The raindrops whipped around the side of the house, but they were coming from the opposite direction. A few drops hit his ankles, but other than that, the angle kept them dry. Aelin gasped as a jagged arc of lightning ripped through the charcoal clouds.

"It's terrifying," she whispered. "I love it."

He frowned. "You like being terrified?"

"Not in real life."

He shifted, turning to face her. "We're not in real life?"

She shook her head. "Not up there. That's . . . I don't know. A theoretical. We're down here on earth. Little ants on a massive rock. Everything up there follows its own rules."

He studied her profile as she watched the sky, her eyes wide with wonder. Ryan cleared his throat. "Did we succeed?"

She let out a contented sigh. "Yeah. I think we did."

"There's nothing else you wanted to do?"

Aelin opened her mouth, then closed it, tucking her hands under her thighs. She shook her head.

"Liar," he whispered .

Even in the dim lighting filtering through the window, he caught the flush creeping onto her cheeks. He was flirting with the line, and he knew it, but he couldn't stop pushing just a little further if it meant he got a reaction like that.

Her tongue flicked over her lips. "It's stupid."

"Try me."

The words seemed to dance on the tip of her tongue before she swallowed them again. Ryan didn't press. He leaned back against the bench, catching another flash of lightning fracturing the sky and burning against his retinas.

"I've always wanted to dance in the rain," she murmured. Ryan stilled, keeping his eyes trained ahead. "I told Clark that once, and he said it would probably be disappointing."

Ryan grunted. "Why?"

She let out a long exhale. "Because there was nothing romantic about being cold and wet." She paused. "I saw that scene on the beach in Sweet Home Alabama. At sixteen, that was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen in my life."

Ryan laughed. "And now?"

"Still pretty close."

Ryan tapped his fingers on the wooden bench, then without overthinking it, he stood and offered her a hand.

She looked up at him. "I didn't tell you that as some plea for a pity dance."

Ryan didn't move. "I think it sounds fun."

She pursed her lips, then glanced past him. "I'm sure everyone is in their cabins looking out their windows right now."

"That's a problem?"

She teased her lower lip with her teeth. "Yeah. A little. I don't want them to get the wrong idea."

Ryan nodded. He started to lower his hand when she pushed up to stand in front of him. "Back porch?"

They walked back into the cabin and picked up their shoes, tiptoeing down the hall, and through the bedroom to the back door. The girls' movie was still playing in the loft. This time Ryan couldn't pretend that he was only flirting with the line. He knew exactly what he was doing when he stood and offered Aelin his hand.

His hands trembled as he pushed open the door, and a gust of wind sent a spray of rain onto the carpet. Ryan pulled her out, their sandals slapping against the soaking deck boards as the rain whipped against their cheeks.

Aelin's eyes were wide as he pulled her into his arms. "Was it raining like this in the movie?" Ryan raised his voice above the creaking of the pine trees.

She laughed. "Definitely not."

There was no music to match, but as Ryan looped his arms around her waist and Aelin dropped hers over his shoulders, they swayed anyway. Aelin rested her temple against his cheek. Her normal coconut scent mixed with damp pine and sunscreen.

The rain lashed at them, cold and relentless. Ryan's shirt clung to his skin, and Aelin's hair plastered against her face. She laughed, and he closed his eyes to keep his eyeballs from getting pelted. Aelin pressed into him, and liquid fire flooded his veins. His hands pressed against her waist, feeling her muscles flex as she moved. Then he was imagining her in that bikini, goosebumps flashing across her skin.

He shifted, momentarily embarrassed by what she had to be feeling through those paper-thin joggers, but Aelin only pressed closer. He gritted his teeth and said the only thing that came into his head.

"I'm not really a dancer."

She grinned against his cheek. "I think being willing is the biggest thing."

He adjusted his grip on her waist. "I thought about taking lessons."

She pulled back to look at him, her eyes narrowed against the onslaught. "Why? "

"One of my teammates is getting married in August. My friend Tyler wanted to do a flash mob."

Aelin's face split into a smile. "Shut up. That's amazing. Your whole hockey team?" He nodded. "What song?"

His grin widened. "It's super romantic."

She laughed. "What song?"

"Pink Pony Club."

Aelin's hands tightened, her fingers gently tugging on his hair. "That's—you have to record it. If you don't send that to me, we can't be friends."

Ryan's pulse pounded in his ears. Is that what they were? Friends? He lifted a hand and swept the hair from her forehead. Aelin opened her left eye, squinting to look at him. Her lips parted, and the tip of her nose turned pink.

Just as he was searching for something else to fill the silence, her hand curled, and her fingernails gently scratched the back of his neck. Any rational thought evaporated. He was standing in the rain, soaked to the bone with a gorgeous woman. She was molded against him, their thin cotton fabric the only thing dulling the sensation of her soft curves.

Fun Ryan punched Old Ryan in the nuts and went for it.