Chapter 6

TYLER

CHAPTER SIX

On Saturday, I pull up to Ariana's house. The door is open and the cats are looking out through the screen. When they see me, Cipher cries while Digit looks back into the house.

It's not easy to read cats, but it's a bright morning and their pupils are wide, like they're either playful or afraid.

When I reach the door, I lift my hand to knock when I hear a male voice inside.

"Ari, you can't ignore me or the agency."

"I'm busy today, Brock. You should have called before you came all this way." Ariana's voice is steady with no signs of distress.

I already know that Brock is her ex. My gut tightens despite my belief that jealousy is a waste of time and energy. Pull yourself together, dude. I knock.

"Don't walk away from me," Brock says from the shadows inside.

Ariana steps from the living room through the kitchen and into the sunlight. She smiles. "We may have a delay, but come in."

I step inside and let my eyes adjust.

Brock is tall and skinny. His dark hair is slicked back away from pasty white skin. Dark-framed glasses slip down his straight nose. He pushes them up. "Who are you?"

I hold out my hand. "Tyler Strand."

Giving my hand a look, he turns to Ariana. "Who is he?"

She cocks her head and stares at him for a long moment. When she looks at me, she smiles. "Tyler is my date today."

Brock's pale cheeks turn blotchy red. "You're going on a date with this person and that's why you don't have time to talk to me about serious matters?"

The screen door swings open and a woman with long blond hair and green eyes rushes in. "I'm late." She looks from me to Brock, then settles her attention on Ariana.

This is becoming an interesting morning in ways I never imagined. "I'm Tyler Strand."

"Meghan Lane. It's nice to meet you." After she shakes my hand, she turns to Brock. "Hello, Brock. I didn't expect to see you again."

He looks at Ariana's pretty sister as if she were a pariah. "Meghan. I have business with Ari."

"Business, on a Saturday. Those space people have you hopping around on the weekend?" Meghan raises her eyebrows.

Brock huffs. "This is important." Then he gives me the same look he gave Meghan.

Ariana says. "I'm sorry I'm running late, Tyler. I'm going to change, and then I'll be ready to go."

I walk around Brock and stop Ariana at her bedroom door. "Are you sure you still want to go? Is whatever he wants really important?"

She stares at me.

Keeping my voice soft, I lean in. "Look, I know you're special and the way your mind works is something people will always need. If this is important, I can see you another time." I hate that I'm saying this. The last thing I want is to walk away from her today.

Lifting on her toes, she kisses me, then lowers. "Whatever the Space Agency wants can wait. I doubt they would send Brock and if they did, well, they made a mistake. I'm not interested in anything he has to say. I am interested in our date."

The expansion of joy in my heart makes me beam like a kid. "I guess you'd better go change then."

She turns and goes into her bedroom.

I close the door and return to the kitchen.

Smiling, Meghan sits at the small table in the corner. "Have a seat, Tyler. I'm sure Ari won't be long."

For a second, I watch Brock pace the kitchen, then I realize that Meghan is right. I sit across from her. "What do you do, Meghan?"

"I teach math at the local high school."

"High school." Brock makes a derisive sound. "Your sister can change the world but sits in this house doing stupid research. You teach idiots basic math. Your brothers?—"

"Stop speaking before you make me angry, Brock," Meghan says in a voice that any teacher would envy. There's no room for someone to say a word. "You have no rights here. You spend so much time judging other people, when you'd be better served by examining your own behavior. What Ari does or doesn't do is no longer any of your business. You should leave now."

"Ari didn't tell me to go." He gives me a long smug look.

I think about the kiss and the way she looked at me and any residual jealousy washes away. "She did say she wasn't interested in whatever you had to say, so why stand around?"

"There are important people who have been trying to reach her for over a week. People who can make her career." His whine grates on me.

Meghan stands. She's not tall or imposing, but something about her cannot be ignored. "My sister is happy with what she's doing. You saying the space people can make her career is more evidence that you don't care about her at all. I guess that your other relationship didn't work out and you want Ari to come back to Houston so you can have a high-profile woman on your arm."

His cheeks turn that blotchy red again. Clearly, she's hit on some truth.

Ariana clears her throat from the entrance to the hallway. "I'm ready to go, Tyler. Brock, unless you'd like to spend some time debating with Meghan, it's time for you to go, too."

I stand.

"You don't understand, Ari. We need you back in Houston."

"There are other smart people. I'm not going back to Houston." She steps to my side and I take her beach bag. It's covered in giant daisies, which seems out of place for Ariana, but I like the juxtaposition of seriousness and whimsy.

"You can't ignore me." He crosses his arms over his chest.

"I can, but I'll tell you what. If you leave without saying another word, I'll call Marshal on Monday and see what he wants." Ariana stares him down.

Like a petulant child, Brock stomps his foot but walks out of the house. He gets in a rental car parked in the street and drives away.

We say goodbye to Meghan and get in my pickup truck. I put Ari's bag behind the seat. "That was more excitement than I expected before we left the house."

"I suppose I could have avoided this if I'd answered his calls last week." She shrugs.

Since she did answer my calls, I can't help the rush of pleasure that fills me. I start the engine. "Can I show you something before we head out of town?"

"Yes." She stares out the windshield.

I take her hand and squeeze it.

She smiles.

Winding through the streets of Roseville, I take her to a house on the other side of the square and a few blocks out. There's a for sale sign on the front lawn. "I toured this house yesterday. I like it."

"The Rushfields used to live here."

"The agent said so. I guess the heirs didn't want the house so they're selling. It needs some updates, but it's a nice house." I hold my breath and it's ridiculous. I've known this woman for eight days, and I'm worried she won't like a house I'm considering buying.

"My cousin Denver can help you with renovations. He's very good and has done work on a lot of houses in town."

"Have you ever been inside this house?"

She nods. "Meghan played with Liz Rushfield and I came along. It has a big kitchen."

Reminding myself that with Ariana, subtle doesn't work, I turn fully toward her and take her hand. "I'm showing you this because I don't want to buy a house you hate. I'd want you to be comfortable spending time here."

A hint of a blush colors her cheeks and she meets my gaze. "I don't hate this house."

Feeling almost as good as when she kissed me, I put the car in Drive and pull away from the house I plan to make an offer for.

I wouldn't have expected someone as serious and brilliant as Ariana to love the boardwalk games as much as she does, but when I win her a stuffed pink octopus by throwing baseballs at milk bottles, she grins from ear to ear.

Hugging it to her chest, she walks beside me past the booths with funnel cake, games of chance, and arcades. We head inside one and she goes directly to the Skee-Ball lanes.

Handing me the octopus, she presses her credit card to the game before I can offer to pay.

"What are you playing for?" The room is lined with hundreds of prizes. Small ones at the bottom sections of the wall and bigger prizes at the top.

She points to a cat tree at the very top. "I think the boys would love that, and this is math."

"Is it?" I would consider this a game of skill.

"Geometry and physics." She confirms.

She tosses the first wooden ball up the lane and it drops in the very center hole. She tosses the next and the same thing. It costs her about twenty bucks, but she wins every time. Soon she has enough credits to get the cat tree.

Once she's grinning again, I carry the prize to my truck and put it in the bed, close the cover, and lock it. She puts the octopus in behind the seat. "This is fun."

"It is. Are you hungry?" I take her hand and kiss the back.

She nods and swings our joined hands. "I saw a booth with Italian sausage sandwiches."

"Whatever you want." I mean this with my full being. I want to give her anything and everything she wants, and it scares me a little.

Back on the boardwalk, we stand in the short line leading to the Italian sausage sandwich shop. When we reach the front, Ariana orders one with onions and peppers, then smothers it with ketchup.

I order the same but skip the ketchup. We find a bench as the sun goes down behind us and reflects off of the ocean. The sandwich is delicious and messy. "Can I ask you something?"

She nods and chews.

"Next week, my sister is getting married. Will you come to the wedding with me? I know it's early in our relationship to introduce you to my entire family, but I'd like for you to come. Of course, I'll understand if you don't want to." I'm holding my breath while she finishes her bite of food and wipes her hands and face on the paper napkins.

"They may not like me. People don't always like me." She looks out over the ocean. Her earlier joy is overshadowed by pensiveness.

"I think they will love you, but even if that's not the case, it won't matter to me." If my hands weren't so covered in sausage grease, I'd touch her and try to reassure her. It's like having my wrists tied.

"I'll go with you." She says, then her smile is back and she looks at me, making my heart leap.

"Thank you." I manage two words. If I were a poet, I'd do better. I want to do better. Then I remember, Ariana is the kind of woman who prefers direct honesty to flowery words.

She eats the last of her sandwich and pours some water from her bottle onto her hands before wiping them with the rest of the paper napkins. "Maybe you should meet my parents."

Despite the nerves, which are to be expected, I get a surge of elation about her wanting me to meet her family. If I hadn't been so focused on Brock this morning, I would have given more credence to meeting Meghan. "I would you like to meet them."