Page 12 of Don’t Look Back

I shrugged, wrinkling my nose. “I guess so. And up until now I always thought that was enough.”

“You talking about your ex?”

I nodded, staring across the room. The outline of the mirror taunted me.

I needed to paint.

“Now that she’s out of the picture, what’s stopping you?” Ryan watched me, I could feel it—but I stared at that bright white square on the wall.

“Living on the road is difficult with Celiac. Besides, I’m older now. I doubt any of those schools would want me when they’ve got so much fresh meat to choose from. I’m out of practice.”

“What about the culinary institute?”

A smile quirked the edges of my mouth. “New York? That may as well be a different planet for someone like me.” I shook my head to clear it. “But you’ve seen how I get ridiculed. Can you imagine what would happen if I made a career out of it?”

“You know, I never thought I’d get culture shock just moving from one state to another,” he said, so softly that I wasn’t sure he was even talking to me. Movement caught my eye: Ryan drawing his legs beneath him. When he noticed me watching, he rushed to put his feet back on the floor. “I’m sorry, I forgot where I was.”

“It’s okay. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Why should I be comfortable when you’re not?” Still, he lounged back on the couch with his legs folded underneath him.

My brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“Something clearly unsettles you about me,” he explained. “You’ve kept as much distance as possible between us, despite you inviting me here. I can’t figure out if it’s because you’re scared of me⁠—”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“Or you’re scared of yourself,” he finished.

I rotated to face him. “What do you mean by that?”

Ryan visibly bit back a grin. “I don’t know if you’re ready to hear that.”

“Spit it out, Walker,” I ordered. I could have sworn my voice dropped an octave… or three. My heart hammered. Was he onto me?

“Okay. Just remember you asked for it.” I waved my hand at him, gesturing for him to get on with it. “I think you’re attracted to me, and I think it scares the shit out of you.”

Certainly, somewhere, glass shattered. A lightbulb flicked on like the cartoons.

But I wasn’t going to tell him he might be right. I floundered for something, anything to say—but came up empty. I was mortified. Ryan however, found it amusing.

“Stop laughing at me,” I said once I found my words. “I’m not gay.”

“Ah, to quote the great Callie Torres: ‘there’s a ‘B’ in there, and it doesn’t stand for badass.’”

“Shut up!” Heat flooded my face, burning the back of my neck. I fanned myself with the collar of my shirt.

“Aw, somebody’s getting all hot and bothered,” Ryan teased.

Despite the embarrassment, an involuntary smile took up residence on my face. “I swear to God if you don’t shut up, you’ll be wearing the rest of that wine.”

“Fine, fine,” he surrendered. He stood and returned to the kitchen to wash his glass. I took advantage of the privacy to rest my elbows on my knees and try like hell to get myself under control. My heartbeat rushed in my ears. Ryan thought I was… attracted to him? My inner turmoil wasn’t that obvious, was it?

Most importantly of all… Was he right? My head spun, though whether it was from the booze or exhaustion, I wasn’t sure.

I only looked up when Ryan emerged from the kitchen. “I should head back. The baby’s been up at five a.m. every day since I started. Thank you for dinner. You really are an amazing cook—and that’s not just an excuse to flirt. I mean it. You’ll have to send me that recipe.”

I followed him to the door, leaning against the frame as he slipped into his shoes. “You’re welcome for dinner any time.” It must have been the wine talking, but the words felt good, natural even. So I didn’t fight them. “You sure you’re okay to drive?”