Chapter 34: Chapter 34

C H A P T E R - F I F T E E N

I sat with Ryan at Mic and Ryan's kitchen table. I was dressed in my nightshirt. Ryan was dressed casually in a gray t-shirt and checkered pajama pants. Mic had a morning shift. Ryan came in late.

Ryan Garcia was all thick, packed muscle on a medium-sized frame, with kind black eyes and midnight skin. He was a guy from head to toe, which was ideal for Micah, who was all woman except for her lack of cleavage (which was concealed by her huge booty and gorgeous face).

Ryan and I each took a drink of coffee.

Then he said, "Gia -"

Nope. No. Ryan was a wise man where Micah Vasquez was a straight shooter. Ryan would kick Plato's a$$ if he lived in ancient Greece. He had life figured out, and he could read people and situations in a hurry and know precisely what was going on. As a result, he was an excellent officer but a deadly buddy.

I moved my concentration in desperation, and since I was desperate, I opened my lips and inserted my foot.

"Why haven't you proposed to Mic?"

His eyes widened and he fixed his gaze on me.

Shit. Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t! Did I just say that?

"Um..." I began to retrace, but I couldn't figure out how.

"She wants to marry?" " Ryan inquired, and it was my turn to look. Ryan's ability to read everyone apparently did not extend to his live-in girlfriend.

"Well," I paused, "yes."

“Seriously?”

I made a blink.

"Uh..." I paused again, "yes."  I assumed she was OK with the way things were," he explained.

"She is," I said.

He was staring.

I got us to this dangerous point, and I had to guide us through it.

Shit!

“Are you happy with the way things are?" I explored carefully.

"Fuck yeah," he said in response.

That was, at the very least, firm.

"So... hmm, your reluctance and hesitation to make it formal has to do with..." I trailed off and raised my eyebrows.

"It's fine the way it is; why alter it?" " he inquired.

Okay, I was speeding down the highway, so I may as well gear up and activate the rocket launchers. The trouble was that this entailed explaining women to him, which males were never really able to do.

"All right, this is the gig," I said, straightening up in my chair and moving my booty to emphasize that what I was saying required his full attention.

"Women enjoy clothing, shoes, flowers, and they appreciate it when others look at them and say, 'God, she's lovely.' The more people who believe that, the better.  Your wedding day is the one day in your life when you get all of everything packed into one. And it includes jewelry and presents, as well as a vacation when it's absolutely mandatory to wear wonderful underwear and have loads of sex."

Ryan gave me a pallid smile, indicating that much of what I said was probably lost on him, but I got through with the wonderful underwear and loads of sex, so relief washed over me.

As a result, I extended my hand and wrapped it around his forearm. "So you give her that, then you return home, and everything is the same as before, except you have towels and china in your house that you didn't have to buy."

His arm twisted and he seized my hand, then squeezed it.

"This sounds fine," he mumbled.

"Fortunately for you, you got it for free. I'm thinking about going on the road and teaching seminars to males and explaining stuff. I only need to connect with wedding planners and incredibly poor cover bands to get my commissions."

"Engagement rings don't exactly come cheap," he said, giving me another white flash of smile.

"This is correct, but I'm Mic's closest friend, and I'm not going to get involved with any of that kitchen and bathroom wedding shower nonsense." It's all about the lingerie." I let go of his hand, crossed my heart, and lifted my hand, palm out. “Swear.”

"You violate that promise, darlin', and I have to dig through garlic presses and other crap to get the bottle opener, you know I'll make you pay," he said.

"Does Micah not have a garlic press? " I inquired, faking surprise.

This resulted in another white flash.

The white receded, and his eyes became focused. "Was she concerned about this?" ”

“Mic?”

“Yeah.”

"Yeah," I said quietly and honestly.

"Shit," he grumbled.

"She'd want to be yours, Ryan," I explained.

"She's mine, Gia," he said.

"Then give her a ring every day and let her show the world."

He locked his gaze on mine. He then gave a single nod.

"I've got to head to the gym," he added.

"I have to get home," I replied, nodding.

I took a drink of coffee as he stood. I expected him to go to the sink, but instead he came to me. When his palm cradled the back of my head and his face went close, I tipped my head back to look at him.

"This," he said quietly, "is why Yago Cabrera finally woke the fuck up."

My heart stopped beating, yet I wheezed, "Ryan."

"Nothing else to say, darlin', think about that," he murmured, pulling my head forward an inch, kissing my hair, then letting me go and walking his mug to the sink.

Ryan, I adored him. He was a jerk.

I took a glance out the window. The snow has long melted. February had crept into March. In Manila, this meant that anything might happen in terms of weather. Within an hour, you might be in the rain, out in the sun in your bikini, or both.

My phone hadn't rang, and Falcone hadn't broken into the Vasquez/Garcia fortress. Even if he hadn't yet received my pay and message, he returned to his lair to discover me missing.

He didn't answer the phone and didn't show up.

This says everything, and I pretended to be relieved, but I wasn't.