would have if they’d been home.” His rich, deep voice, as smooth and warm as a mug of hot cocoa, flowed over her. “I’m Ryland James.”
“I know.”
“That puts me at a disadvantage because I don’t know who you are.”
“I meant, I know you. But it was a long time ago,” she clarified.
His gaze raked over her. “I would remember meeting you.”
Lucy was used to guys hitting on her. She hadn’t expected that from Ryland, but she liked it. Other men’s attention annoyed her. His flirting made her feel attractive and desired.
“Let me take a closer look to see if I can jog my memory,” he said.
The approval in his eyes gave her goose bumps. The good kind, ones she hadn’t felt in a while. She hadn’t wanted to jump back into the dating scene after her divorce two years ago.
“I have seen that pretty smile of yours before,” he continued. “Those sparkling blue eyes, too.”
Oh, boy. Her knees felt wobbly. Tingles filled her stomach.
Stop. She wasn’t back in middle school.
Lucy straightened. The guy hadn’t a clue who she was. Ryland James was a professional athlete. Knowing what to say to women was probably part of their training camp.
“I’m Lucy.” For some odd reason, she sounded husky. She cleared her throat. “Lucy Martin.”
“Lucy.” Lines creased Ryland’s forehead. “Aaron Martin’s little sister?”
She nodded.
“Same smile and blue eyes, but everything else has changed.” Ryland’s gaze ran the length of her again. “Just look at you now.”
She braced herself, waiting to hear how sick she’d been and how ugly she’d looked before her liver transplant.
He grinned. “Little Lucy is all grown up now.”
Little Lucy? She stiffened. His words confused her. She hadn’t been little. Okay, maybe when they first met back in elementary school. But she’d been huge, a bloated whale, and yellow due to jaundice the last time he’d seen her. “It’s been what? Thirteen years since we last saw each other.”
“Thirteen years too long,” he said.
What was going on? Old crushes were supposed to get fat and lose their hair, not get even hotter and appear interested in you. He sounded interested. Unless her imagination was getting the best of her.
No, she knew better when it came to men. “It looks as if life is treating you well. Except for your leg—”
“Foot. Nothing serious.”
“You had surgery.”
“A minor inconvenience, that’s all. Nothing like what you suffered through,” he said. “The liver transplant seems to have done what Aaron hoped it would do. All he ever wanted was for you to be healthy.”
“I am.” She wondered why Aaron would have talked about her illness to Ryland. All they’d cared about were soccer and girls. Well, every other girl in Wicksburg except her. “I take medicine each day and have a monthly blood test, but otherwise I’m the same as everybody else.”
“No, you’re not.” Ryland’s gaze softened. “There’s nothing ordinary about you. Never has been. It sucked that you were sick, but you were always so brave.”
Heat stole up her neck toward her cheeks. Butterflies flapped in her tummy. Her heart …
Whoa-whoa-whoa. Don’t get carried away by a few nice words from a good-looking guy, even if that guy happened to be the former man of her dreams. She’d been a naive kid back then. She’d learned the hard way that people said things they didn’t mean. They lied, even after saying how much they loved you. Lucy squared her shoulders.
Time to get this over with. She handed Ryland the cookies. “These are for you.”
He removed the container’s lid. His brows furrowed. “Cookies?”
Ryland sounded surprised. She bit the inside of her mouth, hoping he liked them. “Chocolate chip.”
“My favorite. Thanks.”
He seemed pleased. Good. “Aaron’s son, Connor, helped me make them. He’s nine and loves soccer. That’s why I’m here. To ask a favor.”
Ryland looked at the cookies, then at her. “I appreciate your honesty. Not many people are so up-front when they want something. Let’s talk inside.”
She hesitated, unsure of the wisdom of going into the house. Once upon a time she’d believed in happily ever after and one true love. But life had taught her those things belonged only in fairy tales. Love and romance were overrated. But Ryland was making her feel things she tried hard not to think about too much—attraction, desire, hope.
But the other part of her, the part that tended to be impulsive and had gotten her into trouble more than once, was curious. She wanted to know if his parents’ house was as nice on the inside as the exterior and front yard. Heaven knew she would never live in an exclusive neighborhood like this one. This might be her only chance to find out.
Ryland leaned against the doorway. The casual pose took weight off his right foot. He might need to sit down.
“Sure.” She didn’t want him hurting. “That would be nice.”
He whistled for the dog.
Cupcake ran inside.
Lucy entered the house. The air was cooler than outside and smelled lemony. Wood floors gleamed. A giant chandelier hung from the twenty-foot ceiling in the foyer. She clamped her lips together so her mouth wouldn’t gape. Original watercolor paintings in gilded frames decorated the textured walls. Tasteful and expensive.
She stepped through a wide-arched doorway into the living room. Talk about beautiful. The yellow and green décor was light, bright and inviting. The colors, fabrics and accessories coordinated perfectly. What she liked most was how comfortable the room looked, not at all like some of those unlivable magazine layouts or model homes.
Family pictures sat on the wooden fireplace mantle. A framed poster-size portrait of Ryland, wearing a U.S. National team uniform, hung on the wall. An open paperback novel rested cover-side up on an end table. “Your parents’ house is lovely.”
“Thanks.”
He sounded proud, making her wonder about his part in his parents’ house. She’d guess a big part, given his solid relationship with his mom and dad when he’d been a teen.
“My mom thought the house was too big, but I convinced her she deserved it after so many years of apartment living.” Ryland motioned to a sofa. “Have a seat.”
Lucy sat, sinking into the overstuffed cushions. More comfortable than the futon she’d sold before
