Bearly Hanging On (The Jamesburg Shifters #6)(32)
"Yeah, so? We all do. Once I stole a roll of film from the pharmacy. I got home, realized I did it, and was too lazy to go back and pay. Or then there was the time I rear-ended someone in a parking lot." She was scraping to try and figure out other terrible things she'd done in her life, but none of them sounded all that fierce when they came out.
"Anyway, what could you possibly have done? You chop wood for old people, Ryan, you're not some dangerous ex-Mafioso in witness protection..." she trailed off, a sickening lump rising up in her chest. "Which would explain the secrecy."
"If that were the case, the federal government would have put me here. And as I recall, those guys don't really have a clue about this place."
"Yeah," Jamie said. "Although some weird crew was poking around the courthouse today. I don't think Jamesburg's seen that many suits since... hell, I don't know, a suit truck went through town."
"FBI?" Ryan wrinkled his nose.
"Why?"
"Curiosity. You said they were here, and I'm asking about them. It's called making conversation. I'm doing it because I'm feeling trapped and don't want to give up all my secrets at once. For instance, the secret that when I'm nervous, I talk about unrelated topics."
Jamie cracked a smile. "So you're not being hunted by some Tony Soprano wannabe?"
"Not so far as I know," he said. "Although, it would make for a pretty great mini-series."
Jamie thought for a second about interrupting his digression, but there wasn't any reason to make him feel like he had his leg in a bear trap. If nothing else, she was patient. He'd come around. And besides, the longer he was babbling about having an HBO chronicle of his life, she didn't have to spill any beans either.
He reached for her again, and this time, she allowed his hand to catch hers. It was a simple gesture, but one of obvious need. "So not FBI?" he asked again.
"No," she said, distracted by something flitting past her shoulder. "No, the main one, an Agent Branson - hey have you seen Twin Peaks?"
Ryan cocked an eyebrow again. When he did that, he looked a little comical, but it also made the dimple on his chin stand out more prominently somehow. Jamie sorta hated him for always being able to distract her with that damn dimple.
"Sure," he said with a shrug. "Who hasn't? I shotgunned it on Netflix one weekend, a couple years ago, after feeling like I was the only person on earth who hadn't seen it. Now, I leave it on in the background sometimes."
"That's... an odd thing to leave on in the background."
"I like how they talk," he explained. "You know how some people listen to TV evangelists, or the preachers on the radio, just for the sound of their voice, if not to hear the words? Same thing. I don't know why, but the cadence is just perfect. The first episode where Dale goes to the red room? God, that's classic, it—"
"Okay," Jamie said. "I get it, you're a fan. Anyway, the point was that this Craig Branson guy, he looks exactly like Kyle McLachlan. Straight suit, slicked back hair, the whole bit."
"Does he get weirdly orgasmic when you give him coffee?"
Jamie snorted, "I dunno, I'll have to try next time he's around. And," she drew out the word. "Circling back around to square one, he's not FBI, or at least didn't say so. He said he as with the TVA."
"Wait, the thing that FDR set up? You know, he did that as part of a larger-scale make-work program, except the TVA did a tremendous amount for bringing electricity into extreme rural areas."
"Someone watched PBS last weekend," Jamie said, twisting her mouth into a smile. "Ken Burns puts me to sleep."
"When I sleep, I dream of you," Ryan said. That hung in the air like a floating stalactite between the two of them. "I don't think of anything else."
Jamie felt herself blush furiously. That's one hell of a way to get me to quit asking about his background. "I, er, well thanks, but that's not really what I meant."
He shook his huge head. "I've never seen anyone like you, never known—"
"You mean the wings?" she flitted them as a demonstration. "Yeah, I get that a lot."
"No," he said plainly. "Your eyes. The way you look at me, and say a thousand things that never come out of your mouth. The way when I kissed you just now, I felt your tongue curl around mine and I wanted you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. And the way it makes me hate you a little bit for being so able to distract me from everything that needs to be done."
"From dreaming about me to hating me," she said with a smirk. "That's quite a leap."
Ryan shook his head. His determination was easy to see on his hardened, gorgeous, heart-wrenching face. "So close I can hardly tell the difference," he whispered.
The two of them watched one another's face for a moment that felt like an hour. She was waiting for him to make a move, studying his face for a sign that never came that he was about to kiss her again. Finally, she couldn't help it, couldn't keep herself from tasting those lips, feeling his whiskers rasp against her.
Jamie leaned in, letting her soft, red lips run a line along his bristled jaw. She felt the muscles in his shoulders hum with tension, just as her nerves flared to life. With a deep breath, she whispered, "I can't believe I'm doing this," in Ryan's ear.