Hosed (Happy Cat #1)(20)



But they didn’t. Not one, not even once.

Until now, I’d assumed that was because they were respectful, sensitive guys who could tell I wasn’t ready to take that final step. But as Ryan and I head into the woods, bound for another destination on my dashing companion’s oh-so-charming tour, I wonder if maybe teen Ryan was right.

Maybe I am sensually repulsive. Maybe that’s why I’m the oldest virgin in California, the country, and possibly the world.

Maybe I should have taken his words into my head all those years ago, instead of letting them break my heart, and worked hard to suck less at making out.

Though I can’t imagine what those steps might have been…

It’s not like they offer Foreplay 101 in college and Kissing Classes aren’t something you can pick up two-for-one on Groupon. Aside from a steamy practice session with my pillow, I’m not sure I have many options for improving my game.

Unless…

An idea blooms in my head, surging from seed to shade tree in seconds.

I’m so distracted by the mental foliage I don’t realize Ryan is slowing down until I’m nearly on top of him. When I do, I shove my heels backward, skidding to an unsteady stop on the leaves in the clearing with a high-pitched yip.

“You okay?” Ryan swings off his bike with the same easy sensuality with which he does all things, this man who has clearly never had to worry about whether he gives good lip lock.

I nod, heart pounding fast, and only partially from the exercise. Can I really do this? Can I open my mouth and make the crazy come out? Can I ask Ryan to be my Tonsil Hockey Tutor?

Um…yes. I think I can.

“No, I’m not okay.” I chew my bottom lip for a moment before pulling in a breath and confessing in a rush, “I heard you. What you said. The night we performed our scenes for our parents.”

Ryan’s brows furrow. “In high school?”

I nod. “Yes. In high school. After we went offstage. When you were behind the curtains?”

“The curtains…” he echoes, looking so confused my cheeks catch fire all over again.

“You know, behind the curtains,” I repeat, pulse racing faster as I wonder what the heck I’m going to do if he doesn’t remember this almost ten-year-old conversation as well as I do. Probably run off to hide in the forest and perish of starvation and embarrassment. “Before the final bow. When you were chatting with Ben,” I add, shoulders relaxing away from my ears as his eyes widen and comprehension apparently dawns.

“Oh…with Ben.” Ryan nods slowly.

“Yes, with Ben,” I say, nodding along with him.

He runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up in an adorable mess on top of his head because everything about this man is adorable. There is literally charisma oozing out of his pores, even when he’s uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. I had no idea you were—”

“It’s fine, all fine,” I hurry to assure him, waving a breezy hand through the air. I don’t want to admit to him how badly it hurt. “I mean, it wounded my pride a little as a kid, but that was a long—”

“No, Cassie,” he says, shaking his head. “You don’t understand. I—”

“Seriously.” I force a laugh. “It’s no big deal. I wouldn’t have brought it up, but there’s something I want to ask you, and that conversation is relevant to—”

“No. Listen to me.” He leans down, capturing my hands in his as he pins me with a look so intense it steals the rest of my sentence away. Soon, I forget every word I know in English, French, and a smattering of Spanish picked up on a trip to Costa Rica as he adds, “That conversation wasn’t about you.”

“I’m pretty sure it was,” I whisper, pulse disco-dancing in my throat as his fingers curl tighter around mine.

“Okay, yes, it was about you, but not in the way you think. Ben came up to me after our scene to ask me if it was cool to ask you out.” Ryan rolls his eyes. “He thought you were ‘hot’ as Juliet and wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything going on between us before he made his move.”

My brows lift. “What? But Ben Rathbone hated me.”

“He didn’t hate you, he was just an asshole who treated girls like shit.” Ryan’s expression darkens as he adds, “He’s still an asshole, by the way. Been divorced three times, and his latest ex had to file a restraining order last week to keep him from setting up his tennis ball launcher in front of her front door and giving her Chihuahua a nervous breakdown with all the pounding.”

I huff. “What a jerk.”

Ryan nods, lips curving lightly at the edges. “Yeah. He’s a bottom feeder. I knew that, even back then, and I couldn’t let him get his creepy hands on a sweet kid like you.” He shrugs. “So I told him you were a bad kisser.”

“I believe the exact words were ‘the worst ever’ and something about a ‘gag-worthy’ experience,” I say, even as my ribs relax and a light, breezy feeling drifts through my chest.

Could it really be as simple as that?

Just a silly misunderstanding?

All those years of heartache because he was trying to protect me—even if his methods left a lot to be desired.

He winces, his blue eyes wrinkling lightly at the edges. “Yeah, something like that. I’m sorry. You were never supposed to hear any of it. I just couldn’t stomach the thought of it—him with you. You looked like you were twelve years old and he was this giant dickhead wrestler.”

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