A Summer in Sonoma by Robyn Carr Page B

a couple of times, but it didn’t amount to much. I’m getting a little old for all that playing around—kind of tired of the whole bachelor scene. I think I finally worked through it. I’m looking for something different now. Something a little more stable. Reliable.”
    â€œReally?” she said, leaning on her hand, not believing him for a second.
    He looked into his beer and shook his head with a little silent laughter. “Really. I might finally be growing up.” He lifted his eyes. “At thirty-one, I don’t think it’s premature. Do you?”
    â€œHardly. Still, it’s the last thing I expected to hear out of you.”
    â€œI deserved that. Did I ever apologize for that? Because if I didn’t, I should….”
    â€œDon’t bother,” she said. “Long ago and far away.”
    â€œHow’s the family?” he asked.
    She immediately looked away before she said, “Great. They’re great.”
    When she looked back at him, he said, “Oh, yeah, sounds great. What’s the matter? Having some trouble?”
    â€œNah,” she said, “it’s nothing. Definitely nothing I feel like talking about.”
    â€œOkay, let’s change the subject. Who have you seen lately?” he asked, and she knew he meant from their old gang.
    So she told him about who was at the party she and Joe had hosted and lunch that day with the girls, but all the while she was thinking about their past. Ryan was her first love. He was a couple of years older, the big jock at school. Good-looking, flirtatious, funny, smart. He was also unpredictable, had a short attention span and a roving eye. She fell for him at fifteen and they were on and off for about five years with long breaks while he stole other virginities. He’d always come creeping back after four or six or eight months—sorry, repentant, seductive—and she couldn’t resist him. They’d have another few months of bliss, then he’d do it again—get sidetracked by another girl. By the time she was about twenty, maybe twenty-one, she had finally had enough and wouldn’t let him back. But of course, she never really got over him.
    Funny, Ryan and Joe didn’t have any of the same flaws. Joe was incredibly married; he didn’t even flirt. In the looks department, they were pretty equal, though completely different. Ryan had a dimpled smile and twinkling eyes that could just make a girl wet herself. Joe was a damn fine-looking man when he was cleaned up, but Ryan took impeccable and fashionable to the next level;he could be a model. Joe had an incredible, strong, toned body—pecs, biceps, a narrow waist and six-pack such that when he wore that F.D. T-shirt pulled tight across his chest and shoulders, women went weak in the knees. Ryan was so adorable and good-natured; of course, he could look you in the eye, smile that heart-splitting smile and lie through his beautiful, straight, white teeth. Joe had darker good looks, almost black eyes, a shorter fuse, but he was the most honest man she knew.
    They talked for about forty-five minutes before Marty ordered a couple of medium pizzas to go and Ryan ordered a second beer. Then he opened his wallet and pulled out one of his business cards. He was with the local cable company, having started at the bottom right after college. He was already a director—good income, a shirt-and-tie position. He slid his card across the bar. “That’s my office and cell number,” he said. “It’s okay to call me if you want to talk. I get the feeling you have things on your mind. Worries.”
    â€œListen,” she said, “running into you is one thing, calling you is another. I’m married.”
    â€œI know that,” he said. “And I’m a good friend. Kidding aside, Marty. We might have had our romantic troubles, but one thing about us—we were always good friends. We could count