He definitely liked this cocky side of her. And since they weren’t yelling at each other, this was a step in the right direction. “I guess we’ll see. Ladies first.”

…

“…and with the triple word score, that brings me up to forty-six points.”

Bri stared at the columns of numbers on her score sheets and couldn’t believe it. She was down to her last four tiles and Ryan was beating her by a truly embarrassing amount. It was her own hubris at fault. She assumed that her history of reading would give her an edge—she hadn’t stopped to consider his reading history. Maybe it was time to acknowledge that she’d been an ass for letting her issues color her perception of him. This man was more than just the wild boy who’d burned down the high school and set her blood on fire. Realizing that wouldn’t change their past interactions much, but it did affect their future ones.

Particularly the one where she lost this game and was forced to open up all sorts of old scars she didn’t want to deal with.

They said time healed all wounds. They lied. The only way she’d gotten past her abandonment issues was to create a life for herself where she was as safe as possible, full of people who weren’t going anywhere. The fact that Avery and Drew were the only people on that list was kind of sad, but she was okay with it. Once those two made her their own, she couldn’t have gotten away if she wanted to. And in that realization, there was a level of security and safety she hadn’t expected to find.

There was neither of those things with Ryan. He loved to travel and hated Wellingford—for what she was increasingly forced to admit were legitimate reasons—so he’d never be content to put down the roots she so desperately craved. He might not be the wild child she’d originally pegged him for, but that didn’t change that he was guaranteed to leave. Just like every other person in her life had left.

“Bri.”

She blinked and looked up. “Yes?”

Though he grinned, his blue eyes were kind. “Are you going to go, or just stare at the board?”

“Just considering my best move.” And admitting there was no way to come back from this. She put an O next to an available G. “Go. Three points.”

“Nice.” He was blatantly making an effort not to laugh, but there was no meanness there.

“Shut up.” She shook her head. “Your turn.”

His smile turned apologetic as he put down the last two tiles on his board. “Pin. Five points. And whatever you have on your board since I’m out.”

She cursed aloud as she added the Z and X to his points—and again when she totaled them up. “You won by a landslide.”

“You put up a good fight.” He shrugged. “This was the only game we had in the house when I was a kid. I’m pretty sure Drew has the Scrabble dictionary memorized, because I couldn’t beat him until I was sixteen.”

It would have been nice to know that before she’d agreed to this game, but he’d won fair and square. Bri sighed. “Best two out of three?”

“Oh, we can play again. Right after you fulfill your end of the bargain.”

Crap. She’d hoped he’d just let it go. From the way he sat back and propped his heels on the coffee table, he had no intention of allowing her to weasel her way out of this. Which was only fair, no matter how much she didn’t like it. She had agreed to the terms, after all.

She smoothed her hair back. “I grew up in foster care.”

The rest of the story stuck in her throat. God, this was so much harder than she’d expected. She wanted to yell at him and storm off, or throw his own past and reputation in his face again, or do anything in order to avoid sharing these painful memories. When she looked at Ryan, he merely watched her, no expression on his face. The lack of pity was what gave her the strength to go on. “When I was six, my parents died in a car crash. Couples want to adopt babies, not little girls who wake up on a nightly basis screaming from nightmares and crying for their dead parents.”

When it looked like he was going to say something, she held up a hand. “It was a very long time ago. I grew up and got past it.” Mostly. “I bounced through three homes in as many years, and I learned the hard way to keep my head down and my mouth closed.”

“The hard way?” Something dangerous glinted in his eyes.

Oh dear. “I wasn’t abused, if that’s what you’re asking.” She wanted to leave it at that, but Bri found herself elaborating. Ryan had shared part of his past with her, so maybe he would understand the struggles she’d lived through more than Avery did. “It was more…neglect. I was in the last home for nine months and the woman who ran it was more concerned with collecting her checks than with things such as making sure we had a healthy diet and appropriate clothes.” A fact made worse by the bigger kids who took her share of both.

“Christ.”

Bri toyed with the string of her sweats, wishing they were thicker, wishing for something more to cover herself with, as if by covering her body she’d cover up the emotional vulnerability she felt. “I survived. I grew up. I got scholarships. I went to college and made something of myself. And here I am now.”

“I’d say I’m sorry but, like you said, you survived and flourished.” Before she could entirely process his words, he moved on. “What did you do for fun?”

This, at least, was an easy answer. “The library. It was my everything—my fun, my escape, my refuge. I know that sounds silly—or maybe a little pathetic—but it was the truth. What better way to escape the realities of your life than to read about someone else’s? And the local library had what felt like a million books at the time. Countless worlds to be explored and people to meet.” Belatedly, she realized he’d found much the same escape growing up, if his story earlier was anything to go by.

“All in the safety of your own place.”

She shifted, not sure if she liked how close to the mark he’d hit. In her books, she was assured some kind of happy ending. If she didn’t like the way things were going, she could simply put the book down and walk away. End of story.

Life didn’t work the same way.

“Something like that.”

He started to ask another question, but must have caught the way she tensed up, because he changed tactics. “What’s your favorite part of your job?”

This, at least, she could talk about without worrying about emotional pitfalls. “All of it.”

He laughed. “How about you narrow it down a little?”

She wasn’t sure she could. But as soon as that thought hit, Bri knew the answer. “The kids. I’ve set up several programs for young readers, and I can’t begin to express how happy it makes me. I love recommending books to kids and seeing that click when they fall in love. It’s priceless—something I never get tired of.”

“What kind of book would you have chosen for me?”

He really had a gift for putting her on the spot. “I don’t know. It’s hard to say, not knowing what kind of kid you were.” But she knew. She’d known the second they slipped from constantly arguing into something much more vulnerable.

“Come on, Bri. Just play the what-if game. What if I’d come in there and asked for a recommendation?”

“Pirates,” she blurted out.

Ryan started clearing the tiles from the board and dumping them back into the box. “Pirates?”

She took a few seconds to really think about it, but her answer remained the same. “Yes. The adventure and exploration and treasure seem like something that’d appeal to you. Not to mention taking it one step further and mapping out the sunken ships. It’d be a grand adventure.”

His slow smile made her heart skip a beat. “When we get back into town, I’d like to see those books.”

“Why?”

His grin widened. “I happen to have a thing for pirates.”

Just like that, she could picture him in mismatched clothing, with a bandana over his head and a captain’s hat. He’d look roguish and more than a few women would throw themselves at his feet. Goodness, she wanted to do so right now. Bri bit her lip and looked out the window. Change the subject. Change it right now before you go off the deep end and tell him that you’re losing the battle with yourself over everything that is Ryan.

He saved her from making an ass of herself. “Want to play again?”

Again? She wasn’t sure if she could handle another heartfelt confession like she’d just given. Bri rubbed her arms, trying to work away a chill she was pretty sure existed only in her mind. Her options lay before her, as clear as the bright blue sky outside. She could play again and, if the last game was any indication, actually enjoy herself. Or she could run back to the room and deal with the consequences of ripping open that particular emotional wound.

“Sure. Let’s go again.”

…

Bri’s words played in Ryan’s head through two more games of Scrabble. Drew had mentioned she hadn’t grown up easy, but he hadn’t gone into details. It was no wonder she didn’t let anyone in—the two people who were supposed to be there to care for her and see her grow up had died when she was just a little kid. He hadn’t had the best childhood ever, but he’d always had a safe place with Drew. Looking back, his older brother had borne the brunt of their father’s failures. Drew was the one who stepped up and made sure they were taken care of, even if he had to go without to make it happen. Bri hadn’t even had that.

“Quint.” She lay down her tiles with a grin. “With a double letter and triple word score, that’s seventy-two.”

Ryan made a face. “You whooped my ass this time around.” He counted up his tiles and shook his head. After being pretty damn close the last game, she had nearly doubled his score. “How about some dinner?”