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© 2011 All rights reserved “I gotta go, man,” said Mark. “I told Hilary I’d meet her.” “Right.” Brody grinned. “You’re just mad because I was kicking your ass at Madden.” Mark rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s it. I’m so pissed about losing that I’m using my girlfriend as an excuse. Jesus, Brody.” Brody snickered. “You have been whipped since she moved in with you.” “Just get out.” Mark glared at him. “Man, I never thought I’d see the day. . . .” Brody dodged Mark’s half-hearted swing at his shoulder, grinning all the while. “You should be so lucky.” Mark managed to land one punch as Brody went to the door. They heard some thumps in the hallway, followed by a muffled voice. “Mice?” Brody asked, raising an eyebrow. “Nah, that’s Ryan, my neighbor,” Mark said. After more thumps, he said, “Come on, let’s see if we can help. Ryan’s got a fractured ankle. Probably needs help carrying something.” “Okay.” Brody opened the door and stepped out, Mark behind him, just in time to hear a few more thumps. Brody turned around to offer some help, and was surprised to see a woman in the hallway. She had a cast on her ankle, crutches under her arms, and he watched as she threw her purse on the floor in frustration. “Need some help?” Brody asked. The woman dropped her head, sighed, and looked up. “Sure,” she said. “It’s obviously not meant for me to do.” She ran a hand through wavy auburn hair in frustration, then tried a smile. “Hi, Mark.” “Hey. Brody, this is Ryan Bancroft. Ryan, this is Ataşehir escort my teammate, Brody Lang.” Mark squatted and started picking up the fallen items. “He’s mostly housetrained.” That got a short laugh from Ryan and a glare from Brody. Mark looked up. “How’s the ankle?” Ryan shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Not great today.” “Well, we all have bad days,” Brody said. He picked up cans and boxes as he moved forward, putting them into the plastic grocery bag they’d escaped from. He took the bag, refilled with the groceries, and gestured at the little metal cart that held a few more. “Do you need any help getting that stuff in?” “Probably.” Ryan sighed and unlocked her door. Brody followed her in and dropped his bag on the table, then went out into the hall for the cart. Mark came through with another bag and her purse, and Brody maneuvered the cart through the door and into the apartment, leaving it outside the kitchen. “Thanks, guys.” Ryan took her purse and dropped it on the counter. “I appreciate it.” Mark looked at his watch and cursed. “Ryan, I’m sorry, I’d help you put stuff away but I’ve gotta run.” “No problem, Mark,” she assured him. “Go on. I’ve got it.” “I can help,” Brody offered. Ryan shrugged as if to say it was up to him. “Sorry, Ryan,” Mark said again. “I’ll talk to you later. Bye, Brody.” He took off. “So, you’re Ryan.” Brody stared at the woman in front of him. She had on faded blue jeans, a GMU sweatshirt, and a well-worn Ümraniye escort bayan leather jacket. Auburn hair framed a slightly angular face that had a light dusting of freckles over the cheekbones. Mischievous green eyes met his own. She was not what he had expected. She gave him a half-smile as she made her way over to one of the bags. “You were expecting someone with a Y chromosome.” Brody felt guilty. “I, ah, yeah, I guess so. Mark said his neighbor was Ryan and I assumed it was a guy. Sorry.” She shook her head. “Don’t worry. It’s not the first time, won’t be the last. I should change my name.” “How about using your middle name?” Brody suggested. “I have a couple of aunts who do that.” “My middle name is Riley.” “Oh.” Brody wondered how far into his mouth his foot would fit. “Thanks.” She shook her head. “Sorry, I’m not trying to be difficult. You didn’t know, and I am grateful for the help.” Brody was silent as Ryan leaned over the cart and began pulling the bags out. When she grabbed a chair to keep from falling, he shook his head at himself and stepped over. “Here, let me.” He set the bags on the table, began taking out the contents. “Just tell me where they go,” he said. “Look,” Ryan said, shaking her head. “You don’t have to do that, I can—” “I know.” He gave her a breezy smile. “I just like making myself useful to attractive women.” Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” “Yep.” He held up a can of soup, gave Escort Bostancı her a questioning look, and turned to the cabinet she indicated. “I’m a sucker for a pretty face. Ask Mark, he’ll tell you.” Ryan laughed. “Yeah, I guess Mark has a pretty face, when it doesn’t have stitches on it.” Brody grinned. “I’ll tell him you said that.” That seemed to break the tension and Ryan sat while Brody put the rest of her groceries away. “You know, you should buy some real food sometime.” Brody closed a cabinet and turned to look at her. “I have plenty of real food.” Ryan crossed her arms in front of her. “You just put it away.” “I don’t think you had anything that wasn’t microwavable. That’s not healthy.” “I manage, thanks. Are you a chef or something?” “No.” He shrugged. “But I like to cook, and it kills me to see more fake food than real food in a person’s kitchen.” He arched an eyebrow at her. “Come on, not even bananas?” “I don’t like bananas. There are grapes in the fridge.” “I don’t believe you.” At Ryan’s wave, Brody went to the fridge and opened it. He spied a small, sad container of what might have been grapes but were halfway to being raisins. “These, Miss Bancroft, are not grapes. They are pitiful.” “I have canned peaches.” She paused. “I think.” “Stop, you’re killing me.” Brody closed the fridge and sat across from her at the table. “So, what happened?” He gestured at her leg. “I jumped off the Washington Monument.” Brody stared at her. That couldn’t be true, but she kept her eyes on his and there was no trace of a smile on her face. He thought for a minute, then said, in a tone as serious as hers, “Where did you land?” “The Reflecting Pool.” Her expression didn’t change much, but he could see the slight grin at the corners of her mouth. “Good call.” Brody nodded.

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