Throwing herself into my arms, she squeezes me so tight that I fear some of my ribs might end up bruised.

"Ry," she murmurs through her tears.

Smoothing down her hair, I press my lips against the silky softness. "I know, Mags. I know." Pressing another soft kiss to her hair, I whisper, "Sometimes, it's hard to express the words in your heart." Trust me, Mags. I know this all too well.

As I hold her tight, she eventually calms and releases me, rising to walk over to place the small toy car upon her father's gravestone. Returning to her seat beside me, she inhales deeply, wiping her cheeks before offering a bright smile.

"Ready to dig into that cake?"

"Ready."

Sitting there, eating the birthday cake individually before we get silly and began playfully feeding each other, I realize that today's a day where I can say I'm experiencing a first.

I'm attending a birthday party-for someone in a cemetery-with the woman I'm in love with.

Weird as shit, but I wouldn't change it for the world.

Except maybe the part where the woman knew I was in love with her, of course.

Chapter Thirty-One.

Maggie "What are you doing here?" I hiss at Ry.

He just showed up at the small pub a few blocks away from our apartment. Sarah and I were supposed to meet up, but she'd been called into work at the last minute, and I'd already ordered a drink. Adam had approached me, and we talked for a bit before he'd asked me if I'd be interested in playing pool.

"I'm waiting for Jack to get here." He pauses. "But right now, I'm here to protect you." He states this like it's obvious.

"From what?"

"Dude was totally trying to cop a feelski."

I stare at him. "He was not trying to cop a feelski, Ry."

He gives me an exasperated look. "Mags. Any guy who offers to get behind you so that he can"-he breaks off to use finger quotes-"'help your form' is trying to cop a feelski."

My mouth opens only to snap shut a second later. Lips pressing thin, I glare at him. "You've tried to help me with my form before."

"I was sincerely concerned that you might not hit any of the correct balls that night." His lips quiver in an attempt to restrain a smile.

With a dismissive sound, I roll my eyes, trying to tamp down my own grin threatening to break free.

"So what's so urgent with 'feelski boy' that he had to interrupt your pool game for a phone call at," Ry glances at his watch, "eight o'clock on a Saturday night?" He peers closer to where Adam stands a few feet away, leaning against the wall with the phone to his ear.

"Wait a minute." He wrinkles his nose in disgust. "Please tell me he does not have a flip phone." Turning his attention back to me, he pleads, "Tell me you're not considering having anything to do with a guy who carries a flip phone."

I swat at him. "Stop it." Glancing over at where Adam's still standing, I offer, "Maybe he's just ... frugal."

"Orrrr maybe," Ry raises his eyebrows, "he's a cheapskate."

"He's not a cheapskate. He said he owns a condo above Chianti's." This is impressive considering the fact that those condos are known to sell for no less than a million dollars.

"Then he was sent back in time from the early nineteen nineties."

I can only manage to stare at Ry. "You need to stop watching so much TV."

"And you need to stop agreeing to pool games with men who are time travelers."

"Oh, my God!" I throw up my hands in exasperation. "I'm going to go back to enjoying his company." I back away. "Later, Ry."

"Have fun going rollerblading! Be sure to ask him about his Trapper Keeper!" he calls out to me.

And, thanks to Ry, now I'm half expecting the guy to either disappear, leaving a pool of clothing at my feet like in the movie The Time Traveler's Wife, or end up talking like Arnold Schwarzenegger from The Terminator movies.

Awesome.

"Everything okay?" I offer a smile as Adam ends his call, snapping his phone shut before sliding it back into his pocket.

"Sure."

That's it. No further elaboration on that. O-kay. Well, then.

"I'm actually going to head to the restroom real quick. Then maybe we can start a game of darts?"

"Sounds good, Maggie." He flashes me a warm smile, and I turn to head to the restroom.

After I finish washing my hands in the sink and fluffing my hair a bit in the mirror, I exit the restroom in time to see Adam practically sprinting out of the pub, as if a pack of rabid dogs was nipping at his heels.

The fact that I catch the not-so-discreet fist bump between Ry and Jack says a lot. They clearly had something to do with Adam's retreat.

"What did you do?" Resting a hand on my hip, my eyes volley between the two men accusingly.

"We actually saved you, Mags." Ry answers dramatically, placing a palm over his heart.

Jack follows suit. "Indeed, we did."

Sputtering in exasperation, I glare at them. "How do you figure?"

Jack gives me a sympathetic look. "The guy had a flip phone, Maggie."

"Oh, my God." I rub my temples wearily. "Not this again."

"We saved you from being exposed to his collection of Beanie Babies," Ry says with a dramatic sigh. "That would've been terrible."

"And from his VCR tapes of all the episodes of The Power Rangers."

"Or his Tupperware collection."

"You think he really has one?" Jack's expression is one of utter seriousness.

"Totally looked like a Tupperware kinda guy."

"Stop! Please. Both of you."

They turn, faces a mask of innocence. Finally, Ry winks at me. "I should go and get us both a beer."

I offer him a reluctant nod because, apparently, he's my newly appointed evening companion.

"Well." Jack clasps his hands together. "As fun as this has been with you two crazy kids, I'm actually beat and think I'm going to have to head home." He and Ry exchange a quick hug-slap-on-the-back kind of thing before Ry heads off to get our beers.

That's when I take notice of the weariness in Jack's face. Concerned, I take a step closer, laying a hand on his arm, "Are you okay?"

Offering a tired smile, his head dips in a quick nod. "Just been a hell of a day on top of a hellacious week." He drops a quick kiss to my forehead. "Have fun."

I stop him just as he turns to leave. "Hey, Jack?"

When his eyes meet mine in question, I lose the nerve to voice my question. "Be careful going home." Crap. That wasn't at all what I meant to-wanted to-ask.

The smile he offers is different somehow, but I can't put my finger on it. "Be careful with our guy, Maggie."

With a wink, he says a soft good night, leaving me with his words swirling around in my mind and my eyes staring after him.

Be careful with our guy.

Chapter Thirty-Two.

Ry I'm about to pounce.

Like a pride of lions pounce on a weak, slow warthog. Except that I'm only one man acting alone, and my prey? It's a guy who-I'd be lying if I said otherwise-looks pretty sharp in his tailored suit vest, shirt, and pants, as he mingles with the rest of the after-work business crowd on a Friday.

Maggie's looking exceptionally hot in the dress she has on. Jesus, this morning when I was pouring coffee in my to-go mug, she came into the kitchen, heels hanging from her fingers, and I had to use the counter to hide my insta-boner. I felt like telling her to go back to her room and change because no way in hell did I like the idea of other men getting to see her throughout the day looking like that.

The dress itself isn't risque in any way, but on Maggie, it molds to her curves. And not for the first time, I wanted to shove her against the kitchen counter and fuck her silly.

Shit. That's definitely not my inner gentleman coming out. But, hell. She just looks ... fuckable. So in my fantasies, I'll fuck her silly first, and then I'll make love to her, the way I've imagined doing.

It's no surprise that, after my being held up at the office, Maggie would attract someone. It just helps that, at the precise moment I enter the bar, I see her speak to the guy before making her way toward the restroom.

Time to pounce.

"Hey, man, I'm Ry, Maggie's roommate." I lean an arm against the wall beside him, inserting myself into his personal space and smiling wide.

And, in case you're wondering, yeah, I lay on the smolder.

Letting my eyes ever so slowly drift over him, my gaze lingers on his crotch area. Long enough to make him shift with unease, his eyes going wide.

Oh, yeah. He's picking up what I'm putting down.

"So I was thinking"-I drag one fingertip down his cheek, dropping to his shoulder, drawing swirly patterns on it-"maybe after you're done with Maggie, you could, you know"-I wink slowly-"have fun with me, too."

His entire body stiffens, rigid as a board, and I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows hard. "Uh, you know what? I just remembered-"

"You've got somewhere to be?" I chime in helpfully. Because that's what I am. A helper. Just good ol' Ry, helping old ladies cross the streets, rescuing cats from trees and ...

Being a deterrent for Maggie's vagina.

"Yeah." And with that, suit guy is gone. Impressively fast. For a second there, I feel bad about not asking him who his tailor was because they did an impressive job.

Maggie's heels signify her approach, and when I hear the exacerbated firmness of the click, click, click of her favorite red-bottomed shoes, I know she's noticed the absence of suit guy.

"Ry."

My face is a mask of innocence. "Hey, Mags. Sorry, I'm late." Leaning in, I press a perfunctory kiss on her cheek. I lean back, tucking my hands in my pockets.

"Where did he go?" Her stare is intense, and I suddenly feel like I'm back in time in the principal's office for using craft glue and gluing beads into Steph Wilder's hair in art class. Steph was a grade-A bitch even back in the sixth grade, and it wasn't my fault she fell asleep in class. I thought I did a pretty bang-up job on her hair.

She didn't agree.

Nor did the art teacher. Or the principal. Or my father.

Maggie waves a hand in my face. "Hey! You just spaced out on me." When she places her hands on her hips, I wince because it thrusts out her chest, and I'd give anything to palm them ... just one- "What happened to him?"

"What happened to who?" I attempt to shake off my thoughts.

She heaves an exasperated sigh. "Matt, that's who!"

"You mean the dude in the suit?"

An exasperated eye roll is what I get next. "Yes."

Tugging on my ear, I answer as nonchalantly as possible. "He forgot he had to be somewhere."

Her eyes narrow. Frantically, I know I have to come up with something. And fast.

"He had to go out and get some evening chocolate."

Oh, fuck. That's the best I can do? Jesus. I should just stand in front of the dartboard all night as penance for that poor response.