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safe.”
    “It’s just...you’re nothing like what my grandfather used to preach about.”
    “Huh?”

Chapter Seven
     
    Jen tried not to stare, but she couldn’t help it. Ryan was so attractive. Nothing like the women her grandfather described as being homosexual. She wasn’t wearing men’s clothing. Well, no more than she herself was, she thought as she glanced at her jeans and boots. Ryan wasn’t pretending to be a man, like her grandfather said they did. She looked normal . And as sheltered a life as Jen had had, in the last seven or eight years she’d been exposed to a lot. It wasn’t as if she’d been living under a rock. And she was a fan of Sara Michaels’ work and she too was normal. But still...
    “You’re staring,” Ryan said without looking up from her laptop.
    “I’m sorry.”
    Jen quickly turned her attention to her journal, her fingers lightly tapping the keys at random, no words coming to her. Ryan, on the other hand, seemed to be writing furiously, her fingers flying across the keys in a graceful motion. They stilled, and Jen realized she was staring again.
    “Look, it’s not like I’m an alien or anything,” Ryan said. “Just a woman, nothing more, nothing less.”
    “I’m sorry,” Jen said again.
    Ryan let out a heavy breath. “You have questions. Ask.”
    “My grandfather said...well, never mind.”
    “Yeah, what’s with your grandfather?”
    Jen bit her lip. “He was a preacher. A minister,” she said. “He and my grandmother raised me.”
    Ryan’s smile was humorless. “Great,” she said dryly. “I’ve rescued a homophobe.”
    “He died,” Jen blurted out. “Last year.”
    “And?”
    Jen took a deep breath, wondering why she felt the need to explain. “I was extremely sheltered. My mother was fifteen when I was born. She was the epitome of the wild preacher’s daughter,” she said. “Drugs, alcohol...and sex.”
    “So they raised you?”
    “Yes. And every transgression and sin that my mother committed, I paid for. I was homeschooled,” she said. “I had no friends to speak of. And I was socially inept.” She glanced at Ryan. “Still am in some respects.”
    “I see. So you’re not a homophobe then?”
    “No. I don’t think so. I just don’t have any gay friends. Not that I’m insinuating you and I are friends,” she added quickly. “I was just...surprised, I guess. Socially inept and all,” she said with a smile.
    “Well, they must have done something right,” Ryan said. “You’ve written three books.”
    Jen laughed. “Self- help books,” she corrected. “Something I kept a secret from them, by the way. They wouldn’t approve.” She leaned back, staring at the ceiling, picturing her grandfather’s face. Oh, she could only imagine his scorn. “I grew up in West Texas, near Lubbock,” she said.
    “That explains the accent then,” Ryan said.
    “I don’t have an accent,” she insisted. “I worked very hard to lose it.”
    “Okay, you don’t have an accent,” Ryan said, appeasing her.
    Jen grinned at her, then looked away. “My mother got arrested when she was nineteen. That’s when my grandparents got legal custody of me. My mother wasn’t around much after that. I’d see her a couple of times a year when she’d come around for money.” Jen glanced at her again, seeing that she had Ryan’s full attention. “Because she was so bad, they were extra strict with me. I mean, I couldn’t do anything . But since I didn’t have any friends, there weren’t a lot of options anyway.”
    “Homeschooled all the way through?”
    “Yes.” Jen laughed. “If they could have figured out a way, I’m certain they would have homeschooled me for my college degree as well. But it was nearly that bad. They would not hear of me staying in the dorms. They allowed me to go all the way to Lubbock—forty miles away—to college,” she said sarcastically, “and to stay with a friend of theirs. A widow. A very bitter woman who never