‘IQ test FAIL, Ryan! I’ll rephrase so you can understand… Did you, or did you not- name yourself Ryan Weaver, after the character in this book?’
Ryan was rubbing his head and glaring at her. ‘Okay for starters- I’ve never read that book. Secondly- I didn’t name myself- the woman who rescued me did- and thirdly... my name’s in that book? Cool.’ He swiped it from her hand and flipped it over, his eyes scanning the blurb.
He didn’t name himself? Oh my gosh!
After about ten seconds of reading, Ryan smirked ‘...Undying love… erotic romance…’ his eyes lifted to hers. ‘Huh. Case in point…’ he looked down again and read on and then suddenly, his face drew tighter. ‘Musician Ryan Weaver? Niagara Falls?’ He looked up at her, a puzzled expression on his face. ‘For real?’
Leigh was too stuck on one of the first things he’d said to answer him. ‘You were named by the woman who rescued you?’
Ryan nodded, flipping the book over and studying the front. ‘Sort of.’ He held up his right hand and wriggled the pewter ring at her. Up close, Leigh could see that it was a simple silver band with deeply etched music notes ringing it, and that the pads of three of his fingers were calloused. ‘This ring was all I was wearing when I was found and it says ‘For Ryan’ inside the band. And Imogen suggested Weaver as a surname, reckoned it suited me and I love the song Dream Weaver so I agreed thinking it would just be temporary, you know? Until my real name came back to me...’ He held up the book and took a step closer to her. ‘Who is Kathryn Praser? I’ve never heard of her before but it seems like she’s heard of me... When was this published?’
‘A year ago,’ Leigh said quietly, while her mind slapped desperately at the thought of: ‘His name is ACTUALLY Ryan?!’ To get a grip on it, but slid off clumsily.
Ryan lifted his eyebrows. ‘But I wasn’t Ryan Weaver a year ago. I don’t know who I was, but I couldn’t have been a busker in Niagara Falls named Ryan Weaver, or someone would have recognised me by now, wouldn’t they?’
‘You’d assume as much…’
His name is Ryan? His name is Ryan!! What the hell?
Ryan’s face screwed up as he retreated into his own mind. ‘But… but if Imogen correctly guessed my last name… then she must have been a psychic or something, right? Or she knew more about me than she let on...?’
‘Or she was just a fan,’ Leigh pointed out; quietly rocked by him, and the certainty she suddenly had regarding his innocence. If he was playing dumb, then he ought to have been going for a Golden Globe rather than a Grammy because he looked genuinely lost. ‘Not of you, as you presumed I meant last night; a reader, not a music lover.’
Ryan arched one brow at her. ‘That’s what you were saying? When you called yourself a fan?’ He tapped the book with one finger. ‘You meant, of the author’s?’
No. I meant of the author’s creation, Ryan Weaver. But your answer is a lot less mortifying, so let’s stick with that, shall we?
‘That’s precisely what I meant.’ She nodded to the book. ‘It’s my favourite. It’s set here- and I came here because it made me want to see Niagara for myself. Then I step off the bus and- poof- Ryan Clone singing a jukebox track, just like in the book.’
Ryan’s eyes were hooded with scepticism. ‘So… when I assumed that you meant you were a fan of mine, and that you recognised me because we’d…’ he read the answer in her eyes, and had the grace to redden and look away. ‘Okay… okay I get it now.’
‘And I get why you assumed that,’ she admitted grudgingly, ‘but only now that I know that you’re memories have been erased.’ She tugged on her ponytail again. ‘But if other women are constantly running up to you all excited, taking pictures with you- or cussing you out like I did, as Bruce said, then I think it’s safe to assume that they all either associate you with Ryan
Ryan was rubbing his head and glaring at her. ‘Okay for starters- I’ve never read that book. Secondly- I didn’t name myself- the woman who rescued me did- and thirdly... my name’s in that book? Cool.’ He swiped it from her hand and flipped it over, his eyes scanning the blurb.
He didn’t name himself? Oh my gosh!
After about ten seconds of reading, Ryan smirked ‘...Undying love… erotic romance…’ his eyes lifted to hers. ‘Huh. Case in point…’ he looked down again and read on and then suddenly, his face drew tighter. ‘Musician Ryan Weaver? Niagara Falls?’ He looked up at her, a puzzled expression on his face. ‘For real?’
Leigh was too stuck on one of the first things he’d said to answer him. ‘You were named by the woman who rescued you?’
Ryan nodded, flipping the book over and studying the front. ‘Sort of.’ He held up his right hand and wriggled the pewter ring at her. Up close, Leigh could see that it was a simple silver band with deeply etched music notes ringing it, and that the pads of three of his fingers were calloused. ‘This ring was all I was wearing when I was found and it says ‘For Ryan’ inside the band. And Imogen suggested Weaver as a surname, reckoned it suited me and I love the song Dream Weaver so I agreed thinking it would just be temporary, you know? Until my real name came back to me...’ He held up the book and took a step closer to her. ‘Who is Kathryn Praser? I’ve never heard of her before but it seems like she’s heard of me... When was this published?’
‘A year ago,’ Leigh said quietly, while her mind slapped desperately at the thought of: ‘His name is ACTUALLY Ryan?!’ To get a grip on it, but slid off clumsily.
Ryan lifted his eyebrows. ‘But I wasn’t Ryan Weaver a year ago. I don’t know who I was, but I couldn’t have been a busker in Niagara Falls named Ryan Weaver, or someone would have recognised me by now, wouldn’t they?’
‘You’d assume as much…’
His name is Ryan? His name is Ryan!! What the hell?
Ryan’s face screwed up as he retreated into his own mind. ‘But… but if Imogen correctly guessed my last name… then she must have been a psychic or something, right? Or she knew more about me than she let on...?’
‘Or she was just a fan,’ Leigh pointed out; quietly rocked by him, and the certainty she suddenly had regarding his innocence. If he was playing dumb, then he ought to have been going for a Golden Globe rather than a Grammy because he looked genuinely lost. ‘Not of you, as you presumed I meant last night; a reader, not a music lover.’
Ryan arched one brow at her. ‘That’s what you were saying? When you called yourself a fan?’ He tapped the book with one finger. ‘You meant, of the author’s?’
No. I meant of the author’s creation, Ryan Weaver. But your answer is a lot less mortifying, so let’s stick with that, shall we?
‘That’s precisely what I meant.’ She nodded to the book. ‘It’s my favourite. It’s set here- and I came here because it made me want to see Niagara for myself. Then I step off the bus and- poof- Ryan Clone singing a jukebox track, just like in the book.’
Ryan’s eyes were hooded with scepticism. ‘So… when I assumed that you meant you were a fan of mine, and that you recognised me because we’d…’ he read the answer in her eyes, and had the grace to redden and look away. ‘Okay… okay I get it now.’
‘And I get why you assumed that,’ she admitted grudgingly, ‘but only now that I know that you’re memories have been erased.’ She tugged on her ponytail again. ‘But if other women are constantly running up to you all excited, taking pictures with you- or cussing you out like I did, as Bruce said, then I think it’s safe to assume that they all either associate you with Ryan
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