Nate looks sheepish for a moment before he speaks up in his defense. “We’re also fashionably late, thanks to Natalie.”
Natalie rolls her eyes playfully. “Hey, I couldn’t decide on the flats or the heels. Cut a girl a break!”
“She changed her shoes like ten times.” Nate gives me a bland look.
“I finally decided on the heels,” she laughs, showing off her black, shiny shoes. “Unlike Elise, I don’t have legs that go for miles. I need a little height.”
“Hhhmmm,” I respond half-heartedly, looking over her shoulder for my date. I’d love to stand here and continue to listen to Natalie drone on about clothes and hair and make-up—okay, not really—but I’m far more interested in finding Ryder. I have no intention of being a third wheel tonight.
“So, where’s your date?” Nate asks. His delivery seems natural enough, but the eagerness in his tone grabs my attention. I quit looking for Ryder and bring my gaze to his. There’s something different about him tonight, something I can’t pinpoint. But I think it’s lurking in his eyes. There’s a secretive glint in them, like he’s uncovered something about me and is keeping the discovery all to himself. I don’t miss the way he can’t seem to hold eye contact with me for longer than a few seconds.
“He should be here soon,” I reply, the corner of my lips twitching with a ghost of a smile. He really has caught on. My cover is blown.
“Where’d you guys meet?” Natalie pipes up, her eyes alive with curiosity.
“Hate to burst your bubble, but we just met. He’s not my boyfriend. He actually works at my apartment building. He does maintenance.”
“Ohhh,” Natalie gives me a sly look. “A Mr.Fix-It type, huh? I love guys who know how to get their hands dirty.”
I glance only briefly at Natalie, quickly pinning my gaze back on Nate’s. “So do I,” I say, not missing a beat.
Nate chokes on his beer, and Natalie looks completely baffled. I’m not sure who to feel sorrier for: Nate, for trying so hard to appear comfortable, or Natalie, who has to put up with the poor guy.
I’m about to go easy on Nate and change the subject, but warm fingers on my shoulder distract me. “Hey you,” a friendly, smooth voice comes from behind me, and Natalie’s eyes widen, her mouth gaping slightly.
I glance back and find Ryder standing there, his usually disheveled hair covered by a loose, gray cable-knit beret. A long-sleeve flannel shirt is fitted to his firm build, and a dark blazer gives him just a hint of sophistication. I grin in appreciation, knowing underneath that blazer lies a bold, beautiful canvas of poetic ink…among other delectable things.
His tattoos might be covered up tonight, but his masculine good looks are on full display. He is pure ruggedness but polished, with traditional, boyish charm. His jaw line is tinged by just the right amount of hair—not yet a beard, but darker than a five o’clock shadow. His strong cheekbones and warm, intense eyes give him an earnest yet approachable look, and the scent I’ve come to recognize as uniquely Ryder’s—pine and cinnamon spice—is ever present. He’s so close, I discreetly breathe him in.
“Hey,” I say, liking the way his hand moves to the small of my back. It’s such an easy, natural movement, I almost don’t sense it, except for the fact that my body is apparently hyperaware of his hands. “You made it.”
“Yeah, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”
“Not at all. Ryder, these are my friends, Natalie and Nate. Guys, this is Ryder.” Saying I have friends is like saying I’m a nun. It’s a completely unholy union. But I don’t know how else to refer to these people. I step aside to allow them space for introductions. They turn chatty in a matter of minutes, and I’m happy to see the exchange. It helps that Nate is just as much into the outdoors as Ryder. They talk boating, camping, and hiking, and then the subject of kayaking comes up.
“Kayaking’s like a religion around here,” Nate says as we all walk side by side down the town’s main drag. “We should all go some time.”
“You’ve never been kayaking?” Ryder asks with interest.
“Nah, I’m still new to town. I’m from the desert. Well, and the concrete jungle. Phoenix.” He shrugs. “I’m dying to get out and try it, though.”
“Maybe we can camp one weekend,” Natalie says, locking arms with Nate. She eyes me and Ryder, her gaze falling on his left hand. It’s still casually resting against my lower back as we stroll down the sidewalk. Little sparks tickle the skin beneath my sweater where his fingers rest.
“I’d be game for that,” Ryder says. “What about you, Elise?”
“Sure, maybe,” I shrug, keeping my arms crossed over my chest. I’ve never been opposed to the great outdoors. It’s hard to reside in the Pacific Northwest and not be drawn in to its natural beauty. But being here tonight is already so out of my element, I have no idea how I’d function a whole weekend in such an intimate social situation.
I remind myself I came here strictly to get Natalie off my back, and that Ryder’s company is just a plus.
“Oh, I want to try those,” Natalie gasps, her eyes widening to the size of golf balls as she hones in on a huge selection of brownies at a nearby food booth. I have to admit the smell of warm, gooey chocolate coming from the tent is divine, and I’m tempted to try some myself.
Ryder seems to notice this, and his hand suddenly finds mine. “You want to try something here?” He looks down at me, all the while gently tugging my fingers to pull me toward the booth. Natalie has already dragged Nate over for a taste.
“Sure,” I say, “it smells so good.”
Ryder sends me a crooked smile and takes the lead, ordering two salted caramel brownies and two small hot chocolates. “Hope you’re in the mood to overdose on chocolate tonight.” He hands me a scorching cup of cocoa and grabs some napkins, tilting his chin to gesture to a nearby bench.
“Hey, I’m not complaining. Chocolate is my weakness.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Guilty as charged,” I say, taking a seat on the bench next to him. Nate and Natalie have found themselves fascinated with the blown glass art tent next to the chocolate booth. I watch them being all coupley, strolling along together and studying the collections of delicate ornaments and paperweights as they bite into their warm, fresh brownies. I’m immersed in their innocence for a moment, but I’m quickly drawn back to my conversation with Ryder.
He sips his hot cocoa and lazily drapes an arm around the back of the bench. “A woman after my own heart.”
“Chocolate is your weakness, too?”
“Oh yeah, big time. That and other things.”
“Like?” I challenge him, taking a small bite of my sweet treat. Just as I suspected, it’s divine.
“Broken, beautiful things.”
I swallow the piece of brownie and flutter my lashes. “Well, that’s a loaded response.”
“It’s true.” He lifts a shoulder and his head tilts to the side. “Ever since I was a kid. In elementary school, I found this bird on the playground one day. He couldn’t fly. Broken wing. He was this shade of blue that just stopped me in my tracks. I picked him up before any of the other little shitheads found him, and one of the teachers called an animal rehab center down the road. They came and took him, fixed him right up.”
“Wow. Ryder, the bird whisperer.”
White teeth flash as he laughs, shaking his head. “I’m telling you, I’m doomed. I’m a sucker for that shit.”
“So, you’re an animal person?” It wouldn’t surprise me, considering his love for nature and the outdoors.
“Yeah, I prefer animals to people half the time, to be honest.”
“Should I be worried?”
“You’re an exception.” His hand moves from the back of the bench and his fingers brush the nape of my neck, massaging lightly. I resist the urge to melt into the touch. He’s a fine specimen of male, and any other time, I wouldn’t think twice about letting him come on to me, but tonight is different.
I discreetly str
aighten my back and lean forward, redirecting the conversation. He tells me he’s 24 and that he used to live in Portland. He likes to move around a lot and staying in one place too long makes him go crazy.
“The Northwest suits me, though,” he says, tossing his cup into the trash bin next to the bench. “Guess that’s why I keep coming back.”
“You live here, in Gig Harbor? Or do you commute?”
“For now, yeah. I like it here. Good people, good food, good kayaking. Can’t complain.”
“Where else have you traveled?”
“All over the U.S. Since I was 20, anyway. I wasn’t interested in the whole college thing. I just want to live, you know? All I need is my dog, my books, and this.” He opens his arms, gesturing to our surroundings.
“Good for you,” I say earnestly, with a brisk nod. “You sound like you really have your shit together.”
“Ha.” He looks out at the harbor. “Tell my parents that.”
“They don’t approve of the way you live?”
“Hell no. They wanted me to go to an Ivy League school, sell my soul to society, and make them proud so I could give them bragging rights to all of their hoity-toity friends back home.”
“Where’s back home?”
“Connecticut.”
I suddenly have a vision of Ryder, living in the wilderness, eating twigs and berries, and hunting game—while cringing at the thought of hurting an animal. He certainly picked the farthest point on the map from his parents, and I don’t blame him. I know firsthand just how toxic your own family can be. It doesn’t matter that you share their blood. It doesn’t even matter if they love you. They can love you, but not respect you. That’s still love, but a different kind. It’s not the kind I’m interested in, and Ryder clearly isn’t, either.
I follow Ryder’s eyes, allowing my gaze to trail out to the open harbor, where the dark water meets the faint silhouette of the mountains. I’m about to ask him something else, but Natalie and Nate step in front of us, their noses and cheeks red from the cold.
“We got sidetracked,” Nate said, slipping an arm around his girlfriend. Natalie’s holding a plastic bag that wasn’t there before.
“Yeah, we saw shiny things and couldn’t resist. You guys ready to walk?”
“Sure,” Ryder says, blinking like he’s returning from a trance. He moves to stand and extends a hand to me as I rise.
The four of us mosey around for the next two hours, listening to live bands and filling up on assorted fair foods. Nate and Ryder try beers from different countries, and Natalie and I indulge in a few glasses of red wine, as well as some early Christmas shopping. Two funnel cakes and a pitcher of hot cider later, and we’re all thoroughly stuffed and ready to head home.
I toss my bags into my trunk and begin saying goodnight to Nate and Natalie, thanking them for inviting me out. I didn’t buy much, just a Christmas tree ornament for Jay and his family, and a vanilla-scented candle for my bedside, but it’s enough to make me feel domestic and like I belong to something for a few hours.
“See you at work?” Natalie asks, wrapping me in a hug. My return hug isn’t nearly as enthusiastic as hers, but I make an effort. The girl isn’t that bad. She’s not Tee—there will never be another Tee—but she doesn’t look at me like I’m a leper, and she has good taste when it comes to shopping.
“Yup, bright and early.”
“Drive safe.”
“You, too.”
She and Nate exchange pleasantries with Ryder, and Natalie is gushing about how over the moon she is that he came tonight. Nate looks a bit embarrassed by how thick Natalie’s laying it on, but he goes along with it, shaking Ryder’s hand and telling him he’s holding him to those camping plans. Nate gives me a quick wave and doesn’t let his wandering eyes linger.
“They’re cool,” Ryder says as they disappear down the sidewalk.
“Yeah, they’re nice.” I lean back on my car door, watching them fade into the night.
“Have you known them long?”
“No, not really. Natalie’s somewhat new to the diner I work at, and I just met Nate.”
“You’re a waitress?”
“Yup.” I nod my head to Stella’s, and Ryder’s grin spreads.
“You work right here?”
“Yes, sir. Practically live here.”
“Good to know.” His grin turns devious, and I’m instantly smitten with the playful glint in his eyes.
“I don’t know if you’re a breakfast person, but their French toast is out of this world.”
“Ohhhh,” his eyes squint into little slits and he grips his stomach. “French toast is my weakness.”
I laugh. There’s something sexy about a guy with an appetite. “I thought chocolate was. And poor, defenseless animals.”
“And other things…” He steps forward, placing himself in front of me. “Like beautiful blondes with tattoos in unmentionable places.” He smirks and gently hooks one thumb in the belt loop of my jeans, giving my hip a nudge to push me back against the car door. The motion is super light but full of confidence.
Desire stirs low in my abdomen and my breath falters.
“Ryder…”
“I had a great time tonight.”
“Yeah?” My gaze rolls upwards, locking with his, and he stares down with smoky, hooded brown pools.
“You kinda scared me that day when I showed up at your door. I thought you were going to bust out a shot gun or something.” A small laugh bubbles up. I really was on a warpath that day. I don’t regret that he stumbled into my line of fire, though. “I’m glad you didn’t. ‘Cause I really wanted to do this.” He reaches up and brushes a strand of hair from my cheek, then steps closer, so his legs are flush with mine. “And this.” His words are low and rough as he moves in, planting a feather-light kiss on my lips.
Time stops and the lights on the surrounding trees feel brighter, almost blinding against my closed lids.
The warmth is entirely too intimate but he feels so damn good, and the discovery that he not only smells like cinnamon spice and Christmas morning but tastes like it, too, unhinges me. I’m freefalling into his scent, into the soft pleasure of his mouth. This must be what a kiss feels like. I immediately feel like I’ve been gypped my whole life, because I’m certain right now that I’ve never had one before.
“Ryder,” I say again, breathless, “I have to go.” I feel Christian all over me, in my veins, underneath my skin. Just hours ago, my limbs were tangled with his, my lipstick was on his pillow, and his cock was in my mouth. I’m waiting for Ryder to see traces of him any second and call me out for being exactly what I am.
Elise Duchamp—notorious, home wrecking whore.
His head juts back slightly and he freezes. A beat passes and his feet catch up with what his mind has just registered. He steps back and puts his hands into his pockets, allowing me to reclaim my personal space. “Oh, okay. Yeah, it’s getting late.”
“Ryder, I—”
“Hey,” he shrugs with a light laugh, looking down, “don’t worry about it. You have to work early, you should go.”
I hesitate but push myself off the car door to turn around and let myself in the driver seat. “Thanks for everything. I had…tonight was nice for me, too.” I don’t say another word. I shut the car door and start the engine, my hands shaky as I buckle the seatbelt.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I inhale a few deep breaths and get ready to back out, glancing out the window first. I can’t look at him. I just can’t.
But I don’t have to, because he’s already gone.
People stroll by in front of Stella’s, hand in hand, some with children, some with dogs. The street’s festival lighting looks just as beautiful as it did before I got in the car, and the celebratory spirit still permeates the air, but I feel cold, and no amount of heat from the car’s heater can warm the chill in my bones.
CHAPTER 6
My worst fears come true the next morning at work, and fo
r a whole week after that. Natalie flaps her gums about Ryder nonstop, asking a million questions. Where does he live? Who is his ex-girlfriend? When will I see him again? Have we hooked up? Am I into him? Have I been avoiding him?
On and on the inquisition goes, and I am sure by now that she should’ve gotten the hint—I don’t want to talk about Ryder.
I change the subject over and over again, and the more she tries to chat, the more withdrawn I become. The girl is nice, but she exhausts me. This is what I get for trying to be social for one night in my life. I get stuck with a bubbly, nosey girl who doesn’t know how to take a hint. If I thought she was dense before, I have been living under a rock. Because this girl absolutely believes that somewhere between sharing a funnel cake and a glass of wine at the holiday festival, we’ve become BFFs.
It’s Saturday morning and my arm aches from scrubbing down the table tops. It feels good to pour all of my frustration out into wiping down the counters. I’m thankful Natalie doesn’t work this morning, because I’d probably snap.
“You okay over there, hon?” Jay asks, adding rolls of coins to the register. We’ve just wrapped up our early morning rush and the place is starting to thin out. We won’t get another rush until late morning, when the lunch crowd begins to trickle in. I’m serving with Brad this morning, and he’s uncharacteristically grumpy today. Usually, he greets me with a big bear hug and does a little jig around the breakfast bar.
“I’m okay,” I say to Jay, giving my aching arm a break. “I think it’s Brad you have to worry about this morning.” I smirk and roll my eyes in Brad’s direction, and Jay laughs.
“I can hear you,” Brad says from the other end of the diner. He’s sweeping up a heap of hash browns some kid spilled all over the booth. “Quit talking about me like I’m not right here.”
“What crawled up your butt this morning, brother?” Jay chuckles, and there’s a shrill ding from the register. I don’t know how he still uses that thing. It’s so damn old.
“Let’s see,” Brad drawls, picking up the dust pan. “Got a speeding ticket on my way to work, lost 300 bucks playing cards last night, and my girlfriend dumped me when I got in late with empty pockets.” Brad’s gaze jumps to mine for a second and I look away, knowing Jay is watching us. The news doesn’t surprise me. Brad and his girlfriend have been having problems for a while now. I should know. I’ve been sleeping in her bed.
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