“Can I have a turn?” I am more than ready to ditch the direction of this conversation.
“Okay. Shoot.”
“If you had a million dollars and could do anything in the world, what would you do?”
He furrows his brow, shaking his head as he scans the room. “Damn, I don’t know. That’s a tough question. I hate that question.” He keeps one hand firmly around my waist and runs the other over his head, rumpling his dark brown hair. “Donate a shit ton of money to causes I care about, read all day, live out in the middle of the woods and become a recluse…I don’t know, go to Europe, I guess.”
I study him as I digest his response, and instantly want to know more. “What’s your favorite book?” He huffs and lets his head fall back on the edge of the couch. I take advantage of his position and lean in to kiss his exposed throat. His Adam’s apple bobs beneath my lips.
“These are not valid questions for Truth and Bare,” he groans playfully.
“Says who?”
“Says me, that’s who.”
“How are your questions any more valid than mine?”
“What’s your favorite book?” he mocks, lifting his head back up. “Asking a bibliophile that question is pure evil. There’s no way I can choose only one, and if you make me choose one, you’re forcing me to betray the hundreds of other books that have knocked me on my ass and shaped my soul. If you ask me that, you’re the devil.”
“Okay, then. I’m the devil. Get over it. Answer the question.”
His eyes narrow and his lips swish to the side with a smile. He plants a hand on his chest like I’ve just shot him. “How can you be so cold hearted?”
“It just comes naturally, I guess.” I look down and begin playing with the hem of his shirt. An unwelcome cloud of gloom drifts over me.
His fingers find my chin and he pulls my gaze back to his. “Hey.” Smoothing a thumb along my jawline, he pauses then lets his hand fall back to my hip. “I’ll answer the question.”
“Forget it.” I smile and square my shoulders, lifting my chin. “I have another one.”
“Okay…” he regards me curiously, a trace of mirth still glimmering in his gaze.
“Have you ever hurt someone?”
The fleck of humor disintegrates and the muscles in his neck flex. His light is gone, but he works hard to keep his gaze on mine. “I’m sure I have.”
“Intentionally?”
“Not intentionally. No.”
“Has anyone ever hurt you?”
“Of course.” A quiet sigh escapes him and he sits back and removes his hands from my hips, letting his elbows rest behind on the sofa. His gaze drops for a few seconds to admire my half-naked state. That ghost of a smile of his appears, and I want to crawl inside his mind and know exactly what he’s thinking as he’s ogling me. Ten bucks says I have a good guess, though.
“Wait.” He seems to shake his thoughts, shifting beneath me. We’re both struggling to maintain focus, but he seems just as intent as I am to finish the game. “Are we talking like bodily harm, here? Or relationships. Or hurt in general?”
“Yeah, any kind of hurt.”
“What if I tell you I’ve killed someone?”
“Not funny.”
“Not for you, it isn’t. You’re the one locked in a cabin in the woods with me.” He grins cheekily and reaches to give my hip a squeeze. I buckle to the side and an uncontrollable giggle slips out. “Oh damn, you’re ticklish, too? You just keep getting sexier and sexier, Elise Duchamp.”
“Stop!” I shriek, thrashing on his lap like a fish out of water. “Ryder, stop!”
He digs at my hip again, sending me tumbling into an endless fit of laughter. My lungs burn because I can’t breathe and my sides ache from the exertion. I topple over and land on my side, and Ryder comes with me, sliding on top of me in one smooth, swift movement. “I think we’ve played enough games for today,” he says, running the palms of his hands up the sides of my thighs. His thumbs roll slow, soothing circles into my skin before hooking into the sides of my panties to peel them down my legs. My laughter subsides and I look up at him, my chest heaving as I regain my breath. We lie there on the floor in a tangled heap of limbs, while the fire’s warmth gives Ryder’s face a soft glow.
Small pops crackle from the fire and gravitate toward us, saturating the silence.
Lowering his forehead to my shoulder, Ryder kisses the skin there. “Do you feel it yet?”
“Feel what?” Desolation? Helplessness? Excitement? I feel all of those things.
“This.” Ryder’s hand slides down my chest and torso like silk, slipping beneath my skirt, easy as breathing. I gasp as his fingers slip inside of me. “Desire. The same kind I feel for you.”
“You know I do.”
He strokes me for a moment then stops, leaving me panting while he reaches back to the couch to pick up the bowl of ice cream. It’s melted now, each color swirling together like mixed paint. “Feed me,” he whispers, lifting the bowl to me.
My dazed gaze drifts to the bowl. I hesitantly sit up on my elbows and cradle it, watching him curiously as I begin to spoon him the milky leftovers. He accepts a spoonful, then another, groaning in appreciation. He pushes the spoon away when he’s satisfied and I set the bowl down, watching as he brings my hand to his lips. Sucking one finger then the next, he moves slowly from tip to tip, drawing me farther and farther away from our question-and-answer session.
“Ryder,” I breathe.
He closes his lips over my right index finger and sucks, drawing it slowly from his mouth. The mixture of cool and warm coats my skin, and I wonder how I’ll ever enjoy ice cream without Ryder after tonight. “I really want this,” he says. “Us.”
I shut my eyes and he moves in, brushing his lips against mine. “You have us. Right here.”
“Do I?”
My eyes drift open.
He deepens the kiss, murmuring against my mouth. “I’ll never just drive away, Elise Duchamp.”
The words zap me like a stun gun. My voice comes out in a light rasp. Small and breathless. “I’ve hurt people, Ryder.”
He studies me for a moment but doesn’t respond, only deepens his kiss. I cave into him, letting him devour me whole. I don’t know what I can give him. I don’t know if I have anything at all. But I do know that Ryder Jacobson is trouble.
The good kind.
CHAPTER 12
My tattoo seems to tingle on my hip, as if the bird’s feathers are itching at my skin, reminding me it’s there. When one wants, one can.
I scratch at my hipbone as I drive to work, lost in memories of the night before. Ryder and I hadn’t moved from the cabin’s living room floor, except to cook a late dinner and to roast marshmallows over the fire. We’d indulged our bodies, spoiling ourselves rotten in pleasure until I insisted he drive me home so I could have a hot shower and get some sleep before work today. My stomach is in knots, twisting and turning with the realization that Ryder isn’t planning on going anywhere any time soon. Even more pressing is the reality that I don’t want him to.
My hair is quickly thrown up and my apron is tied around my waist as I rush to the kitchen to find Natalie. A relentless feeling drives into me, urging me forward. “Um…hey, Nat?”
She’s fumbling with order slips on the line-up, looking flustered, as usual. When she hears me, she turns in surprise. “Hey, Elise. What’s up?”
My wrists float behind my back, my fingers toying with the apron strings even though they’re already secured. “Hey, before I start waiting tables, I just wanted to let you know that I’m…I’m free tonight. After my shift, I mean. Thought maybe I could take you up on that meal. If you’re still up for it, that is.” Natalie’s expression reveals genuine surprise, her brows lifting and eyes widening in what I think is shock. She’s in shock, but I’m just speechless once the words come out of my mouth.
This is one fucked-up move on my part.
“Oh! Sure, of course. You want to do dinner, maybe?”
&n
bsp; “Yeah.” I tug at the hem of my skirt. “Sounds good. I’m done at five, so…”
“How about I pick you up at your place around six? I’m getting ready to clock out. I just need to finish up these orders.”
“Okay, how about I meet you somewhere instead?”
“No problem. Just pick a place and call me when you’re ready to go out.”
“That works.”
“Yay!” She pins the last of the order slips to the line-up and gives me a smile before shouting out orders to the cooks. I take that as my opportunity to escape from the kitchen and dash back out into the restaurant. My heart’s pounding.
There’s no way I can ever take back what I’ve done to Natalie, and I don’t expect to. I don’t expect anything, really. All I want is to try to move on, no matter how much of a bitch that makes me.
I already know what I am. No use in groveling over the truth.
Nate hasn’t been around since he and Natalie broke up, and I haven’t heard a word from him since the day he left my apartment. Things are settling down, and spending time with Ryder flipped a switch in my mind. Things look different, even taste different. Like Stella’s famous French toast.
Even though it is a town favorite, I was never actually a fan. It tasted soggy to me. And far too bland. Now the syrup swirls on my tongue like irresistible nectar, and the cinnamon awakens my taste buds, heightening all of my senses. Including my curiosity.
I haven’t been a friend to anyone in…well, since Tee was in town. I don’t even know where to begin. It probably doesn’t help matters that I’m choosing Natalie of all the girls in Gig Harbor as my guinea pig, but it’s not like I have a line of girls looking to make friends, rolling up to my doorstep saying, sign me up. I have to start somewhere, and if Nate is out of the picture, it’s worth trying to salvage. I can’t hurt Natalie any more than I already have. The damage is done. It’s me who has to suffer. Every time I speak to her—even look at her—I’m reminded of what I’ve done. This could be possibly the stupidest idea or the smartest idea, depending on how I look at it.
Today I choose to look on the bright side.
I saunter up to my first table of the afternoon, a good-looking guy in his thirties checking me out as I flip open my notepad to take his order. He smiles at me, all charming and debonair, but I’m all business.
Only one charming smile affects me lately, and it is nowhere to be found in this restaurant.
“Is that all?” I ask after I take his order, clicking my pen.
“Actually, no. Can I interest you in dinner tonight? I’d love to take you out.” The guy’s blue eyes sparkle and I take in his spiffy suit jacket, which is black and crisp to perfection. He’s sharp. A businessman. Like Christian. I think I’ve seen him here before.
As if he can read my mind, he clears his throat and his smile widens. “I’m Chase. You’ve waited on me before. I’ve just been trying to work up the nerve to ask you out.”
“Ah,” I tap my pen on the notepad, “I thought I had seen you before.”
“Well, I’ve most definitely seen you.” He pulls at his tie and locks me with a confident gaze. This guy is all white teeth, fitness model body, and money. I’ve been with a handful of men like him. Beautiful, but not Ryder.
Habit suddenly takes over and I playfully run the tip of my pen over my bottom lip, unleashing a small smile as I drop my chin and peer down at him. “That’s sweet, but I’m kind of seeing someone.” Those words have never left my mouth before. I lean in and place my hand over his, giving him a light squeeze. He looks down at the contact, laughing under his breath.
“That’s a damn shame,” he says, lifting his gaze back to mine. With a knowing smile, he retrieves his wallet from his back pocket and hands me a business card. “If things don’t work out, give me a call. The offer stands.”
I make sure to let him see me give the card a good, thorough scan, and then slip it in my back pocket as I move to step away. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, grinning over my shoulder as I turn for the kitchen. Jay’s voice distracts me before I disappear through the doorway. He’s laughing.
Not that Jay laughing is strange. He’s a friendly guy, probably one of the happiest people I know, actually. But this laugh is different. It’s sincere and hearty to the core, and it’s not alone. Ryder’s laugh is mingling with it, natural and breezy, as if they’ve known each other for years.
I glance at the entrance, where Jay and Ryder are strolling in with bags in their hands. My feet take a cue from my curiosity and begin to carry me over to them. “Hey, you two,” I say, waving gingerly. This is just all sorts of weird. “So…what’s going on?”
“Hey there, hon,” Jay grins, his cheeks rosy with warm merriment. “Ryder was just telling me all about the trouble his pup gets into. Reminds me of our labs at home. They can be quite rambunctious, you know.”
“Okay…”
“Hey,” Ryder says, moving to kiss me on the cheek. He and Jay are holding paper bags, loaded up with books. Old paperbacks, from the looks of it.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to steal you away for the afternoon.”
“I work until five.”
Jay chuckles and sets his paper bags down on the counter near the register, then reaches for Ryder’s bags. “Go on,” he says, shooing Ryder away. “We’re good here.”
“You’re what?” I pipe up, confusion wrinkling my forehead.
“Ryder bought me off today,” Jay explains, waving his hands nonchalantly. “Bribed me with books I’ve never read—that he swears are life-changing, or something—and a damn good breakfast.”
“Books?” My brows lift. “And breakfast?”
“Yeah,” Jay claps Ryder’s back, “over at his cabin. Really great place. Anyway, I’m here just in time to take over for you. Give me that notepad and scat.”
I don’t move. “You had breakfast…at Ryder’s cabin?”
“Sure did, hon. You look confused.”
“I am confused. You’re going to wait tables? My tables?”
Jay scoffs and shakes his head. “Like I’ve never waited a table before. Yes, hon, I’m going to wait tables. Now you two get out of here before I change my mind. Go on, get!”
Ryder smiles and grabs my hand, quickly pulling me away. Stunned, I forget to hand Jay my order pad, but Ryder snatches it for me just in time and tosses it to Jay before he whisks me out the front door.
“What—where are we going?” I ask, shivering the second the cold air hits me. “I need my coat!”
“Here,” Ryder says, opening the Jeep passenger door. He hands me a leather jacket that’s draped on the seat and helps me inside, quickly jogging to the driver’s side. He cranks the heat up the second he starts the engine. “We have to get moving if we want to get there on time.”
“Get where? What’s going on? Since when are you all chummy with my boss?” I slip on the leather jacket and zip it up, thankful for the cozy warmth.
“I told you I have a weakness for beautiful blondes with tattoos in unmentionable places.” He shrugs coolly and pulls out in reverse. “They make me do crazy things.” He turns up the radio until Eddie Vedder’s version of “Society” blares loudly, drowning everything else out. He guns the engine and we’re off, leaving Stella’s in the dust.
***
Hot chocolate warms my frigid fingers as we step off the ferry from Seattle to Bainbridge Island.
Ryder is right. He has indeed gone crazy.
After corralling me into his Jeep and leaving Gig Harbor, he headed for downtown Seattle, where we caught the ferry over to Bainbridge. Ryder hails a taxi the minute we step off of the landing, and the next thing I know, I’m strolling up to a tattoo shop on Madison Avenue.
“You can’t be serious,” I say, beaming at him despite my disbelief.
“I thought you loved ink.”
“I do, I just…” Eyeing the shop sign above us, I drag in a deep breath. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m sti
ll getting used to spending time with a man outside of a bedroom, or maybe it’s because I’m still surprised to be whisked off to Bainbridge Island for the afternoon, but adrenaline is pulsing in my blood and I’m completely floored by the fact that Ryder thought to bring me here. Some girls find flowers and chocolate romantic, but this? This is my kind of romance. Art and ink and blood. It’s damn sexy, and the gesture has rendered me speechless.
“Come in and meet Tracy,” Ryder says, taking my hand. “We have all afternoon, so get whatever you want, baby. It’s on me.”
“Holy shit,” I whisper as he leads me inside. It’s a small, clean shop, nestled into a line of stores that seem to be off the beaten path from the rest of downtown Bainbridge. Everything about it feels removed from the more upscale businesses that grace the main street. It breathes, natural and open, its walls sprawled with heart, edge, and argument—a modest display of the artist’s work. I’m enthralled, and the second I meet her, I’m ready for the needle.
“Hey, how’s it goin’?” Tracy asks, shaking my hand. “Ryder tells me you guys want to get some work done today? Do you have an idea of what you’re looking for?” She smiles and sets a sketch pad down, motioning for me to have a seat on one of the stools. Her feet are in dark brown boots, her hair is back in a loose bun, and The Smiths play in the background. Her voice matches her laidback persona, and I’m instantly at ease.
“Not really, no. This is sort of a surprise, so…”
She laughs and pulls out some books with various font styles. “That’s Ryder. Always full of surprises.” She eyes him for a second, handing me the books to flip through. “Just take a look at these and if you get an idea of what you might want, we can toss some ideas back and forth and see what we come up with. Sound good?”
“Definitely.” I settle onto the stool and begin flipping pages, sneaking a peek at Ryder. He’s admiring the art on the wall, chatting with Tracy while she begins setting up the equipment. Her voice suddenly turns low and they both glance over their shoulders toward me. I avert my eyes.
I thumb through a few more pages until I settle on a concept I like. There’s no need to pick out a font style, because I won’t be needing one this time. I close the books and stand from the stool.
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