Frayed Rope (The Ugly Roses Book 1)

by Harlow Stone

  I ask as I make my way around the island. His answer is his hands around my waist as he hoists me up onto the counter near his workspace.

  “Nope. Just keep me company.”

  He hasn't kissed me or made any grand touching gestures since I got here so I guess he listened to my little rant about space earlier. I glance around and notice Norma curled up on a dog bed near the bottom of the stairs.

  “Did you have a dog?”

  I ask seeing mine sound asleep and perfectly at home.

  “Nope.”

  He shortly replies making me wonder where he got the dog bed.

  “So you just pulled that old dog bed out of the attic when she started coming around?”

  I say sarcastically. He stops chopping and wipes his hands on a towel. He moves in front of me and I take in his clothing. Dark grey t-shirt, dark jeans, and bare feet. My eyes make it back up to his face before he cages me in with his hands on my thighs.

  “She comes here every morning after her run in the bush and I let her in. She’d lie in five different places on the wood floor before finding a comfortable spot on a rug somewhere and passing out. I bought her a dog bed since she seems to take her morning naps here. Now she doesn’t move around five times. Just goes to the bed and stays there, without tracking sand all through the house. That okay with you beautiful?”

  His thoughtfulness is astounding so I nod my head and tell him so.

  “Thank you, I’m sure she appreciates that since she knows she’s not allowed on the furniture, and her hips ache after her run.” I tell him.

  Dark blacks zone in on my greens before he responds.

  “I noticed that. And you’re welcome.”

  He looks like he wants to kiss me, but instead squeezes my thighs and gets back to work.

  * * *

  “How do you want your steak?”

  Ryder asks from the kickass, built-in grill station on his deck.

  “The only way a person should eat it. Medium-rare.”

  I reply from my spot on the crimson colored patio furniture. Watching his back muscles flex through his shirt every time he moves around.

  Jesus, you know it’s been a while when your studying a man’s back!

  “So if I told you I eat mine well done?”

  He questions me, and I don’t hold back on my honest answer.

  “Then you don't deserve to eat the good cut of meat in front of you, and I’ll be going home so I don't have to watch you murder that dinner by cooking all of the flavor out of it.”

  I see the turn of his lips and know he’s ready to laugh at me.

  “I’m glad we agree on the cooking process of beef, then.”

  Flashing pearly whites at me his smile is so big and I force myself to remember I can’t get used to this.

  “It’s ready, beautiful. If you want to grab the other bottle of wine from in the house we’ll eat on the deck.”

  He carries a platter full of food to the table by the grill and I head for the vino.

  I’m good at that, finding the vino.

  I could probably sniff the stuff out with a blindfold on and still find it faster than someone with the ability of sight.

  Even with the cork still in.

  “To new neighbors.”

  Ryder says as he clinks his glass with mine.

  “To nosy neighbors.”

  I counter.

  A deep chuckle greets me before we both dig into our meal of steak, broccoli, and prawns.

  We only eat for a few moments before Ryder breaks the silence.

  “You’re not hard to read Elle, but you’re definitely not personable. I know you like big dogs, dark colors, and the blues. Ah, and the wine. I’m not asking for anything personal, but maybe there’s something else you can tell me about yourself while we eat. Anything Elle, even if it’s something as mundane as favorite foods or movies you like.”

  I feel like a teenager, thinking about discussing things such as movies and foods I like. I suppose it’s a part of getting to know someone and I understand it’s not enough to give away my identity so I tell him.

  “I love movies, grew up with them mostly because we never had cable where I lived. If you wanted to watch something at six o’clock other than the news you went to the video store and rented something. I can’t tell you exactly which ones are my favorite, however I can tell you that I rented The Karate Kid enough that I could have bought it fifteen times, and I thought Melanie Griffith’s character in ‘Working Girl’ was the shit, including the giant hair. The only thing I would have changed would be a swift kick to the behind following the ‘bony ass’ comment she made towards Sigourney Weaver’s character at the elevator before introducing the Trask company to radio broadcasting.”

  “Ha-ha! Damn, I forgot about that movie. Harrison Ford and big haired women.”

  He shakes his head smiling, obviously remembering the glorious work of film that was ‘Working Girl’.

  “Thanks for sharing that with me beautiful, I was expecting you to say something typical like ‘Dirty Dancing’.

  Oh no he didn’t!

  “Excuse me Mr. Callaghan, but NOBODY, puts baby in the corner!”

  I’m greeted with a deep rumble of laughter once again.

  “You got me babe.” he says on a smile.

  “Your turn, handsome.”

  “They’ve changed many times over the years, but John McClane comes to mind.”

  Ha, he says this as a question, like I won’t know the answer. I raise my glass in toast before I reply.

  “Well then, yippy ki yay - neighbor.”

  I clink my glass with his, and down the rest of my wine.

  “Shit babe, I really didn’t think you’d get that one.”

  “Well handsome, when you grow up without much for television, you spend a lot of time with movies.”

  “Ya, sounds like it. Can’t say I’ve watched a lot in the past ten years or more, I’ve been too busy with work or being overseas. The eighties and nineties I guess you could say were my movie years.”

  “Nothing wrong with that, they were some of the best.”

  I muse, thinking that they honestly truly were, despite how young I was in the eighties; I still got to grow up with those gems in film.

  And the crazy big hair.

  Ryder seems to be feeling okay on the wine, as do I, before his whiskey voice hits me with a line he thinks I won’t know.

  “Live for nothing, or die for something. You’re Call.”

  I know exactly where that came from, and I plan to tell him so.

  “Well said, John Rambo well said.”

  A giant grin greets me, once again as beautiful as the last one. Maybe even more so now that I’ve gotten to know him better.

  “Dinner was delicious Ryder, thank you.”

  I’m absolutely stuffed and happy that he didn’t turn out to be one of those guys who invites you to dinner and thinks his cooking is fantastic, but you end up faking a stomach ache and hit a drive through on the way home.

  “Glad you enjoyed it.”

  I begin gathering up the dishes and he moves to grab my cuff covered wrist.

  “What are you doing beautiful?”

  I’m still not sure how to take that since I’m not one hundred percent comfortable with my purchased face but I tell him.

  “I’m cleaning up. And if you object to me helping with that then I won’t eat with you again. Ever.”

  I say deadpan.

  “Well then, I would love the help.”

  He says standing and collecting the rubbish to take into the house. I grab the wine glasses and the almost empty second bottle and follow him in. I begin to set stuff on the counter when his arms come around me from behind.

  “Thank you for coming Elle, I honestly didn’t think that you would. But I’m really glad that you did.”

  He turns me around in his arms and I have little strength left in me to push him away. He’s been absolutely perfect. The fact that he fed me was j
ust icing on the cake.

  “I’d say I’m the one who should be thanking you for feeding me, but I already did that.”

  I say, looking up into his beautiful black eyes. He’s held back all night and I know it’s been hard for him. Hell it’s hard for me too. I can feel the wetness gathering between my thighs just from being in his presence.

  “I’m going to kiss you now babe and you can push me away if you want to, but I hope you don’t.”

  I can’t hold back much more than he can so I press myself up onto my toes and meet him halfway. We’re both still barefoot and I’m much smaller than he is. His mouth meets mine on a slow, wet kiss that only lasts for a moment before my mouth opens and it turns frantic.

  He pushes one hand into my hair and another around my lower back and he spins me so my back is to the wall. My hands fly up into his hair and I hold on tight as he rocks his hips into mine and I feel his hardness on my stomach. I can’t hold back the moan that escapes my lips before he pulls my legs up around his waist grinding into me harder.

  “Fuck Elle”

  He says between breaths before skimming his hand down my thigh and running it up under my long skirt that has gathered around my thighs. His warm callused hand raises goose bumps on my flesh as it moves around my leg towards my center.

  His hand brushes the side of my panties, as if asking for permission and at this point I can’t deny him, or my own need for him to touch me. His fingers slip past the lace and his fingers skim along lips.

  “Fucking Christ you’re soaked.”

  He growls into my mouth before his fingers dive between my folds. I push harder against him, wanting more friction and he takes the hint and pushes two fingers inside. I gasp at the pressure; it’s been so long since anyone has been there.

  “So fucking tight beautiful.”

  He rasps and my head falls back as he begins attacking my neck with open mouth kisses. I can feel the wetness running down my leg as he abruptly pulls his hand away and my feet fall to the floor. I whine out in protest.

  “What the fuck Ryder!”

  I yell at him, but he’s already on his knees in front of me bunching my skirt up around my waist.

  “Hold your skirt before I rip it off of you.”

  He thrusts the fabric into my hands, and just as quickly he’s yanking my panties down my legs.

  “I have to taste you”

  Is that last thing I hear before my head pounds back against the wall and his tongue is inside me. He throws my left leg up over his shoulder and shoves two fingers back inside me as he feasts and bites on my clit like we didn’t just finish a huge dinner.

  “Fuck Ryder!”

  I moan while riding his face and fingers. My leg is shaking and I know it won’t be much longer before it gives out. My eyes are starting to roll and he replaces his fingers with his tongue.

  “You taste so fucking good Elle”

  He growls into my pussy.

  “Come Elle. Come on my tongue.”

  I couldn't stop it if I tried and I wail as the first orgasm in a year that is not self-induced rages through my body. His strong hands hold onto my hips and his face stays buried in me until every last drop of pleasure is gone.

  He lowers me into his lap and straddles me around his waist. He places both hands on either side of my face before slowly, lovingly attacking my mouth with a brutal kiss. I can taste myself on him and it only spurs me on even more.

  He trails kisses down the side of my face and buries his head in my hair.

  “Thank you beautiful.” He whispers into my locks.

  “Why are you thanking me Ryder?”

  I frown because I don't understand. The man hasn’t gotten his yet, why the hell would he thank me? He pulls back and locks his eyes with mine.

  “I know it wasn't easy to give up what you just gave me Elle, and not only do I appreciate that; I’d like to do it again. So thank you.”

  I appreciate his kind words, but still feel the need to put some light into the seriousness of this encounter.

  “You speak of me as though I’m a virgin, and I’m not. Second of all, I notice the menu tonight lacked dessert, so I figured I’d provide for you.”

  His head falls back on a deep belly laugh that I’m happy to have put on his face.

  “Vixen, you want to provide dessert every night I’ll go back for seconds I promise.”

  He smiles wholeheartedly.

  I am completely serious when I reply.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He lifts us both up off the floor and pulls me in for a hug. It feels warm and wonderful, yet too much to handle at this moment so I slowly pull away.

  “I’ll finish cleaning up. You head on home before I try to bury more than my face between your legs.”

  He says while swatting my ass. Old me would have objected and returned the favor he just gave me. But I can see he’s not expecting it, our moment was perfect as it was.

  “Thank you Ryder”

  I say in the most sincere tone I have. I truly mean it.

  I turn for the door whistling for Norma to come as I go. I send a quick wave over my shoulder noticing him still watching me as I leave.

  Ryder Callaghan.

  He may be the fucking death of me.

  Chapter Thirteen

  KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

  “Who the hell could be here now?”

  I haul my suitcase back towards the front door of my mother’s house. Almost ready to load up and head for the hotel spent four more hours tied up behind the broken train and as much as I don't want to get back in a vehicle; I’m ready to hit the road.

  I flip on the outside light and see two dark figures standing on the other side of the frosted window.

  KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

  “I’M COMING”

  Fucking Christ and I thought my patience was lost? I whip the door open and come face to face with two police officers.

  What the hell?

  “My mom get caught cheating at cards again fella's?”

  Sometimes my humor comes at the worst times but the fact that Sylvia accused my mother of cheating at their weekly poker game last week, I had to get it out.

  “Ms. O’Connor?”

  The older gentleman asks. He’s all business. Despite the slightly wrinkled suit, he has serious eyes that give me nothing and not a hint of a smile touching his wrinkled pudgy face.

  His partner is not hard on the eyes. Maybe pushing forty, he exudes confidence and judging by their size difference I’d say he spends a lot more time at the gym.

  “Yes, MS O’Conner. However I don't live here, Mrs. O’Conner is on her way to the airport hotel at the moment.”

  The officers share a look that makes me uncomfortable, I hate beating around the bush.

  “Jesus, spit it out already. I’m late, seeing as I missed my ride to the airport due to the broken down train on sixty three highway today. You fella's don't seem big on small talk so can we cut the shit so I can hit the road please?”

  I hate to be rude, especially to a police officer but after sitting in a car for so many hours at a standstill, I’m not looking forward to spending two more in the car and now these guys are holding me up.

  “MS O’Connor I’m Detective Braumer, this is Detective Miller”

  The old man says with gruffness to his voice that tells me just how unhappy he is to be here, most likely because he probably missed his dinner. Or maybe it’s my attitude.

  I never said I had patience.

  “What can I do for you?”

  I hope he can sense the exasperation to my tone because fuck I’m in a hurry. Good looking’ Miller speaks up and his voice is as pleasing as I’m sure his body is underneath his clothing.

  “MS O’Connor, do your parents drive a 2013 white Lincoln Navigator?”

  My heart stops beating for a moment while I concentrate on his eyes. I’m good at reading people; I’m good at telling when they are lying. Most times I consider it a gift, bu
t at this moment its nothing but a curse.

  I can feel it.

  His mouth is relaxed, but there's tension around his eyes. He doesn’t like his job at the moment.