I instinctively reached to pull my skirt lower with one hand, and hit glass. It was up to the clothing malfunction gods at this point whether or not this day could get any worse.
“You want to keep burning a hole through my head or do you want me to help you?”
“Fine. But if you touch anywhere besides clothed areas I’m going to put my stiletto through your skull, capisce?” I managed to keep my voice authoritative and firm, nothing like the shakiness flowing through my body. That was how being around Ryder had made me feel from the first time we met—like I’d just come off an intense adrenaline high.
He put his hands up. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I sunk back down and rested my arms on the sill, waiting to be sprung from the window. I prided myself on being self-sufficient, never needing help from others, especially dirt-bag hookups. And yet here I was.
He moved closer until the soft fabric of his faded shirt brushed against my arm, and I bit back a gasp. His rich cologne mingled with his detergent, and my eyes rolled back in my head at the heavenly scent. Most men that I’d dated smelled good in that dude-musk sort of way. Ryder took it to a completely different level, one that induced visceral reactions such as drool and the sudden need to find something to do with my hands, anything so I didn’t fist his shirt.
Within seconds, he had the window open, and a firm hand wrapped around my hips. A wave of goose bumps bloomed across my skin as he pulled me down, depositing me on the gravel path, supporting me with his arm. I wobbled unsteadily in my heels and looked up at my ex-hookup, and the breath rushed from my chest like I’d actually taken a physical blow. Ryder stood there, henley pulled tight across his muscled chest. The color matched his ocean-blue eyes. He’d traded his clean-shaven face of a few months ago for a neatly trimmed beard that ran along his chiseled jaw. Which, let’s be honest here, the whole light-eyes dark-hair thing did it for me. A lot. I might dislike the guy, but holy hell, he’d gotten even hotter since I’d last seen him. He looked over me, assessing, and then quickly bent down and swatted my leg.
“Ow! What was that for?” I retreated a step, stumbling as I rubbed at the spot he’d hit. When my fingers hit a squishy mound, it took every ounce of self-control not to dry heave. “You killed Chewbacca.”
His brows creased, and some of the tension eased as he visibly hid a laugh. “You named him after a Star Wars character?”
I shrugged. “It seemed appropriate.”
I stood there for a few moments, unsure of what to do. Grab my keys from the lodge, book it out of here, and apologize profusely to Jason, or snap on the big-girl panties and continue taking measurements? Decisions, decisions.
I took another step back and bumped into the wall. I was just full of smooth moves today. “Well, thanks for that.”
His big, calloused hand brushed a stray lock of hair out of my face, sending heat radiating between my legs. His lips pulled into a smile, one that deposited my undergarments straight into the panty incinerator.
Nope, panties, no time for vaporizing. You hate him, remember?
My body was a traitorous wench.
I crossed my arms, trying to hold my ground. “What are you doing here, anyway, Ryder?” When Jason said someone was coming to Divinity, I didn’t think he’d meant his brother.
It was his turn to fold his arms over his chest. “Jason wanted me to check on a few things. I wasn’t expecting to have company.”
What he really meant to say: I really wasn’t expecting to see you.
“Same.” I stared down at my stiletto heel, digging it into the gravel. Birds chirped, wind rustled through the trees, and we continued to stand there in silence.
So. Freaking. Awkward. This could end any time now.
He cleared his throat and thumbed at the braided leather bracelet on his wrist. “Well, guess it’s time to go our separate ways.” He reached for a set of crutches propped against the building. And just like that, his smile faded, dismissing the incident, like he often ran into ex-hookups and saved them from dangling out of windows. Who knew—maybe he did.
I glanced at his leg, taking in the black boot encasing his leg.
Mr. Pro Snowboarder on crutches?
If I weren’t fighting the intense urge to impale him with my stiletto, I’d maybe consider doing the polite thing and strike up conversation. Ask how he hurt himself. But let’s be real, that wasn’t going to happen without the aid of a lot of alcohol, or a lobotomy. “Well, thanks for that.” I hitched my thumb toward the window. “I think you’ve achieved superhero status for the day.”
He grinned. “Good to know there are two in the vicinity.”
“Excuse me?”
He lifted a brow. “C’mon, I’d have thought the Flash would be better at getting out of tight situations. I’m a little disappointed.”
What the…? Why would he call me that?
I winced and groaned as realization hit. My red-zone laundry situation meant I’d snagged the last pair of underwear in my drawer—the Flash undies that I’d used under my costume junior year of college. It even had a bright yellow lightning bolt across the ass.
Lord hath very little mercy for me today.
“Ass.” I should have come up with a better comeback than that. I should have slapped that smug grin off his face. I should have done something. But all I could do was think about his bare chest hovering above me, his eyes blazing into mine as I lost myself in his touch back in November.
“Is that a reference to me or your underwear?”
Oh! The nerve of this guy.
By the time any semblance of a response surfaced in my mind, he’d already made his way up the path toward the front of the building. “It was a pleasure, Flash,” he called, waving one crutch, not bothering to look back.
The sun had moved and was now hidden by the tree line, forming shadows over Ryder’s retreating figure. A gigantic rain cloud glided across the sky with alarming speed, heading straight for the resort. Nothing on the weather forecast called for rain, but then again, when did I ever fully trust the weather app?
After I’d finished taking pictures and measurements of the main lodge area, Ryder had disappeared somewhere deep in the resort, and a storm had rolled in on the mountain. When I peered out the coke-bottle glass windows, snow came down in sheets, creating white-out conditions. There was no way I was leaving the resort tonight.
And Ryder’s car was still in the parking lot.
Chapter Two
Ryder
The first time I met Zoey Reynolds, she ripped my brother a new asshole. Over furniture selection. It wasn’t obvious to the average observer—in fact, my brother didn’t even seem to notice. He’d suggest something and before he could take two bites of his chicken parm, he’d switched his opinion to agree with her.
There were two things that remained constant in my life:
1. The world revolved around the sun.
2. Jason Covington never compromised.
He didn’t show mercy. Hell, he still held a grudge over the fact that I melted his favorite GI Joe in a campfire twenty years ago. But he gave in to everything this blond woman that barely came up to his shoulders said.
It was her eyes, I’d decided, four months back. Everything about her was fascinating. She talked a good game, but I’d decided right then and there Zoey Reynolds didn’t even need to open her mouth to bring someone to their knees. One glance would do it.
In fact, just five minutes ago, I’d been on the receiving end of one of her stare downs, a look that promised I’d be spoon-fed my own balls. Did I deserve the silent threat that had my lower region ducking for cover? That’d be a resounding yes.
In most aspects, I’d classify myself as a good guy. I opened doors for old ladies, gave most of my sponsorship money to charity, and paid my taxes.
Relationships were a different story. I loved women. I respected the hell out of them. But, I still had a while until I was ready for someone else’s toothbrush in my bathroom. My schedule w
as the same every day—get up, train, train some more, eat, pass out, repeat. The most committed relationship I’d ever been in was with my manager Andy, and he didn’t require a lot of maintenance besides the occasional commission check.
A few months back, Zoey and I hung out a couple of times. I even spent the night once after a few too many drinks. We clicked. She was cool, someone who I could actually joke around with. But after we slept together, she got this look in her eye, and I’d realized I made a mistake. The sex itself was incredible—that part I didn’t regret. But Zoey was that kind of girl. White picket fence, home-baked apple pie, two-point-five kids…all that shit.
So was I surprised to find the one girl who’d haunted my thoughts for the past four months flashing her underwear to the walls of my brother’s new resort? Let’s just say I had a better chance of nailing a Double Mctwist 1260 on my broken leg than running into her again. And I just played it off like nothing had happened between us, because what was I supposed to do? My default was going for the quick laugh.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Jason’s number. It went straight to voicemail. I waited for the automated message to end and then spoke. “Hey, J. A storm’s about to hit, and I’m stuck up at the resort. I’ll keep you posted once I get back into town.” I hung up, tossed my phone in my bag, and moved as fast as I could with crutches.
My clothes stuck to me in odd spots as I hobbled back into the building. Snow dumped onto the ground, thick and heavy, and I would have decided to screw grabbing my overnight bag if it weren’t for the fact that I’d packed a couple of sandwiches and bottles of water.
Zoey stood in the middle of the great room, her teeth grazing her bottom lip as she studied the archway and the large, charred brick fireplace. Her blond waves curved down to the middle of her back, giving way to a dark smudge running the width of the white shirt tucked primly into her black skirt. It reminded me of something a librarian would wear, if librarians looked like Instagram models.
I shook the snow from my hair and brushed the remaining powder off my shoulders, leaving a trail of wet spots on the orange carpet.
“It’s really coming down,” I said, breaking the silence. If we were going to be stuck here all night, it was better to patch things over than to just ignore each other.
She looked up from her notebook, did a full-body sweep of my disheveled state, and frowned. “Did you come to that conclusion all by yourself?”
“I had to carry the one and do an impressive amount of long division in my head, but I finally figured it out,” I shot back.
She broke into a slow clap that echoed in the cavernous room. “And here I was thinking you only thought with your other head.” Her lips twitched in the corners.
It was hard to tell which I’d get frostbite from first—the weather outside, or Zoey’s attitude. Even though it was clear her main goal tonight was to eviscerate me, I still found it sexy as hell.
“I didn’t hear any complaints from you when I used that one.” I raised my brow, a silent challenge.
Zoey was a box of TNT. Brilliant, intense, dangerous as hell. I’d just lit the fuse and would soon be suffering the repercussions.
Her skin flushed, and I should have been ashamed at how much I liked riling her up, especially after how I’d left things.
Before she could say anything else, I quickly added, “The master suite is down the hall and to the right. It’s the most spacious, and if I’m correct, it has body wash from this century stocked in the bathroom.”
She shivered, and if I didn’t think she’d follow through with her threat to put a stiletto through my skull, I’d wrap her in my sweatshirt. “Good to know,” she said.
I’d never had an issue with one-night stands before, due to the fact I never ran into them after parting ways. Everyone got what they wanted out of the deal—a good time, no harm no foul. But seeing her, the hurt in her eyes, made me feel like I’d hit a new level of scum.
“I brought an extra pair of sweats if you want something warmer to wear,” I offered.
She shook her head. “I’m fine, thanks.” The goose bumps pebbling her skin told a different story. The message was received loud and clear: she’d rather freeze her ass off than take anything of mine. I had a lot of work to do tonight if I wanted to wake up tomorrow morning.
“Okay…” The silence stretched between us and I decided not to press further, shoving down the irritation of knowing she was suffering to spite me. “I’ll be down the hall if you need me.”
“Right.” She went back to her work, her hazel eyes ten seconds away from lighting her clipboard on fire.
I planned to grab the room next to hers, purely out of convenience. In case she needed anything. That was the story I was sticking to. After finding the breaker box and the thermostat to the place, I made my way to my room. Zoey had left the main area. With the shitty lighting, I assumed she gave up for the night and disappeared to the master suite.
I opened the door and grimaced. Words such as décor and color palette rarely crossed my mind, but even my design-inept self knew that the guest room was a goddamn abomination. With mustard-yellow sheets, faded wallpaper, and a bald eagle painting hanging crooked on the wall, it would be better to steamroll the place instead of wasting time and money on a remodel. Tear down the building, add a few new ski lifts, and it’d be good to go.
Dropping my bag onto the bed, I stripped off my soaked clothes and made my way to the shower. Between the snow and Zoey’s arctic stares, the ancient heating system wasn’t doing much to warm this place up.
I limped across the bathroom tile, and my hand stopped on the faucet when I heard a voice resonating through the walls. Every word echoed in the shower. From what I could tell, it was an audiobook. Something about a duke, or maybe an earl, although I couldn’t be sure, since kings and queens were the extent of my knowledge on royal lineage. The water in the next room turned on, and the spray tapping against the porcelain floor muffled the voice on the audio.
Once I started the shower, I grabbed Saran Wrap out of my bag and wound it around my cast. Only a few more weeks of this hell and then everything would return to normal. Back to my team, my board, my life.
The narrator’s thick British accent carried the story through the wall as I stepped in the shower. And then I heard it. A groan and a thump. Followed by a “Why, God? What did I ever do to you?” Along with a few creatively crafted expletives. There was a good chance my name was thrown in there as well.
I fisted my hair and sighed. Even if we were both in agreement about wanting to be anywhere but here, it didn’t feel right going the rest of the night pretending she wasn’t there. I also might have had a death wish, because I couldn’t seem to keep my damn mouth shut around her.
“The accent’s probably fake,” I said as I worked a bar of soap over my chest.
The audio stopped. “I didn’t know you took the time to get a linguistics degree in all that spare time of yours?”
“A self-educated expert, but I’m sure Harvard would mail me a degree if you require evidence.”
“You should get right on that. Maybe add on a minor in manners while you’re at it, because then you’d know it’s not polite to eavesdrop.”
Even with a wall between us, her glare pierced through my chest. “I can’t help it if the walls are thin.”
“Funny you chose that room when there are ten others in the vicinity that don’t share a wall with mine.”
“I figured it’d be convenient in case Chewbacca had family that will want to avenge his death.”
“If I remember correctly, it was his blood on your hands. I’ll make sure to send the eight-legged mafia your direction.”
“So harsh,” I said, smiling.
“Well, you’re coming between me and my audiobook time.”
“Let me sum it up for you: the Earl of Yorkshire is trying to get in the handmaiden’s pants.”
The book did actually sound kind of interesting, not that I would ever admit tha
t in a million years.
She scoffed. “His name is Duke Renau. And he is trying to earn the love of Lady Eddington.” She paused and then mumbled, “Some men understand basic human decency,” and I had a feeling those words weren’t meant for my ears.
I scrubbed my hands over my face. I’d been an idiot for thinking I could have a civil conversation with her after how I’d acted. “I’m sorry about November and not saying good-bye.”
She paused for a long time, and I resigned myself to the fact that she’d shut me out for the rest of the night.
“I’m gonna get back to my story now,” she finally said quietly.
“Duke is better company than me?”
A deep, throaty laugh came through the wall. I loved that damn sound, even if it was currently at my expense. But it was better than silence. “Wait, you want me to answer that honestly? I mean, if we’re ranking on a one to ten scale, you’re at least a solid four. Admirable effort.”
“If I had a heart, I might actually be offended.” I was a little bit, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Careful, Ryder. Your ooey-gooey center is showing.” And with that, she restarted her audiobook.
I dipped my head under the warm spray and laughed. Zoey Reynolds didn’t hold any punches.
…
Zoey
Hour five of the white-out conditions.
Status: No food and only a few swigs of water left in my bottle.
Boredom level: the DMV now qualified as a magical oasis.
According to my weather app, I had another few hours until the storm system moved out of the mountains. Not that I trusted the forecast to begin with. Even worse, I was at 7 percent battery, and I’d forgotten my charger. I silently shook my fist at the weather gods. Seriously, a night without my ebooks? With him next door? Let the torture commence. I could practically feel his arrogance radiating through the walls. I might have been a little harsh with what I’d said, but I wasn’t about to play it off like we were BFFs just because he wanted to clear his conscience.
I shot a quick text to Lainey explaining the situation and shut off my phone.
The Rule Maker (Rule Breakers) Page 2