by M. L. Broome
I get enough excitement at work. In my downtime, I crave solace. Not that there’s any to be found here. Might as well get a drink. “I’ll be back.”
Austin waves his cup at me, but I fade into the crowd without acknowledging his request. The last thing the man needs is more alcohol. Shimmying up to the bar, I squeeze in, offering an apologetic smile to the man next to me. “A whiskey sour, please,” I request from the bartender, noting how the stranger to my right is staring at me.
Not a down-low, inconspicuous stare, either. He’s openly brazen about it.
What is his deal? It’s not like I stepped on his foot or spilled a drink down his shirt. Although, if he keeps leering at me, I might be tempted to do both. Simultaneously.
After another few seconds of his intense gaze, I realize I’m going to have to deal with this ass.
Nothing like starting the new year off with a drunken buffoon.
I pivot in his direction, my hand planted on my hip. “See something you like? Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” I turn back to the bar, wishing like hell the bartender would hurry.
“Glad to see the sauciness is still there, Gigi.”
Whirling around, I lock gazes with the stranger, realizing he isn’t a stranger at all.
I haven’t seen him since he was ten. Not in person, anyway, although it’s impossible to miss the photos of him circling social media. He’s quickly becoming the next big thing in the world of racing, and as my gaze drifts across his wide shoulders, chiseled jaw, and piercing blue eyes, I realize he’s a big deal in many ways.
“Ryder Gray.”
A smile breaks across his face and the dimple that was adorable when he was a kid is pure sex on a stick now. Leaning in, he presses his lips to my cheek, pausing to whisper in my ear. “It’s been a long time.”
Ignoring the sparks lighting up all over my body, I accept the drink from the bartender, taking a greedy sip. Time to regain my balance. “The last time I saw you—”
“I was a kid.” He glides his fingers over his jaw, his eyes roving the length of my body. “I’m not a kid anymore.”
That’s putting it mildly.
“I see that. You look good. You grew up right, Ryder.” I sound like a blooming idiot, complete with a stupid grin plastered on my face as I try to appear nonchalant.
“You look amazing, but you always did.”
“The last time you saw me, I was eighteen. I’ve changed quite a bit.”
His fingers glide through the ends of my hair, barely dusting my shoulders. It’s a recent change and one I’m none too fond of. Figures he’d point it out without saying a word. “Don’t ask. It was a moment of weakness.” I motion to my hair, swallowing some more of my drink. Did the bartender put any alcohol in the damn thing?
“You’re incredibly beautiful, Greer.” There’s something about the way Ryder compliments me. Even as a kid, he used to spout the most romantic and fanciful things.
I laughed them off then. They’re harder to laugh off now.
Clearing my throat, I back up, giving myself a bit of breathing room. What is my issue? I don’t get flustered around men. I always have the upper hand, likely because the last thing I’m looking for is a commitment. Do I want them to put a ring on it?
God, no. Just no.
It’s not that I don’t relish the idea of romance and happily ever after. Who doesn’t? But work is my focus. My only focus, considering the stack of student loans I have from my multiple degrees.
Get a higher education, they said. It’ll be worth it, they said.
I’d like to have a word with whomever they are.
“How are you?” I manage, my back to the bar.
There’s that dimple again, his smile showcasing even white teeth. “Living the high life.”
That’s an understatement. Ryder Gray is riding high on his talent and looks, and there isn’t an end in sight.
“So I’ve heard. Read, really.”
“You read about me?”
I could play coy, but I lack those flirtatious skills. “Of course. You’re a celebrity. I can say I knew you when. I can also say I remember when you fell off your bike, skinned your knee, and cried for about twenty minutes.”
Ryder laughs, running his hand through his dark locks. “Let’s not talk about that day. There are so many more memorable ones.”
“It was cute. You were cute. A very sensitive boy who loved fast cars.”
“I still love fast cars.” He leans in, determined to impede any space I put between us. “Want to go somewhere quieter? I can hardly hear you over all these people.”
Doesn’t that sound wonderful? Unfortunately, I didn’t come to this party stag—technically, at least. “I should check on my date.”
The smile falls from Ryder’s face as he carefully nods. “Is it serious?”
I sputter my drink, shaking my head. “Heavens, no. We aren’t dating. We were, but now it’s… complicated. That sounds like I’m still sleeping with him, which I’m not. Austin and I are friends… in a weird way.” With a sigh, I offer him a smile, desperate to shut myself up. “I’m not built for relationships.”
His brows raise as a look of surprise stamps across his face. “You’re every man’s dream, Greer, saying things like that.”
“So they say,” I reply with a shrug, a sick feeling settling over me at his observation.
Every man’s dream. That’s me, all right. The woman who’s a hell of a good time in the sack, a blast at any football game, and one who can hold a debate on basically anything.
I’m not the woman you open doors for or pick up the tab. I’m the tomboy type in a very feminine wrapping. The friend, sometimes with benefits.
I’ve heard so many men use Ryder’s exact words about my low-maintenance approach to dating, but hearing him utter that statement makes me feel like a bit of a loser.
“I think it’s bullshit, though.”
Now it’s my turn to be surprised, as Ryder’s voice cuts into my internal monologue. “What is?”
“You claim you’re not built for relationships, but you haven’t found the right guy yet. When you do, all those things you swore off will be the only things that matter.”
Damn him for being so perceptive. I want to pop off with a smart retort, but he’s right. All my bravado is just that—armor to protect myself from winding up like my mother, alone and bitter at fifty. Oh, and broke to boot.
But unlike the other men who pass through my life, Ryder knows my family. The good, the bad, and the positively sordid.
In other words, the guy sees right through the excuses I toss around like confetti, and in true Ryder fashion, he isn’t afraid to state the obvious. He was always that way—such an old soul, even at the age of ten. Now, he’s an old soul in a delicious package.
What is wrong with you, Greer? You used to babysit Ryder. Snap out of it.
Granted, he is only eight years younger. An eternity when you’re a teenager but hardly a blip when you’re both adults.
Tearing my gaze from those intense blue eyes, I focus on my drink, as if I might find the answer in its depths. “I don’t want to end up like my mother.”
Ryder shoots me a reassuring smile as he grasps my hand, his fingers warm against my skin. “Greg told me she had a rough time after the divorce.”
“She never saw it coming. My father packed his things and snuck out in the middle of the night. He’d been fooling around with his co-worker for years. Hell, you probably met her at one of their parties. She was sleeping with my father while pretending to be my mother’s friend. I pity my mother for how they treated her, and I never want to end up like her.”
His fingers stroke along my palm, and I’m shocked by how his simple caress calms my nerves. Granted, it’s also firing up other parts of my body, but I’m choosing to ignore that fact.
“Don’t pity her. Your mother can look at herself in the mirror every day. Can’t say the same for your old man. Besides, didn’t his new wife up and
leave him, taking half of everything?” Ryder swigs back his drink, a knowing expression on his handsome face. “That’s karma.”
“True, but his karma affected us all. Look at what happened with Greg. He had to quit racing. He loved racing.”
Those baby blues darken. “He told me he didn’t want to do it anymore. He claimed to be tired of the constant practices and travel.”
“He would tell you that. He was embarrassed. When my dad left, my mother couldn’t afford any of the niceties. Racing was a luxury.” Finishing my drink, I motion for another. Talk about a downer of a conversation. “Enough of our trip down my memory lane. Let’s lighten the mood.” Grabbing my refill, I raise the drink in his direction. “To reconnecting with old friends.”
Our gazes hold as we clink glasses and for the first time in years, I feel like my old self. That teenage girl, ready to take the world by storm, until the storm arrived, and I realized I wasn’t nearly as tough as I once believed. Storms can really knock the sails out of your dreams.
“It’s about damn time. It seemed every time I was on the island, you were off at school. Again. How long did you attend college? Forever?”
I chuckle, although Ryder isn’t far off, and I have the stack of debts to prove it. “Eight years, so a good chunk of my life.”
“You’re a doctor, right?”
“Nurse practitioner.”
“So, you’re like a doctor?”
I giggle, grasping his arm. “Don’t let a doctor hear you say that. They’ll have a conniption.”
“I can handle them.”
“You can run them over in your race car.”
Ryder laughs, and I’m mesmerized at how it lights up his face. Damn, but he grew up fine. I’m fairly certain with his easy grace and effortless good looks, he’s had more than his share of ladies at this point. I’m also certain he’s not the type to leave a woman with anything less than total satisfaction. “I try to play by the rules in my ride, but for you, I’ll make an exception.”
“There you are. I wondered where the hell you went.”
Austin’s snarky voice cuts into our conversation, and I turn, forcing a smile. Lovely. Judging by his red-rimmed eyes and belligerent expression, he’s now deeper in the sauce.
“Hi, Austin. This is my brother’s best friend, Ryder.”
Ryder’s gaze locks with mine, but despite his neutral expression, I notice the muscle jumping in his jaw. He’s none too happy at the interruption. “I was your friend, too, Gigi. Don’t forget all those trips to the record store.”
“We had fun.” Unlike Greg, who believed giving me a hard time was a rite of passage, Ryder always seemed interested in me. I even recall him claiming he had a crush on me all those years ago.
Austin throws out his hand, flashing Ryder a smile. “An old friend of Greer’s? Wow, maybe you understand what makes this woman tick. Damned if I know. I dated her for months and she never opened up. Not emotionally, anyway.” He winks, no doubt a drunken attempt at camaraderie, but his statement feels like a punch in the gut.
Even though I’ve already admitted my lackluster relationship skills to Ryder, I don’t need my ex to bring up my shortcomings. Unless he wants me to bring up his… which I highly doubt. Leaning in, I hiss out a whisper. “Stop being an asshole.”
“I love it when you talk dirty. Come on, let’s go dance.” Austin grips my arm, his clammy fingers the antithesis of inviting.
I have no plans to go anywhere with Austin. He’s in his toxic drunken phase, meaning his personality vacillates like a pendulum. I witnessed that hell enough times during our brief dating period. “I’m staying here.”
Austin’s expression turns sour, his grip firm. “Let’s go, Greer.”
Ryder wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me flush to his chest. Talk about a difference. His embrace is warm and intoxicating. For the first time in forever, I feel safe. “She said no, buddy. Back off.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” There’s the asshole I know and hate. He needs to cease and desist, considering he’s a head shorter than Ryder and barely able to stand of his own volition.
Ryder, for his part, is hardly intimidated. “Someone who’s going to wipe the floor with your ass if you don’t walk away now.”
Volleying his gaze between us, Austin releases a huff. “Screw you both. I’m out of here.”
After watching Austin stomp off, I turn to Ryder, flashing a rueful smile. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
“He’s an asshole, Gigi. No man should ever speak to you that way.”
“That’s why we aren’t dating anymore. One of many reasons.”
“No wonder you don’t believe in relationships. Let’s change it up. Date a real man. One who appreciates how spectacular you are.”
Those azure eyes—beyond intense as they focus on my face, dare me to disagree.
My heart pounds as I hold his gaze, realizing Ryder has an effect on me I’ve never experienced with another man. An out-of-control, unable to tear myself away feeling. With a sigh—and a great deal of effort—I avert my eyes, willing my body to settle.
I’m not entirely certain I’m a fan of this feeling Ryder stirs within me.
He must sense my apprehension as he grasps my elbow, leading me into the melee of people commingling about the Manhattan loft.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere quiet. I haven’t seen you in over a decade, Greer, and I don’t want to share you with a roomful of strangers.”
Ryder must know the owner of the penthouse suite because he sure knows his way around. Pushing open a door, he leads us onto a rooftop patio.
I shiver against the New York chill, smiling as Ryder slips his jacket around my shoulders. “I can’t take your coat. What will you wear?”
Backing me against the brick wall, he cages me in, his muscular forearms resting on either side of my head. “I have you to keep me warm.”
“You’re a natural with the pickup lines. Perfect delivery.”
If my comment bothers him, he doesn’t let on. “Do you prefer Austin’s behavior?”
“Definitely not. The man is a waste of oxygen. When he’s drunk, at least. I owe you, Ryder.”
“I have so many ways for you to make it up to me.” There’s that sexy smirk again, even if I suspect he’s only joking.
Too bad for him. I could do all manner of naughty things to a man like Ryder Gray, particularly since the years between us are now a non-issue.
Ryder leads us to a sheltered alcove, decorated with couches, a minibar, and an outdoor heater.
Perfect.
Settling back against the cushions, I drink in his dark good looks. Ryder was always adorable. One of those kids you knew would grow up to be a heartbreaker.
I wasn’t wrong.
Staring out over the Manhattan skyline, I wonder what it must be like for this level of luxury to be your reality, instead of a cramped studio on Long Island. “This settles it. I need to become insanely wealthy, so I can buy my very own rooftop hangout.”
“Stick with me and I’ll buy you anything you want.”
“You’ll buy me a rooftop?”
“Among other things.”
What a flirt. The man certainly knows how to woo women. Giggling, I clink glasses with him, breathing in the night air. It feels good to laugh. Sometimes, I worry I’ve forgotten how.
“I missed your laugh, Gigi. I missed everything about you.”
His words settle over me like a warm blanket, even if I know he’s spouting a line. “It’s been twelve years. You remember nothing about me.”
Shaking his head, Ryder drapes an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. “Want to bet? You love Elvis and David Bowie. Actually, you like all the music of the 60s and 70s. Pistachio is your favorite flavor of ice cream, even if I can’t for the life of me figure out why. You adore Practical Magic and made me watch it so many times, I still have passages memorized. You claim not to be built for relations
hips, but I know you dream of being in love.”
With every word, I fall deeper under his spell, enthralled by the idea he never forgot me. “You do remember me.”
“You’re unforgettable, Gigi.” He slides his fingers along the column of my throat, letting them drift down to my collarbone. “You still wear the same perfume.”
“I can’t believe you remember that.” With a laugh, I hold out my wrist for him to smell. “Honey and amber.”
But Ryder has other ideas as he leans in, sliding his nose along my neck. “You always smelled so good.”
My heart threatens to beat out of my chest when I feel the soft warmth of his tongue against my skin. His caress is tender. Seductive. And lighting up every cell in my body.
Pulling back, Ryder cups my face, resting his forehead against mine. “I told you I missed you.”
Tracing his lower lip, I hold his gaze, feeling more like a schoolgirl at thirty than I did at eighteen. “They don’t make men like you anymore, Ryder. You must have women clamoring for you.”
Ryder leans back with a sigh, a thin smile playing on his lips. “Promise me something.”
“What?”
“Stop throwing up walls, at least where I’m concerned. I’m not some random guy, and I’m certainly not going to hurt you. So,” he taps the end of my nose, “let’s avoid the topic of me and any other women. That’s the last thing I want to discuss.”
“Ever?”
“Where you’re concerned? Yes.”
He has a point. It’s not a road I care to traverse, either. “Deal. I don’t want to know, anyway. But, I do want to know everything else about you. We have a ton of years to catch up on.”
“Where do I start?” Ryder asks, running a hand through his dark waves. Damn, but it’s longer than mine now.
Propping my legs across his lap, I snuggle closer, warding off the winter chill. It’s also a perfect excuse to bask in Ryder’s warmth, and the man doesn’t seem to mind my advances. “The last time I saw you was twelve years ago. So, age ten until now.”
“Most of my life is not that interesting. I’ll bore you to death.”
“I beg to differ. You were a fixture in my family for years. I’m practically your unofficial big sister.”