by M. L. Broome
But my brother, despite losing his chance at the golden ring, continued to go to the kart track every other week to cheer on his best friend.
Ryder Gray.
It’s been eight years since I saw the man. More specifically, since we saw each other. I see him everywhere, and I mean everywhere. He’s the hottest ticket in racing, with the trophies and trophy girlfriends to prove it. Each beauty is more striking than the last, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s even bedded Ms. Universe.
Not that I’m keeping tabs on the man. That’s something I won’t admit even to myself. I try to gloss over the many magazines or television appearances, assuming an air of indifference toward him.
Lord knows he’s indifferent toward me.
Ryder has the world on a string, but I know his smile, and the one he flashes for the cameras isn’t the one he flashed at me. This smile is practiced and fake as hell.
I hate it.
Hell, I should hate him—plying me with promises but then never bothering to phone after he swore those moments on the rooftop meant something.
Swore I meant something. I believed him, too.
Man must have one hell of a short-term memory problem because it’s been radio silence for eight years. No call, no text, nothing.
At least he isn’t attending Greg’s wedding. Yes, I asked. If Ryder was going to be there, I planned to make myself scarce. I have no desire to watch him make out with whatever beauty queen or supermodel is serving as his latest arm candy.
It’s pathetic, how well I remember his kisses all these years later. I’ve had good kisses since then. Plenty of them, but none ever came close to the fire that man ignited in my soul the moment his lips met mine. It’s as though he flipped a switch in my heart, only to stroll away and leave it to burn itself out.
Hopefully one day, it will.
My phone buzzes and I shake my head, biting back a chuckle. It’s Greg—again. He’s called almost every hour for the last day, ensuring I’m actually getting my ass on a plane.
We give each other crap constantly, but he’s my best friend in the world. When our world crashed around us, we clung to each other for support, since Dad was too busy with his mistress and Mom in no shape to help anyone.
Some things never change.
“You realize every time you call me, you’re interrupting my flow and delaying my packing? What do you want?”
“Are you sitting down, because I have the best news. Seriously.”
Damn, but he sounds giddy. “You won lotto and are moving the wedding to the Caribbean.”
“Why would I do that? Vegas is much cooler.”
Greg would be happy never being near the water again, after a scare with a manta ray when he was nine. Yep, a manta ray. Those large, peaceful creatures scared the hell out of Greg, and it would take a boatload of cash—literally—to get him back in the ocean. “What’s your news?”
“An invited but unexpected guest is making the wedding after all.”
My hand grips the phone as an unfamiliar feeling floods my body. We have a ton of mutual friends, but my money is on the fact one superstar racer is primed to make an appearance. “Don’t even tell me it’s Ryder Gray. If he’s in, I’m out.”
Silence from the other end of the line. Never a good sign.
“Greg, I’m serious. I have no desire to see that man.”
“I get you hate him, even though I don’t know why, but this is my wedding. You have to be there. It’s a law or something.”
I huff out a breath, resigned to my fate. He’s right, and I know he’s right. I’d be a shit and a half if I missed Greg’s wedding because of a guest who ghosted me eight years ago. “I’m sorry. I’m being stupid.” Tapping my hand along the table, I force out the next question. “It is Ryder that’s coming, isn’t it?”
“Yes. He phoned yesterday and told me he had a change of plans. He’s also standing up with me—”
Groaning into the receiver, I hang my head. Wonderful. Now I not only have to see Ryder, but I have to interact with him.
“What is your deal with him, anyway? You act like he broke your heart or something. Ryder has always had a thing for you, Gigi.”
“Not anymore,” I mutter. “That was years ago.”
And only for a few brief, wonderful hours, at that.
“He sounded pretty damn excited when I told him you were single. You should take advantage of that fact.” Greg chuckles. “I can’t believe I just intimated my sister needs to get laid.”
I scoff at Greg’s statement. Ryder Gray is glad I’m single? That means one thing—he’s eager to finish the conquest he started all those years ago. Probably thinks I’m an easy lay, and he won’t have to wine and dine me like his Hollywood hotties.
But my brother isn’t totally off-base. I could use a good roll in the hay. It’s been… longer than I care to recall.
Suddenly, inspiration strikes, and a plan formulates. I’m going to flirt and coo my way right into a handsome hunk’s arms while staying in Sin City, earning a well-deserved romp while ensuring Ryder Gray knows he will never have a chance with me.
Is it petty? Absolutely, but the millionaire superstar has it coming.
In spades.
“On second thought, this could be fun.” I stroll over to my closet, pulling open the door. Time to rethink my wardrobe choices.
“Uh-oh. One eighty change in disposition. Disaster is imminent. Should I worry?”
“Not at all, sweet brother. I’ll see you tonight.”
My bravado is only paper-thin, but at least it’s making an appearance. I strut through the Vegas hotel lobby like I own the place, the clacking of my heels reverberating throughout the marble entrance.
Usually, I aim for comfort when I fly, dressing in yoga pants and sneakers. But this is not one of those times. Today, I’m wearing a black lace dress that hugs my curves in all the right places, complete with a pair of strappy heels that make my legs look a mile long.
I’m a short woman, so heels are a bit of a necessity if I don’t want to disappear into the crowd. But I rarely show off my body in so obvious a manner, even though it’s tighter now at thirty-eight than it was at twenty.
Hey, there has to be an upside to be dumped for a younger woman. When Richard told me he had fallen in love with his secretary, I laughed. Seriously. I threw my head back and laughed at the irony. Just like my mother, I found a man who would throw away years—and I mean years—of dedication in pursuit of a younger lay.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. But unlike my mother, whose nerves and self-confidence never recovered from my father’s deceit, I refused to hide away.
Fuck that noise.
Instead, I hit the gym, earning a Pilates certification and discovering muscles they don’t teach you about in anatomy class. My other focus? Work, and paying off the mountain of debt that schmuck ex-boyfriend left me with. At the rate I’m going, I’ll be debt-free by the twenty-second century.
But those bills and that pathetic excuse for a man are not my focus for this weekend. This weekend is about turning heads. Mostly turning Ryder’s head.
Men always want what they can’t have. I let Ryder near my body and heart once. This time, I’m a no-fly zone—at least where Ryder is concerned.
My plane was delayed, so it’s a bonus all I need is a pat of powder and a spritz of perfume to be ready for the rehearsal dinner. By the time I finally landed in the desert, Greg was in full-blown panic mode, certain I was making good on my threat to blow off his wedding.
He’s worse than a woman with the way he worries, but I quickly assuaged his fears and let him know I’d be there for the limo pickup at seven. Greg informed me the rest of the bridal party had already arrived and their mission was clear—imbibe copious amounts of alcohol and commit sins that won’t be spoken about outside the city limits.
It is Vegas, after all.
Strolling out the front entrance, I hear my brother’s loud whoop, my head swinging toward the
group. There are about eight in total, and judging by the volume, they’ve been in their cups for a while.
My breath catches when my gaze lands on Ryder. He looks so different from the cocky but sweet kid I fooled around with once. The long hair is gone, replaced by a crew cut and neatly trimmed beard. He’s bigger too, the muscles evident under his button-down shirt and fitted pants.
Holy hell, but he’s all man now.
Seems the resident celebrity has already been claimed. One of Jillian’s friends, a redhead named Michelle, is eyeing Ryder like he’s the finest piece of ass she’s ever seen.
A whole slew of women will agree with her sentiment. Lucky for me, I’m no longer one of them, and I’ll keep telling myself that until I believe it.
Ryder, for his part, is eating up her affections, that ever-present and fully fake smile on display as Michelle bats her eyes and mashes her tits against him.
Subtle, darling.
With a final breath to center me, I toss my long hair over one shoulder and stride toward the group. Let the games begin. “Ryder Gray. Breaking hearts as always, I see.”
Ryder’s head flies up at the sound of my voice, a grin breaking across his features.
But it’s not the practiced smile that decorates magazine covers. It’s the goofy, crooked grin I remember from eight years ago. Ryder’s real smile.
Suddenly, I’m not feeling as confident in my quest.
Focus, Greer. Don’t let this man get the better of you again.
He meets me halfway across the parking area, wrapping his hand around my nape and pulling me to him. Without permission, he presses his mouth to mine, and my hands fly up to his chest as my heart threatens to beat out of my own.
Pulling back, those baby blues twinkle at me. “Greer Hammond. Can I just say how jealous I am of your dress tonight? It gets to touch every one of your luscious curves.”
I bristle at his well-practiced delivery. Typical playboy, figuring I’m going to melt at the feet of racing royalty.
Nice try, Ryder. I remember when you used to wet the bed.
With a chuckle that’s as fake as his smirk, I reply, “I figured you’d be jealous of my bra and g-string since they have a front-row seat to the goods.”
His eyes widen, momentarily thrown by my comeback. But he recovers quickly. “Those I plan to dispose of directly. Can’t have them crowding in on what’s mine.”
What a pompous ass. What did I ever see in him? “I’ll let you duke it out with them. Until then, your date for the evening is waiting.”
Ryder’s face scrunches in confusion. “Who?”
“Michelle.”
“Who?”
His ego is enormous, and my temper flares to match it. Leaning in, I pull his head down to mine, my voice a fierce whisper. “Ryder Gray, have you forgotten her already? I know you’re a callous cad, but try to remember the name of the woman you plan on screwing tonight. Or is that too much to ask from someone of your status?”
A final hair flip and I step away from him, saddened that the lovable guy I knew, and damn near fell head over heels for that New Year’s Eve, is no more. He’s been replaced by a man who believes himself better than others, likely because most people treat him as if he is.
Ryder grabs my arm, pulling me back to him, and for the first time, his facade cracks. “If anyone has a right to be angry, it’s me, Greer. Thanks for ghosting me, by the way.”
What the hell? He is not blaming me for eight years ago. “That’s rich. I love your version of events.”
“What would you call it? I went to deal with… whatever her name was, came back, and you were gone.”
“You have difficulty remembering your women’s names, don’t you? Her name is Jane.” I’m never this caustic, but fury from the past eight years is blasting its way to the surface. All aimed at one man. “Austin puked everywhere and Patrick kicked him out. I had to take him home. I gave Patrick my number and asked him to give it to you. Not that you ever used it.”
Ryder crosses his arms over his chest, gaze focused on me. “Patrick didn’t give me a damn thing. Do you honestly think I wouldn’t have called you if I had your number?”
“Do you honestly think I would have left without leaving my number?”
Now we’re in a standoff, my dark eyes flashing in time with his blue ones, as we attempt to deduce what happened that night so many years ago.
Ryder breaks first, running a hand over his scalp. “Greg says you’re single.”
“He didn’t mention your marital status, although the tabloids love discussing your escapades. A new woman every week. Aren’t you ambitious?”
I mean the barbs to bring him down a notch, but instead, a smile quirks his lips, despite his best attempt to appear angry. “You read the tabloids about me?”
A flush crawls up my cheeks, and I’m thankful for the dim lighting. “No, I just… no.”
Wow. That was one hell of a comeback, Greer.
That endearing grin reappears as his thumb traces over my lower lip, and I’m torn between biting it or twirling my tongue along the digit. I have a feeling he’d play along with either choice. “Greer Hammond is keeping tabs on me.”
That does it. Bite it is.
“Ouch.” He pulls his hand away, chuckling. “Still feisty as ever.”
“Some things never change.”
Grasping me around the waist, he pulls me close. “You’re right. Some things never do. In fact, some things get more potent with time.”
I refuse to read into his statement, or the look flashing in his eyes which I know matches my own. The electricity between us is enough to put Vegas to shame, and I wonder how I’ve lived this many years without his light.
No, I can’t go there again. He’s not the same man. Not anymore.
Breaking my gaze away, I focus on his chest, the flash of silver just visible through the open button. I reach up, fingering the medallion around his neck. “You still have it.”
“It was given to me by a very special lady, who I missed much more than I’m willing to admit. It was all I had left of her, so I never took it off.”
With those words, I see the same sweet guy I always knew, and I want to sob with relief. He’s still there, hiding behind a practiced mask. A mask he uses to protect himself, particularly his heart.
Just like me.
So much for focus. If I’m not careful, I’ll be in love with the infamous racer before the weekend it out. A repeat of eight years ago, when my heart was his for the taking.
When he promised to show me the world, starting with Paris. Funny thing, I would have gone with him and likely never left his side.
But falling for Ryder Gray now would be the dumbest idea I’ve ever had. He’s a star, despite his modest roots. Besides, I spent eight years thinking about him. Missing him.
Time to put some room—emotional and otherwise—between us.
“You’re very charming, but I won’t fall for you again, Ryder.”
His grin widens as his grip on my body tightens.
“I take it you approve of my decision?”
“That’s not why I’m smiling. You said you won’t fall for me again, implying you fell once before.” Lifting my hand, he presses a kiss to my palm. “Which means, it’s only a matter of time.”
“Is that a fact?” I try to sound aggravated, but my words are breathy as his lips dust kisses across my skin.
“It’s a promise, Greer Hammond. Mark my words.”
“If you two are quite through flirting, can we get a move on? I’m parched.” My brother shoots me a grin, a knowing look on his face.
Blowing Greg a kiss and wink, I walk toward the stretch limo, acutely aware of how Ryder has fallen into step with me—quite a feat, considering his legs are twice as long as mine.
I’m not sure what to make of the man. He’s gorgeous, celebrated and coveted by almost every straight woman in the world.
But deep down, he’s still Ryder.
Or is he?
<
br /> “Hey, stop with all the heavy thoughts,” Ryder says, breaking into my internal monologue. “We’re going to have an amazing time this weekend.”
My eyes dart upward, locking with his. Just like times past, he knows my innermost thoughts without me saying a word.
That knowledge, coupled with the way the man is undressing me with his eyes, is a bit unnerving.
In the most delicious fashion.
My phone buzzes and I groan when I glance at the caller ID. Waving Ryder to the limo, I pace the walkway, explaining to my patient for the hundredth time that just because her blood pressure is under control doesn’t mean she can stop taking her ACE inhibitor. After arguing my scientific logic for a minute, she relents, agreeing to take her medicine.
No doubt I’ll have another call in the morning, debating the same topic. Never a dull moment in healthcare.
As the last one into the limo, I have the added bonus of climbing over everyone, since the only remaining seat is way in the front. Love the logic there.
Michelle has reclaimed the man of the hour, her entire body pressed against Ryder.
Like I said, subtle.
As I crouch to make my way to the available seat, I’m acutely aware of the up-close view I’m giving Ryder of my ass, made more pronounced by the length—of lack thereof—of my skirt.
I jump when a hand wraps around my hip. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Ryder’s digits locked onto me, those azure eyes daring me to complain. “I thought you were going to fall,” is his only explanation.
“How chivalrous of you.” Flashing him a smile, I plop into my seat, hiking my skirt up an extra inch as I cross my legs, fully aware of his laser stare on my stems.
The limo hasn’t even left the parking lot before everyone has a glass in hand, toasting Greg and Jillian.
I remember how nervous Greg was when I first met Jillian. She was different from all the other women, he claimed. She was the one. He just knew it. He was right, and I couldn’t ask for a nicer sister-in-law. Jillian is bubbly, cute, and fun as hell.
Plus, she loves Greg something fierce. That love was tested early in their relationship when my brother had a cancer scare. Jillian stood by his side, never wavering in her dedication. Such a difference from when my mother found a lump in her breast, right after I left for college. My father, despite the years between them, couldn’t be bothered to support her during such a trying time. He had affairs to handle and secretaries to screw.