by Lori Wilde
Katie sat through the lively family dinner, an automatic smile posted on her face, saying almost nothing, allowing the conversations to wash over her, her mind still dazed from her afternoon with Ryder.
Only her niece Lauren noticed she wasn’t her usual self.
“Auntie?” Lauren asked, leaning over to pat her knee as they sat side-by-side in the huge circular family-style booth at Pasta Pappa’s. “Is sumpthin’ wrong?”
Intuitive kid.
“No, sweetheart, nothing’s wrong.”
“You look sad.”
Katie pushed her smile up higher. “Just tired, I guess. I had a busy day.”
“Me too,” Lauren said, then launched into a tale of everything she’d been up to in kindergarten.
Grateful for the distraction from her thoughts, Katie sat and listened to her niece. She was so lucky. What a lovely life she had. She was with Lauren, Emma, Sam, and Sam’s son from his first marriage, Charlie, who was almost a teenager. Her parents, Lois and Bill Cheek. Her older sister, Jenny; and Jenny’s husband, Dean; and their three children, Haley, Sophie, and Oliver, all under the age of five. Jenny and Dean had had fertility problems. Jenny didn’t have her first child until she was in her late thirties, but once they got their family started, they took off.
The evening wound down early with so many kids to get to bed, and by seven-thirty, Katie was on her way home. But she couldn’t get Ryder out of her mind, and the thought of him working by himself in that miserable house saddened her. Without planning, she turned the car toward the Circle S.
She was two miles out of town headed west when her tire blew.
Crap.
Carefully, she steered the car over on the shoulder of the road and shut off the engine. If she called one of her brothers or her father they’d want to know what she was doing out here when she was supposed to be headed home. She didn’t pay for roadside assistance because she had so many family and friends who would help her in case of an automobile emergency. Now she wished she’d sprung for the service.
She pulled out her phone, trying to figure out whom to call, and saw that her phone had died. Sighing, she took out her charger and plugged it in, drummed her fingers on the dashboard while waiting for it to charge.
Headlights appeared on the horizon in front of her. Maybe it was someone she knew, and they would lend her a hand in changing her tire.
No, not headlights.
Headlight. One headlight.
A motorcycle.
What were the odds it was Ryder? She crossed her fingers. Please, please.
The motorcycle whizzed.
Yep. It was Ryder.
Immediately after passing her he slowed, made a wide U-turn, and came back. Her heart bumped and jumped. Ryder to the rescue. Her hero.
A knight in shining armor stepping from the pages of a romance novel. Appearing out of the darkness with that flashing smile, big masculine muscles, and ability to use a jack, ready to slay tire dragons for her. She’d melted like the tenuous snowflakes on warm asphalt.
Her Sir Galahad.
Okay, maybe not Sir Galahad, since he was supposed to have been pure of heart, body, and mind, but one of the knights of the round table.
His strength, and the sheer force of his presence, dispelled her fears and made her feel safe in a way she had not felt before. As if he would never let anything happen to her.
It was a dangerous thought. He wasn’t her chivalrous knight. Not her man. She had no claim on him. She’d known him as a child. Had one mad night with him a year ago. That’s all it was. All she wanted it to be. Looking at him, feeling his self-assured energy, she knew it would be far too easy to get spun up in the vortex that was Ryder Southerland.
Even now, one small part of her cried, Who cares? He’s a handsome creature. Let him sweep you away, turn you inside out, and use you all up.
No. She’d just found herself. She finally knew what she wanted in life and where she was going. She wouldn’t abandon her hopes and dreams and ambitions for a pretty face and a hot body that would disappear as soon as the wedding was over.
C’mon. One night wouldn’t hurt. In fact, look how much stronger she’d been after that night with him in Los Angeles.
She’d come home resolved to put the past behind her and turn over a new leaf, and she’d done it. She’d started her own business, sold the yurt, bought her house. She’d stopped running to her family every time she got into a bind. She was standing on her own two feet and she loved the independence.
Why would she get involved with another bossy alpha man who would insist on having everything his way?
Good grief, she was getting ahead of herself. The man hadn’t even made a pass at her.
She rolled down her window as he approached the car, as if he were a state trooper and she were a reckless speeder.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.” She wriggled her fingers, slumped sheepishly down in the seat.
“What happened to your dinner date?” He bent down, placed his palms on his knees so they’d be eye-to-eye.
“Over already,” she said. “They had kids to put to bed.”
“Ah, the constraints of parenthood.”
“Those little suckers do put a damper on the nightlife.”
“And you’re out here west of town because . . .” His voice trailed off, but his eyes stayed zeroed in on her.
She wasn’t going to explain herself to him, especially when he was wearing such a smartass, knowing grin. She didn’t have to explain herself to him. “I had a blowout.”
“So I see. Pop the trunk and I’ll change it for you.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“Least I can do after that neck rub.”
Katie glanced away, unable to hold the heat of his gaze, and hit the trunk latch release button. The trunk raised. Ryder straightened, walked to the back of the car. Katie let out a breath held so long her head spun.
She waited a moment, until she regained her composure, and got out to check on him.
“Get back in the car,” he said kindly, but firmly. “It’s dangerous standing on the side of the road.”
“You’re here.”
“I’m changing the tire.”
She folded her arm over her chest, snuggled deeper into her coat. “I’m staying.”
“Then stand out of the way.” He gestured toward the tall grass off the shoulder.
“I could hold the flashlight for you,” she said, picking up the flashlight lying on the ground.
He grunted, acted as if he was about to argue, nodded curtly instead. “Only because there’s no traffic. If cars start coming, you go stand over there by the fence.”
“All right,” she agreed.
He jacked up the car, worked the lug nuts with the tire iron, his hands moving rapidly, muscles bunching as he worked.
“Where were you going?” she asked.
“To find a place to spend the night. That house isn’t fit for man or beast.”
She almost told him he could stay at her house, but managed to bite her tongue in the nick of time. “Jenny and her husband run the Merry Cherub, but they might not have any availability since it’s Dickens on the Square weekend. In fact you might have a hard time finding any accommodations this weekend.”
“Worse comes to worse, I can sleep outside on the ranch in the sleeping bag. The only reason I didn’t want to do that in the first place is because I didn’t want to aggravate the crick in my shoulder. Especially since you massaged it out so well.”
“The KOA might have some cabins for rent. They’re bare bones, so they’re the last accommodations to go during the festival.”
“Thanks for the tip.” He put the spare on, tightened the lug nuts in under a minute.
“That was quick,” she said. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” A smile curled his lips. Was he mocking her?
He stowed the flat tire in the truck, along with the jack and tire tool. He took the flashlight from he
r hand and escorted her back to the car. Opened the door, said, “In.”
“You’re pretty bossy.”
“Comes in handy for a bodyguard.” He closed the door. The window was still down. “Buckle up.”
She complied, even though his bossiness was getting on her nerves.
“First thing tomorrow,” he admonished, “stop and get a new tire. You can’t keep driving around on that donut. Got it?”
“Um, who died and made you the boss of me?” She jutted out a defiant chin even though she had every intention of following his advice.
“You have a thing for organization,” he said. “I have a thing for protection. Get steel-belted radials. The best they carry.” He named the size and brand he thought she should buy.
“Stand down, Southerland. I’m not in the army, and you’re not my commanding officer.”
He looked flummoxed. “I’m just trying to take care of you.”
She threw both hands in the air. “Surprise! I managed to get to be almost twenty-eight years old without your help. I think I can manage getting a tire put on my car.”
“Why are you being so testy? I’m not telling you anything one of your brothers wouldn’t tell you.”
“Exactly. I have four brothers, I don’t need a fifth.” She drove off, leaving him on the side of the road shaking his head.
Nothing about this day had gone the way she’d planned.
Chapter 11
An arousing sex dream, featuring none other than Ryder Southerland, jerked Katie awake at five a.m. the following morning. Her heart thumped hard and she was hot and damp all over.
The image of him was imprinted on the backs of her eyelids—tall, broad shoulders, hard muscles. Masculine nose. Bossy jaw rough with stubble. Dark eyes the color of trouble. Sable hair. Sun-burnished skin.
Making love to her.
Katie gulped, pushed her hair out of her eyes with a palm. She’d been having this sex dream about him at least once a month, but as the wedding drew closer, the dreams increased in frequency.
After each one she was left wrung out, overwhelmed and restless, achy and frustrated.
Fanning herself, she sank back down on the mattress, her mind frolicking back to the sex dream. God, it had felt so real. In the throes of it she’d actually thought it was real. That she was with Ryder in a medieval castle, and her body sang with electrical joy.
“Shake it off.”
If she got this worked up over him in a dream, how was she going to make it through organizing the Circle S and the wedding? Three weeks. The one week she’d worried about had turned into three weeks.
“You’ll handle it,” she told herself, hopped out of bed, wriggled and jiggled her body, expelling the excess sexual energy.
Just a dream. No biggie. Didn’t mean a darn thing. It wasn’t like she didn’t have a dozen different things to keep her busy. Like getting a new tire for her car.
The little bungalow she’d bought all on her own was so much more comfortable than the chilly yurt on a winter morning. It had been a long time since she’d arisen at this hour. Not since Matt. She was by nature a night owl. Because of meadowlark Matt, she’d adjusted, but left to her own devices, she’d go to bed after midnight and get up around eight.
So go back to bed. The tire store wasn’t open yet. Wouldn’t be until seven. But she was wide awake now.
She opened the closet door for her bathrobe where she kept it neatly hung on a hook, no draping on the back of a chair for her. A place for everything, and everything in its place.
Inside the closet, she caught sight of her green bridesmaid dress, reminding her of Gabi and Joe’s wedding. Ryder was only here for the wedding.
Temporary. His appearance in Twilight was temporary and he would be gone again. Back to where he belonged.
“Do not forget that,” she admonished her reflection as she brushed her teeth.
But as she brewed herself a cup of coffee, she remembered the taste of his skin—salty, delicious, mysterious.
He was so damn virile.
Yeah, and that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? If he crooked his little finger and sent her one of his sultry stares, she’d come running.
No. Not anymore. The old Katie might have been a pushover, but the Katie that had come back from California last year was fundamentally changed. Most everyone she knew had noticed, and commented on her transformation.
She was damn proud of herself too, and she wasn’t about to go back to the girl who molded herself into the person that whatever man she was with wanted her to be.
No more tornadic men for her. No getting swept away. Thank you very much.
She spent the early morning cleaning her house, which was already basically clean, but some dust had gathered. She cooked herself a hot breakfast for once, and took a walk around the town square. At seven, she headed to the tire store, and by eight, she was at the Circle S, arriving just ahead of her crew.
Thank God, she and Ryder wouldn’t be alone together today.
They chatted a little. He’d ended up spending the night at the KOA cabin she’d recommended, and Ryder decided he wanted to go see his father at noon. Katie had confidence in her crew, and knew they could handle the job without supervision for a few hours.
By lunch, Katie, Ryder, and her team of three, Alice Wright, Sia Montoya, and Newt Haus, had finished Jax’s bedroom and were three-quarters of the way through the living area. Progress! The cleaning crew home health had hired would come in after they’d finished their job.
They broke for lunch. Alice, Sia, and Newt headed out to eat, Katie and Ryder to the hospital. They took her car because it was more convenient than the motorcycle and in better shape than Jax’s twenty-year-old truck.
“All that damn junk in the house Twyla spent hundreds of thousands on, and Dad had to drive a POS.” Ryder grunted.
“Your father had a hand in it,” Katie said. “He could have put his foot down. He didn’t. Either he didn’t care that he drove an old truck, or bucking her wasn’t worth the fight.”
“I’ll never understand that man,” Ryder muttered from the passenger seat. “Never.”
She glanced over at him. The pain in his voice was raw and real.
He was staring out the window at the rolling fields as they drove into Twilight, the lake dotted with fishing boats, Froggy’s restaurant with a blinking sign out front advertising “Best Fried Catfish in Texas.” A proud boast that wasn’t far off the mark.
“The catfish is damn good,” Ryder said. “But I always liked Froggy’s fried chicken better, and the peppered cream gravy they serve with it.”
“Me too,” she admitted. “Yummy.”
She almost suggested they stop for a meal, but she couldn’t wrap her head around the idea of sitting across from him, chitchatting idly, when he was in the midst of processing some deep emotions.
Acutely aware of the vigorous warmth radiating off his body, and the tight way he held himself, as if he’d come completely unwound if he allowed himself to relax, Katie cleared her throat.
“Is it that hard?” she asked.
“What?”
“Being back home?”
He barked a laugh, a harsh, hollow, humorless sound. “This isn’t my home.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, so she didn’t say anything, just sent him positive mental vibrations and hoped for the best.
“It is a quaint town,” he admitted after a moment, his tone easing.
“I like it,” she said. “When I was a kid, I used to imagine I’d live in a big city someday, lots of hustle and bustle, no one up in your business. But last year, after my stay in LA, I changed my mind. I’m a small-town girl at heart. Twilight is my home. Always will be.”
They drove past the square, where the annual Dickens event was in full swing. Storybook characters come to life, and strolling the courthouse lawn. She saw the historical buildings, constructed in the 1880s, through fresh eyes. Appreciated the Old West flavor. Admired how t
hings rarely changed. That was the appeal. The sameness. It was something you could put your trust in. Knowing that home was always home, no matter where you went, or how far you roamed.
Ryder, however, did not feel the same way.
The sky held a few fluffy white clouds, and the weather was mild. Crisp and clean and cool. It could have been a happy day. But it wasn’t. Ryder was tense. His jaw tight, arms a barrier over his chest, eyes hooded.
“Do you remember the time you pushed me out of the way of the Santa float?” she asked, hoping to lighten his mood.
“How could I forget?” he said, with a genuine laugh that lifted her spirits. “I lost my ice cream because of you.”
“You saved my life.”
“You’re overstating.”
“I’m not. I froze. If you hadn’t shoved me out of the way . . .”
“Someone else would have.”
“Why is it you’re happy to take the blame for your mistakes, but you don’t own the good things you’ve done?”
“Maybe because there’s a lot more bad than good.”
“I don’t believe that for a second, Ryder Southerland.”
She pulled in the parking lot of Twilight General Hospital, and killed the engine. Impulsively, she reached across the seat to touch his hand. “It’s going to be all right.”
He swung his gaze to meet hers. “I wish I had your optimism. I love that about you.”
Love.
Emotion clotted her throat. She knew he didn’t mean love love. It was just a turn of phrase. She pressed her lips together, trying to ignore the leapfrog sensation jumping in her stomach.
“Well, then,” she said brightly. “Let’s do this thing.”
He nodded, ran both palms down the length of his thighs. Opened the car door. Unfurled his long legs. Got out.
She joined him, coming to stand beside him in the parking lot. “I’m here for you.”
“Thanks.” He gave her a half smile. “I’m glad to have a friend.”
Friend.
There was that word again. Did friendship exclude sex?