Wild Ride

by Tiffinie Helmer

  Ryder slowly made his way up the final steps to the wide-planked porch, towering over her.

  Man, how she loved these Wilde men. Tough, rough, and sexy as hell.

  Awkwardly, he leaned down and lightly kissed her cheek.

  Her cheek?

  Oh, no, she wasn’t letting him get away with that.

  “I think we can do better than that.” This should give both brothers something to talk about. She reached up and captured his face between her palms, enjoying the shock on his face. Stretching up on her toes, she planted her lips against his.

  There, take that, Ryder Wilde.

  He stood still as a black spruce in subzero temperatures, but she didn’t let that detour her. Nipping at his lower lip, she coaxed his lips to soften. He suddenly shuddered and leaped into the kiss with such ardor, she had a moment of misgiving.

  Then she couldn’t think at all.

  He dropped the picnic basket and the beer he carried, and wrapped both arms tight around her, lifting her off her feet, and walking her backward to the log wall of the house.

  From her first impression, he’d looked like he was starving. The kiss proved she’d been right on target. With a torturous groan, his tongue breached past her lips and mated with hers.

  Oh, God, oh, God. She hadn’t imagined this out of control passion that arched between them the first time they’d kissed so long ago. She’d judged every man she kissed against Ryder since that fateful night, and they all had failed miserably. No one had her jumping her fences, busting through her barriers, like Ryder. She gave no thought to why she was doing this, that she shouldn’t be allowing him to cup her breasts, or his knee pressing firm between her thighs, eliciting a wave of want low in her belly.

  None of it.

  All she could do was feel. And it wasn’t enough. She wanted more.

  Much, much more.

  Suddenly, Ryder tore his mouth from hers, breathing hard. Looking at her with glazed eyes that quickly cleared to hard granite, he released her breasts and slapped his hands on the wall on each side of her head as though punishing himself for touching her to begin with.

  “Sorry,” he croaked out.

  “Why?” she asked in a whisper, licking the taste of him off her lips, not wanting to lose the connection.

  He groaned watching the small movement. “I shouldn’t have...we shouldn’t. We’re supposed to have a picnic dinner, you giving me a tour of the place, not…”

  “Not going at each other like some oversexed teenagers?” she asked with a cock of her eyebrow, her heart still pounding loud enough in her chest that she was surprised he didn’t hear it and call the EMTs.

  “Yeah…” He grimaced. “Something like that. I shouldn’t have gone at you like that, shouldn’t have touched you.”

  She thought back to the last time he’d kissed her, touched her. “It’s not like you haven’t done it before. What’s the real problem?” She wondered—hoped—he’d come clean then, but instead, he stepped back, and seemed to give himself a mental shake.

  “Yeah, well. You just got back home, we haven’t been seeing each other…that much for me to—”

  “Don’t you want me?”

  “God, yes,” he said as though the words were torn from him. “No, forget that. We should be taking it slow—real slow—getting to know each again.”

  “We kind of did that on our last date. I swear, we must have talked most of the night. They had to toss us out of the Pump House.”

  Something shuttered over his expression, and he turned, rubbing the back of his neck. He stopped when he noticed the beer and the basket he’d dropped. He swore and headed over to the beer, picking up the six-pack and looking it over. “Christ, how did I not bust all the bottles?” He said this more to himself than to her. Grabbing a beer, he set the six-pack down on the small table placed between two Adirondack chairs. He twisted off the top and guzzled half the beer down before facing her again. Then something else must have registered, and he grabbed another one and offered it to her. “Dawson wanted a woman’s opinion.”

  She took the beer, confused. “Dawson?”

  “You know, Avery Dawson, owner of the Pump House. He’s trying to develop more flavors for women.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  Ryder shrugged. “Probably has something to do with my sister Cat not caring for beer. You heard they were engaged? Anyway, he gave me this for you to try, wanting your opinion.” His eyes widened. “You do drink beer?”

  She chuckled over his nervous rambling. The man was out of his element. She bet that didn’t happen much with him or any of the Wilde men for that matter. She liked that she made him nervous, and she doubted it had to do with him pretending to be Dare. It was she who made him edgy.

  “Yes, I do drink beer. Remember, I out drank you the other night.” She took the offered bottle, enjoying the flush traveling up his cheeks since he was caught not recalling their date a week ago. But then Dare must not have included details, like what they did, what they talked about, and so forth. She wondered what else she could trip Ryder up with to see if he would come clean. She glanced down at the brown bottle in her hand. “What is this?”

  “Wild raspberry.”

  “I’m more of a stout fan, preferring a hearty Guinness to fruity beers, but what the hell.” She twisted off the top and took a hesitant sip. The tartness of raspberries bubbled over her tongue, playful and refreshing. “Not bad. Doesn’t taste like beer though. More like a wine cooler.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.” He shared a smile with her and seemed to be on firmer footing.

  Not for long, big boy.

  She’d give him a break for now. Gesturing with the beer, she waved him inside. “Come on, we’ll enjoy these while I give you the promised tour, and then we can…eat.” She gave that deliberate emphasis, waiting to see if he got the point. He did, and gulped another large swallow, finishing the beer.

  He grabbed another, as if needing the liquid courage, and pointed with the bottle. “Lead the way.”

  Hiding her smile, she turned and sashayed away in front of him. She thought she heard him groan again.

  It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dark interior from the brightness of the evening sun shining off the deep blue of Mistress Lake. She led him into the two-story great room with its hewn-stone fireplace, massive built-ins on each side, and the curving log staircase.

  “Wow,” he exclaimed, turning a large circle and taking in the whole room, the beer in his hand falling forgotten at his side.

  “Don’t get too excited. The tour goes downhill from here. This room is in the best shape. It’s going to take a lot of work and sweat to get the place in the condition where I can rent rooms.”

  “What made you want to come home and do this?”

  “I’ve always loved this house. The romance of it, the history, the architecture, and I was tired of working for someone else. I wanted to take a shot at running my own business.”

  “But to leave Kauai and return here? Most move away from Alaska to somewhere like the islands.”

  “Actually, I miss winter and the other seasons. After so many perfect days, you get tired of them.”

  He chuckled. “You’re a difficult woman to please.”

  “Not difficult, easily bored. I needed something more in my life. Some excitement. I couldn’t think of any place that would provide excitement like being back in Alaska.” She slowly looked him up and down. “You know what I mean?”

  Instead of answering her, he took another long swallow of his beer and turned back to the room. “You need more light in here.” He pointed to the fireplace wall. There were windows above the built-ins, but they only gave a view of the lake from the top of the staircase. “The lake is right out there, and you can’t see it. Having the southern sun shining in here during the winter will help drive away the seasonal depression some of us can get. Not to mention, make this room look grander than it already does. Expanding the deck to wrap around
to this side would be a good idea too.”

  She tried to see his vision. “How would you go about doing that, and what are we talking about in terms of cost? Buying this place took every cent I saved up, and I still had to take a loan from my dad. I want that paid off as soon as possible.” She hated owing anyone anything. And her dad was the worst. His money came with strings attached that she needed cut. The only reason she’d agreed to take the needed funds was because there wasn’t another way around it after the bank had turned her down. They were nervous about lending that much money to someone of her age. Didn’t matter the years of experience she had in the hotel management industry, they saw a cute, young blond and not much else. She was surprised Milo Greer the bank manager hadn’t patted her on the head and told her to go out and find herself a big strapping man to marry and have a dozen kids and put this idea of being a business woman out of her mind.

  Chauvinistic bastard.

  Ryder walked over to the wall in question. “With these log buildings, there’s no need to worry about structural issues. The beams are already there. All it would take is a chainsaw to cut through the wall. See here?” He pointed the metal conduit running along the baseboards. “Your electrical is running along the logs through the pipes, it isn’t hard to cap that off and move it. With two-by-four construction, you have to worry about insulation, wiring, plumbing, and load-bearing walls. It isn’t the same with a log home. You measure out the opening, say for French doors, and you take a chainsaw to the wall, and not long you have your opening.” He named a figure that didn’t scare her, and then he turned to the built-ins. “You will want to save these, as you don’t find craftsmanship like this anymore. They’re truly a work of art. I’d move them over there. You could even use them, say behind a counter for when guests check in. There’s enough room in the entry to repurpose them there.”

  “I had no idea you knew so much about construction. I thought that was your brother Ryder’s forte.”

  His face went ashen. “Uh…well, you know that I worked for my dad when I was in high school. I know how to do stuff,” he finished lamely.

  She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her smile from appearing. “That’s right, I’d forgotten that.” Although, she hadn’t. There had been many conversations between her and Dare about how construction wasn’t something he saw himself doing no matter how Jack Wilde wanted all three of his sons to work with him and eventually take over the business. Their older brother Brey had taken off to Nashville and become an award-winning song writer, though Gabi had heard he’d also had enough of living “Outside” and recently moved back. Dare had gone into building custom sleds and racing them, while it was Ryder and his sister Sorene who had the love of construction. Sorene more so with the artistic end of the business.

  “Do you think Ryder would be able to take on this project of mine?” she asked, watching him closely to see how’d he’d react.

  “Uh…well, I know that he has always wanted to get his hands on this place, but he’s currently working on another project.”

  “I don’t have a lot of money, and I had planned to do a lot of the work myself, as much as I could anyway. But I know I can’t wield a chainsaw and cut through the walls, and now that you’ve suggested that, it has to be a thing.”

  “I can talk to him for you.”

  I just bet you can.

  She almost smirked but turned toward the dining room instead. “Come on through here.” She led him through a small dining room off the kitchen. “I was thinking of taking this wall down to make the room bigger. What do you think?”

  Ryder looked around, banged on the faux paneling someone had put up. “Could be done, but don’t you want a formal dining room?”

  “You’ll understand what I mean when you see the kitchen.” He followed her into the kitchen. It was the one room that would take the most work. It needed a total gut job.

  “Oh boy,” Ryder said with a sigh, gazing around at the upgraded kitchen. Upgraded from the time the house was built but done in the early seventies with all the Brady Bunch style of the seventies. “This has to go.”

  “Right. And I was thinking the kitchen is huge. Couldn’t I steal some space in here to make the dining room larger?”

  “Exactly what I would recommend. But this is where the bulk of your money needs to go. You should also contact Sorene to see what her and Ash Bleu did with theirs at the lake house. There are no words to describe how amazing it turned out. I take it you had an inspection on the electrical and plumbing?”

  “Yes, all checked out. At least when they upgraded everything from the early nineteen hundreds, they used copper pipes.” Alaska was rich in copper, so it had been readily available.

  “That’s a relief.” Ryder walked around the kitchen and then seemed to realize what he was doing. “The best thing is to have Ryder or one of the other contractors from Wild Log Homes come out and give you a bid.”

  So, he doesn’t want to give himself away by showing off his knowledge. She decided to let that slide. “You need to see the upstairs.”

  “Lead the way.”

  She headed up the stairs, making sure to put plenty of sway in her hips as she climbed. She liked toying with him, making sure she brushed up against him whenever possible, and touching his hand or shoulder during the course of the tour. She took him through the seven bedrooms with their corresponding bathrooms before entering the jewel of the place. The master suite.

  “Wow,” Ryder said, gazing upward at the vaulted ceiling finished with tongue-and-groove pine and decorated with hand-carved trim. Large doors opened to a private balcony, and a grand master bath decorated with modern finishes of marble countertops, brushed nickel fixtures, large soaker tube, and a glass encased rain shower tiled in blue-gray slate. A walk-in closet worthy of a movie star completed the master suite.

  “I feel like I just walked through time,” Ryder said. “With the seventies kitchen, and the nineteen-twenties rustic great room, and now we’re back to the present with this room. What’s the story?”

  “The previous owners started renovations in the master bedroom. Then the husband lost his job on the slope, and they couldn’t keep the house. They had to sell fast and relocated to Montana.” And since they had to move or give the house back to the bank, she’d gotten a sweet deal on the place.

  “Too bad they hadn’t started in the kitchen. Most people tackle that first.”

  “Apparently the wife didn’t cook and hated Alaska, so the husband wanted her to have a sanctuary that was just hers.”

  “Well, good on the husband. A happy wife makes for a happy life. I don’t think I ever met them. What were their names?”

  “Steve and Tonya Hatch. They were here for maybe a year. I know Tonya didn’t get out much, and Steve worked on the slope, so he probably spent his weeks off working on the house. It was his dream to move here and have a large family. I got the impression that she didn’t share any of that. They were barely speaking when we signed the papers.”

  “That’s too bad. They say opposites attract, but sometimes, if there’s no compromising on both sides, they repel.”

  She nodded. “That sounds like it comes from personal experience.” She regarded him with interest. Had Ryder had a serious relationship that she hadn’t heard about? Her family had kept her up on most of the gossip while she’d been away, but obviously this tidbit had missed the Heart to Heart Network.

  He shifted on his feet. “Sorta. I’m ready to eat, what about you?”

  Apparently, that was all the information he was going to share with her. “Sure. Mind if we eat outside on the dock? It’s too nice to stay inside, plus I don’t have any furniture

  in here.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She moved toward him, and he backed up half a dozen steps to avoid her. That was telling. She secreted away a smile and led the way back out onto the porch where the picnic basket waited for them.

  Ryder picked up the basket and the remaining beer, a
nd they made their way to the dock that suspended over the waters of the lake. Perfect for jumping off in the summer for a swim or relaxing with a glass of wine in the evening. She had plans to buy kayaks and canoes for herself and her guests to use, but that would have to wait until the repairs could be done on the place. She probably wouldn’t be able to afford them until next summer.

  They sat and dangled their feet over the edge. Ryder opened the picnic basket and pulled out containers of German potato salad, fried chicken, and corn on the cob with chocolate-dipped strawberries for dessert. He handed her a napkin and a paper plate.

  “This looks good,” Gabi said.

  Ryder grunted his agreement and offered her a chicken breast, scooping potato salad onto her plate and added a tinfoil-wrapped ear of corn.

  They ate in silence for a time and then Ryder commented, “You have a great spot here. Close enough to town that guests could walk or ride bikes yet secluded enough to feel like you have the lake to yourself.”

  She took in the lake and the surrounding mountains. Her nearest neighbors were miles either direction hidden by a mix of spruce and birch trees giving the impression that she was alone out here. So different than Kauai where traffic and tourists had eventually crowded the very life out of her. “I feel like I can finally breathe here,” she admitted.

  “One of the best things about Alaska is having the space to breathe. I take it Kauai wasn’t like that?”

  “Somedays it was, when I could get away from the resort. There are some beaches on the island where you can still find yourself deserted, but not being able to get in a car and drive any real distance created a kind of claustrophobia called island fever. There’s only so far you can go when living on an island, and it was hard getting away from people. Similar to cabin fever that some people get here in the winter when it’s too cold to go out.”