A shiver shot down her spine. She wanted to see him, too, but they were getting in too deep too fast. Weren't they?
"I—I don't think that's a good idea, Ryder," she forced herself to say. "We've seen each other every day this week."
"What's wrong with that?"
She searched for a good answer and couldn't come up with one.
Ryder jumped into the silence. "Why don't we meet up after work? I'll take you to dinner. We can talk about tomorrow. And we can also discuss my grandfather's birthday dinner."
Framing the evening in those terms made it easier to say yes.
"I guess that would work."
"And when we're not talking about our respective grandfathers, we can just enjoy being together. I want to see you, Bailey, and I think you want to see me."
"That might be true, but anything between you and me is complicated. Look at how Adam reacted when he caught us kissing last night."
"He's fine about it."
"Is he? What did he say to you after I left?" she asked, still curious about what had gone down between Ryder and her brothers.
"He said I better not hurt you. And Zane, of course, agreed with him."
"Zane?" she echoed. "When did you talk to Zane?"
"Adam and I went to Baldie's and had a beer with Zane."
She inwardly groaned. "So, Zane knows you kissed me, too?"
"He knows you kissed me," he corrected. "But does it really matter what your brothers think?"
"No," she admitted.
"Good. Why don't we have pizza tonight? We can go to Izzy's or I can pick it up, and we can eat at my place."
Being around other people would only get more people talking and wondering about them, but being alone with Ryder at his house seemed like trouble just waiting to happen.
Unfortunately, that kind of trouble was really appealing. "I'll meet you at your house at eight."
"Perfect. What do you like on your pizza?"
"Anything but pineapple."
"You got it. I'll see you soon, Bailey."
His promising words made her swallow hard. She told herself they were just going to talk, but she'd never been a very good liar—not even to herself.
Twelve
Ryder made a stop at his grandfather's house on his way to the pizza parlor. He'd been thinking about Bailey all day, and he was thrilled she'd set up a meeting with her grandfather to help him get what he wanted. Now, he needed to help her. She wanted ideas about what his grandfather liked to eat. Since he didn't have a clue, he decided to ask the one person who could help him.
"Ryder, you're going to have to get your own key if you're going to visit this often," Leticia said, as she let him in the house.
"If anyone wanted me to have a key, they would have offered before now."
"Oh, I'm sure that's not true. Unfortunately, your parents are out, and your grandfather is napping."
"That's fine. I actually wanted to talk to you."
She closed the front door behind him. "What about?"
"Grandfather's birthday dinner on Tuesday night. I'm bringing in a chef."
"That's what your mother told me. I must admit I was surprised. Who is it?"
He glanced around the marbled foyer, not wanting to have the conversation anywhere his grandfather might wander in. "Let's go into the kitchen."
"You sound secretive, but all right."
She led him down the hall and into the gourmet kitchen. As he glanced around the room, he thought Bailey would enjoy working here. Since they'd had many catered dinners over the years, the kitchen had all of the most modern equipment as well as a big selection of beautiful crystal glasses, china and silver.
"Would you like some coffee or tea?" Leticia asked.
"No, thanks."
"Then tell me who's going to be cooking in my kitchen."
While Leticia made the everyday meals for the family, she never cooked for parties or other events his parents or grandfather hosted. She'd said a long time ago that she didn't like the pressure, and she wasn't a fancy chef, but still he hoped he wasn't going to insult her in some way by bringing in Bailey. On the other hand, Bailey might be a better choice than some out-of-town chef, who would probably not treat Leticia that well.
"I will tell you, but first I have to ask you to make me a promise," he said. "I need to keep the identity of the chef a secret from everyone in the house until after the birthday dinner."
She gave him a speculative look. "And why on earth would I do that?"
"Because the person I have in mind is an amazing chef and will make a dinner to remember, if she's given the opportunity. But that won't happen if anyone finds out her last name."
Surprise moved through her gaze. "Are you talking about Bailey Tucker?"
"Yes. She's back in town, and she's a fantastic cook."
"I don't doubt that, but it's not a good idea, Ryder. This is your grandfather's ninety-fifth birthday. It's too important to risk having some big fight about the Tucker-Westbrook feud. Maybe another night…"
He understood her reservations, but he had to insist. "It has to be the birthday dinner."
"Why?"
"Because I want to end the feud, and it's the best time."
"How does Bailey cooking your grandfather's birthday dinner accomplish that?"
"He needs to realize that the Tuckers are not all bad, and that they have a lot to offer. Plus, Bailey is interested in leasing Veronica's and opening up her own restaurant there. I know Grandfather will dismiss the idea out of hand just because Bailey is a Tucker. I want to show him what she can do without him knowing it. Then I'll help her make the pitch."
She gave him a thoughtful look. "You're awfully worked up about this, Ryder. I don't think it's all about the feud, is it?"
"It's mostly about that."
"And the other part is that you're interested in Bailey—a pretty blonde with sky-blue eyes. You like her."
"I do," he admitted. "And she's the one woman my family will hate unless I can change their minds."
"Do you really care if they don't like her and you do? You're your own man, Ryder; you always have been. I think that's how you survived in a house that got so cold after Charlie died."
He was almost shocked to hear Charlie's name pass her lips.
"I know I'm not supposed to mention him," Leticia said. "But I also know how difficult things got for you after he died, how hard you tried to make your parents happy and proud. At some point, you realized you couldn't fill that hole in their heart, and you moved on with your life. I was happy when that happened. Now I worry that you're back home and you're getting caught up in old feuds that eventually no one will remember."
"Thanks for recognizing how difficult things were for me back then. But you don't have to worry. I know what I want, and I'm going to do everything I can to get it. Bailey has set up a meeting for me with her grandfather about his land, and I want to give her a shot at getting the restaurant. We're trading favors. All I'm asking is that you don't tell anyone it's Bailey doing the cooking."
"Even if I don't say anything, your mother will come in to check on dinner and taste some of the food. She likes to micromanage."
"I'm going to keep her out of the house that day. I don't know how yet; but I'll figure something out."
"If you can do that, I'll keep my mouth shut."
"Thank you. Now, next question. Bailey wants to cook my grandfather's favorite meal. Any ideas of what he might like? She wants to make it really special."
"Of course. I know exactly what he likes and doesn't like. And if you really want to impress him, I have the perfect idea. Come with me."
She moved across the kitchen and opened the door leading into the basement. He followed her down the stairs and across the well-organized storage room to a stack of plastic bins.
"It's in the top one," she said. "If you can get it down."
He grabbed the top bin off the stack and set it on a table. Pulling off the lid, he saw menus from Vero
nica's, as well as personal journals and loose recipe cards. "What's all this?"
"Your grandmother's recipes—some from the restaurant, some from elsewhere."
"But she didn't cook," he said in confusion.
"No, but she had her chefs whip up your grandfather's favorite meals. And every time they traveled somewhere and had an amazing lunch or dinner, she insisted on getting the recipe. She kept all of them in here and sometimes there are notes about the meal they had, where they were, what the occasion was. If Bailey wants to make your grandfather a meal to remember, then she should take him on a trip down memory lane."
"I was kind of hoping for just a few suggestions," he said, thinking the big bin was only going to put Bailey off.
"That might be easier, but it won't be as good. Let your Bailey decide if the items in this box inspire her or not."
He should say that she wasn't his Bailey, but he kind of liked the sound of that, so he simply put the lid back on the bin and said, "Okay, I'll do that. Thanks, Leticia."
"You're welcome. Do you think Bailey will stay in town if she can open a restaurant here?"
"It might make a difference."
She gave him a knowing smile. "Then let's see if we can make that happen, because I'd like nothing more than for you to stay, too."
"My staying is not dependent on Bailey or anyone."
"No, but it's easier to stay home when home makes you really happy."
"We're not together," he forced himself to say. "You're jumping to conclusions."
"Maybe I am, and perhaps you and Bailey together is the worst possible idea, considering how much hatred there is between your families. On the other hand, the only way to end an old feud is probably through a great love story."
* * *
Leticia's words were still ringing through Ryder's head after he returned home. He put the pizza in the oven and then returned to the living room to make a fire. It was a cold and rainy night, but the house would be warm and inviting for Bailey.
Thinking about her brought him back to Leticia's suggestion that a great love story would end the feud.
He'd never really believed in once-in-a-lifetime love stories. He thought there were many different kinds of love stories one could have in life, but the big one, the one to triumph over all others…he wasn't so sure it existed.
He certainly hadn't seen evidence of that kind of passion in the house he'd grown up in. He supposed his parents loved each other, but they were rarely affectionate in front of him, and sometimes they didn't even seem like they liked each other all that much.
He knew they'd shut down after Charlie's death, and maybe in a way he had, too; he'd just been too young to realize it. Over the years, he'd had girlfriends, women he cared about—some he'd even considered having a relationship with—but there had always been other, more important goals in his life. Certainly, his military career had kept him busy and far, far away from home for years at a time. It had been easy to avoid anything deep and serious.
But his life was different now. He was in Eagle's Ridge. He was home. He couldn't use his normal list of excuses, and the truth was he didn't want to, at least not with Bailey. He wanted to see where things could go with her.
He hadn't felt such a sense of urgency in—forever.
But he felt it with her. He had to handle it carefully, because the last thing he wanted to do was scare her off. Unfortunately, going slow seemed like both the absolutely best idea and the absolutely worst idea he'd ever had.
Being with Bailey was both exhilarating and unsettling—emotions he liked a lot. Feeling nervous only meant something or someone was important. And he felt those nerves tighten now when bright headlights bounced off his front windows.
He grabbed the umbrella by the door and ran out to greet her. The rain had picked up again, and he didn't want her to get wet.
She got out of the car with a smile. "Thanks. I already got drenched once today."
"No problem." He held the umbrella over her head as she grabbed her bag and closed the door. Then they ran across the drive to the porch. He opened the door for her, then shook out the umbrella and left it outside as he walked into the living room.
"It's nice in here. I like the fire," she said, as she took off her coat, revealing a pair of black jeans and a light-blue top that clung to her curves and accented her eyes.
God, she was pretty. How the hell was he going to keep his hands off her? His hands actually clenched in fists as he fought the desire running through his body. Tonight was supposed to be about pizza and planning, but the blood was rushing out of his head so fast, he could barely think.
"Ryder?" she said, an uncertain note in her voice. "You're staring."
"I can't help myself. You're beautiful, Bailey."
She licked her lips. "I was going to say how hungry I was and that I hope you got an extra-large pizza. But now…"
"Now?" His gut tightened as he saw the gleam of desire in her eyes.
"I'm hoping we can reheat it…later." She took a step forward, then paused.
"Don't." He shook his head at her hesitation. "Don't second-guess it."
He bridged the gap between them, framing her face with his hands. Her skin was soft and smooth, her hair silky. He'd always thought he had discipline, willpower, but Bailey's pink lips were just too damn inviting.
He brought his mouth down on hers with more force than he intended, but there was a hunger driving him that he hadn't felt before. He needed her, and he couldn't help but let her know it.
Bailey opened her mouth to his, and their tongues danced together in a tangle of passion, from which there would be no turning back.
When kissing her wasn't enough, he ran his mouth down the side of her jaw, his tongue tracing the curve of her ear, which brought forth a small moan of pleasure, and that only made him want to hear more. He slid his lips down her neck, wanting to taste every inch of her.
He raised his head, staring down at her bright wide gaze, her pink cheeks, her soft lips. "More." It wasn't a question but a statement.
"More," she agreed. "Much more."
He pulled a couple of condoms out of his pocket and tossed them on the coffee table.
"You're prepared," she murmured.
"Since I met you," he said with a smile.
"Do you know how crazy this is?"
"I'm thinking crazy good. What about you?"
She gave a helpless shrug. "I don't want to think anymore. I just want to feel." Moving forward, she grabbed the hem of his knit shirt. "This needs to come off."
"I agree." He helped her pull the shirt over his head, and then he tossed it on the ground.
He liked the way Bailey reached for him with greedy hands, her warm fingers drawing goose bumps along his skin as she caressed his abs. His body hardened in anticipation. He wanted everything to go faster, but he also didn't want to rush it.
Putting his hand around the nape of her neck, he pulled her toward him, going in for another kiss that went long and deep. Then he helped her off with her sweater, which quickly joined his shirt on the ground.
Her rose-colored bra was lacy, barely covering her full breasts. He flicked the bra open and pushed the straps off her shoulders as his hands covered her breasts, his thumbs playing with her nipples. She let out another sexy gasp as his mouth followed the path his hands had just taken.
And still it wasn't enough.
"Jeans," she ordered, her fingers reaching for the top button of his jeans.
His pulse raced even faster—if that was possible.
He kicked off his jeans and boxers, taking only a second to enjoy the look of female appreciation she gave him and the soft words, she uttered—"Oh, my,"—before helping her out of her own jeans, taking a silky thong down at the same time.
Bailey was a beautiful woman, everything he'd imagined and more. "Perfect," he whispered, gazing into her eyes. "You. This. Us."
She gave him a sexy smile. "I hope so. Let's find out."
As they
fell down together on the sofa cushions, he proceeded to show her just how perfect they could be.
Thirteen
She hadn't felt this good in…she couldn't remember when. Bailey snuggled back against Ryder's broad, masculine chest as she gazed sleepily at the fire, a blaze that didn't begin to compare to the heat she and Ryder had just generated.
His arm tightened around her waist, and as he nuzzled her neck with his sexy mouth, she smiled in pure pleasure. Then she turned on her side, putting her arm around him as they faced each other.
"Well, did I say perfect or what?" he asked.
"It was perfect," she agreed. "I think you like a challenge."
"I think I like you," he said, brushing her lips with his.
"I like you, too." The words didn't really equate to the depth of emotion running through her. She didn't know how she'd fallen so hard and so fast, but she couldn't deny that Ryder had turned her life upside down. She'd come to Eagle's Ridge to lick her wounds, to figure out her life. She hadn't expected to fall for anyone—certainly not anyone with the last name of Westbrook.
Now what?
The question ran around in her head, but she didn't have an answer.
Maybe that was okay. Maybe she didn't need an answer. Maybe she just needed him.
"We should do all that again," she suggested. "In fact, I have a few other ideas."
"So do I. Should we go into the bedroom?"
"The fire is nice. And I feel…lazy."
"Me, too." His hand came to rest on her hip, his warm fingers teasing the laziness right out of her.
"Then you better stop that, or we'll be using a lot more energy really soon."
"I'm ready," he said with an enthusiasm that made her smile.
She threw her leg over his and planted her lips on his mouth and decided she was ready, too.
* * *
It was after ten when they finally made it off the couch. After using the bathroom, she grabbed one of Ryder's T-shirts out of his drawer and wandered back into the kitchen.
Ryder had put on his jeans and was heating up the pizza in the oven. "It takes longer, but it's better than the microwave," he said.
Ryder (7 Brides for 7 Soldiers Book 1) Page 12