“Oh. Swimming’s worth doing my hair again.” Bree swam closer to them and opened her hands. “Jump to me, Tate.”
Tate grinned and glanced up at his dad. Ryder returned his smile then threw him in the air to Bree. She caught him. His rounded little tummy was adorable poking out over the blue floral suit. She risked a glance at Ryder. He had a completely different build in his swimsuit. He pushed a hand through his hair, shoving the water off. The way his bicep flexed made her mouth go dry.
Focus on Tate. She smiled down at the little boy and pushed through the water to the edge of the pool. Building a relationship with him was key to helping him, but she truly enjoyed being around children and Tate was exceptionally cute and easy to be around.
Lifting him onto the pool deck, she asked, “Do you want to jump?”
He nodded. She stepped back a pace. He shook his head and shooed her with his hand.
“Go back more?” Bree asked.
He nodded. Then after she moved back two more steps, he held up a hand for her to stop. He definitely got everything he wanted without having to form one word. She didn’t want to demand he talk, but she needed to set up opportunities where his option would be to speak because he was fully capable of forming words. She’d have to think on that.
Tate launched himself off the side, splashing her as she caught him. He laughed and then pulled on her arm, signaling her to return to the pool deck.
“Tate?” Bree met his eyes. “Do you want to do it again?”
He nodded.
“Can you ask me please?”
He stared at her for half a beat. He knew exactly what she wanted. Was it crazy to think that he almost looked afraid to talk? He rubbed his chest, the sign language symbol for please.
Bree felt like there was a huge missing piece she couldn’t see here. Tate laughed. He was smart. He could form the sounds with his tongue. He obviously trusted and loved his father, yet he was refusing to talk. Why?
Ryder had a hard time falling asleep as he mulled over the day with Bree and Tate. She was feisty, funny, and unassuming. When she’d cannonballed into the pool, he’d been stunned. Jessica would rarely get in the pool and was furious when she got splashed while she was sunbathing. It took her hours to get her long blonde curls right, and she was worried chlorine would mess up her costly and time-consuming highlights. He shouldn’t compare Bree to his deceased wife, but they were two very different creatures. Bree almost always had a smile on her face and a glint of mischief in her eyes. Jessica had only smiled when she was with Tate or when she thought a camera or someone important was watching.
He shook his head and pressed his eyes closed. He didn’t know Bree, and he was being silly dredging up old memories of Jessica. He tried to focus his memories of her in positive ways so that Tate would feel like he’d had a great mother. She had been great to her son. It was amazing because Jessica had been livid when she found out she was pregnant shortly after their honeymoon. She didn’t want to ruin her perfect body or easy lifestyle, but she’d fallen in love with Tate as quickly as Ryder had. It was the only thing they’d had in common.
He said a prayer to not think ill of the dead, and Bree’s beautiful face took over his thoughts again. She’d told him not to cross any lines in their initial meeting, and hopefully he hadn’t. He noticed she’d grown more comfortable with him throughout the day. She was great with Tate and didn’t seem to psychoanalyze them too much, besides her asking him not to coddle Tate and to help Tate trust himself, whatever that meant for a four-year-old.
When she’d pulled off her tank top at the pool, he’d felt stirrings inside that he knew he could never act on. Her tall, trim body was absolutely perfect to him. Yet his attraction to her was much more than her smooth dark skin and exquisite face—she was genuine, kind, confident, and funny. Jessica would’ve been appalled by Bree’s crazy hair and funny comments. Ryder thought Bree was pretty close to perfect.
He heard muffled crying from upstairs and jolted out of bed. He was running for the stairs when he realized he only had some boxers on. What if Bree heard the cries too? Darting into his walk-in closet, he found some sweats and tugged them on quickly before pounding up the stairs.
As he reached Tate’s room, he heard a soft singing. Pausing, his eyes swept around the room, lit only by Tate’s Captain America nightlight. Bree sat in the recliner, holding his son. She gently rocked back and forth as she sang a soft song about Jesus loving the children. The air rushed from Ryder’s body like he’d run full tilt into Brady Giles at practice. Bree’s dark curls contrasted so perfectly with Tate’s blond ones. Their heads were bent close together as she sang, and Ryder’s little boy rested his head on her shoulder. Tate’s eyes were shut, and it was obvious he was already asleep again.
Ryder was so used to being the one who comforted Tate after a nightmare that he wasn’t sure how he felt about Bree taking over his job so easily, but Tate looked comfortable and so cute cuddled in her arms.
She glanced up at Ryder. Their gazes locked and held. He didn’t move, felt like he could hardly breathe. Her lips parted, and it was all he could do to not rush across the room, bend down, and lift them both into his arms. He’d tuck Tate back into bed. Then he’d sample those full lips of Bree’s.
Whew. The room was suddenly stifling. He hardly knew Bree, and she was their nanny/speech pathologist. She hadn’t wanted him to cross any lines in their initial meeting, what would she think if she knew he was dreaming about kissing her?
She slowly stood, and Ryder found his feet, rushing to her side. She shook her head. “Pull down his bed, please.”
He backed away, not sure if he liked someone else taking over the care of his boy. He straightened and then pulled back the tousled covers. Bree laid Tate down. He stirred and rolled into a tight ball on his right side. Bree pulled the covers up over his little body. She bent down and placed a kiss on his cheek. Ryder swallowed hard. The move had been innocent and incredibly sexy.
She straightened and glanced his way. She looked much too appealing in a tank top and fitted running pants.
Ryder didn’t know what to say or where to go. She’d taken care of his boy. He nodded and forced a smile at her then started backing away toward the stairs. Bree came after him, her face determined. “We need to talk,” she whispered.
He inclined his head toward the stairs down to his suite. She shook her head and hurried past him out into the hallway. Ryder walked to the bed and glanced down at his little guy. He loved him so much. He bent down and kissed Tate’s cheek, exactly where Bree had just kissed him. It was intimate and made him feel like he was playing house with this incredible woman.
He straightened and followed Bree out into the hallway, shutting the door softly behind him. The hallway was lit with soft paneling lights. Still, it was light enough to see every bit of her beauty. Her high cheekbones, those incredible dark brown eyes, the long lashes shadowing them, and the lips that looked so full and intriguing. He let his gaze travel down her graceful neck to her lean shoulders and the curves that he’d glimpsed earlier in her odd swimwear.
“Bree,” he murmured, so confused right now. He wanted to pull her close and kiss her until some of this confusion and desire went away.
She moved in closer to him, and his heartbeat picked up. Was she feeling the same stirrings as him? He lifted a hand, wanting to cup her face and sample her lips.
“He talks in his sleep,” Bree said, her head bent close to Ryder’s and excitement lighting up her eyes.
Ryder’s hand froze, and he quickly pulled it back and stared at her. “What?” He had to have heard her wrong.
“Tate talks in his sleep,” she said again.
Ryder wondered if this beautiful and seemingly intelligent lady was crazy. Had he made a mistake bringing her into his home? He stepped back, running into the wall. Bree watched him expectantly. Then she folded her arms across her chest. “You don’t believe me?”
Ryder lifted one shoulder and hand. “I’ve slep
t downstairs from him every night of his life. Don’t you think I would’ve heard him talk in his sleep?”
“It’s quiet. Maybe you weren’t listening for it.”
Ryder’s brow furrowed.
“You put him to sleep, and then you go downstairs and fall asleep yourself, right?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, but I can hear noises from his room through the staircase. I come up quite often when he screams in his sleep.”
She nodded. “You probably couldn’t hear his quiet voice when he talks. His screams from the nightmare weren’t an intelligible word, but before he screamed it was.”
“How do you know?”
She looked away from him. “It’s been bugging me all day that he makes all kinds of noises, he’s smart, he can enunciate sounds to form words. He’s simply not talking. He’s choosing not to talk.”
Did she know what a gut punch that was? Tate had spoken before Jessica died. Ryder must be failing as a father if his son was blatantly refusing to talk.
“I came into his room and waited in the chair, listening. He said ‘Mama’ distinctly several times and ‘don’t go’ before he started screaming and woke himself up.”
Ryder leaned heavily into the wall. Was she telling the truth? He’d never thought to camp out in Tate’s room at night and see if he was verbal in his sleep. “It’s somehow tied up with losing his mom?”
Bree nodded. “I think so. But we’ll have to watch and see what we find out. We might need to get him to a psychiatrist to get to the bottom of it.”
Ryder loved that she kept saying we, and he loved that in less than a day she’d seen things with Tate no one else had. He took the two steps to her, put his hands around her waist, and lifted her into the air. “Thank you!”
“Whoa.” Bree put her hands on his shoulders and laughed. “You’re crazy.”
Ryder lowered her to her feet. He didn’t pull her in tight like he wanted, but he kept his hands on her waist, and happily, she kept hers on his shoulders. Her warm palms did a number on his bare flesh.
“Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me.”
Bree smiled. She gently squeezed his shoulders before letting go. He released her waist, even though he didn’t want to, but she didn’t step back. “We still don’t have a solution, just another piece to the puzzle.”
“It’s a hundred times better than what I had this morning. Thank you.”
She nodded and bit at the side of her lip. Ryder blinked down at her, so taken by her smile and her beauty. He forced himself to make this about Tate. “I’m going to camp out in his room for a bit,” he said.
“I thought you might. Hopefully, he’ll talk again.” She stepped back and then, with a whispered “Goodnight,” turned and strode to her room.
Ryder stayed there for a few seconds. Relief and gratitude washed over him. Tate talked. It was a miracle he hadn’t let himself hope for. Now, if they could just figure out how to get him to talk voluntarily. And if Ryder could figure out how not to grab Bree and hug her with gratitude. That had to be what was going on. Lots of gratitude that she was helping them. That and the fact that he hadn’t allowed himself to date since Jessica had passed. Plus, he and Jessica had never had a stable, happy relationship. He was terrified to date again and find out that his mom was right—he simply chose poorly when it came to women. If he could get someone like Bree to date him, he might change his mom’s mind.
He smiled and hurried into Tate’s room.
Chapter Four
Bree woke early the next morning and headed for the gym down the hallway. She’d struggled sleeping last night after her discovery with Tate and also remembering how Ryder had impulsively grabbed her and lifted her into the air. She stewed over how to help Tate consciously talk, and how to not fall for her handsome boss. Who knew something as simple as hands on her waist, her touching his bare shoulders, and the sight of his beautiful chest could set off an inferno inside of her?
She did a quick sprint on the treadmill for ten minutes, following a pattern of twenty seconds sprinting and twenty seconds walking to recover. Then she used the free weights and cable machines. She wondered if Tate had spoken in his sleep again. She thought Ryder would’ve come and told her if he did, but maybe he was trying to keep boundaries, and coming into her bedroom definitely wouldn’t be smart.
The door to the gym opened, and her eyes darted over to see Ryder walk in. He was wearing a tank top and fleece shorts. He looked incredible and exhausted. He gave her a wan smile.
“Did you sleep at all?” she asked, releasing the cable handle and facing him fully.
He shook his head. “Not much.”
“Did he say anything?” Would Ryder believe her? She knew what she’d heard. It had been soft, but as clear as them speaking right now.
“No.” His blue eyes were rimmed with red, and he looked so exhausted she wanted to make him go lay back down.
“You believe me?” It came out too loud and too demanding.
Ryder slowly crossed the distance between them. His gaze was fixed on her, and Bree felt like she was being pulled in by a tractor beam. It was all she could do to not run into his arms and beg him to believe her.
He stopped just shy of her and stared down. “I’ve known you less than a day, Bree Stevens, but something inside tells me you’re the one who can help us. You’re the answer to my prayers. Of course, I believe you.”
Bree swallowed hard and swayed a little bit on her feet. His faith in her made her feel exhilarated and uneasy. What if she couldn’t help Tate like Ryder was hoping? How did you force someone to talk, and even if you could, was forcing a child the best thing? No.
“Thank you,” she said, instead of voicing her fears and concerns.
He nodded and stepped back, as if realizing how intense he was getting or possibly how much responsibility he was putting on her. She forced a smile. “I’ll go shower quickly and be ready in case Tate wakes up.”
His smile was also forced. “I told you the little guy’s a sleeper.” His smile disappeared. “Probably because his sleep is interrupted so often.” He clenched and unclenched one fist. “I realize this has to be related to him losing his mom, but he was so young. I don’t even have that many memories at three-and-a-half- to four-years-old. But you think he remembers her, right? You said that he said, ‘Mama, don’t go?’” His voice broke slightly as he said it, and he glanced away from her.
Bree stepped closer. She probably stank like sweat, but he needed her right now. Maybe this job was as much about healing the dad as it was the son. She crossed the lines she’d asked him not to cross as she wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head in the crook of his neck. He started briefly, and she could hear his heart thumping wildly against her. Her own heart was racing. This was supposed to be a hug of comfort. Was it working at all?
Ryder’s arms slowly came around her back, and he rested his head against her hair, which she had pulled back in a messy ponytail. “It’s not as soft as it looks,” he murmured.
Bree laughed, fighting the desire rushing through her. “Lots of product to make it look as good as it does and not frizz out.”
He nodded against her hair. “To look amazing.”
Bree cleared her throat. This was not the direction she’d meant this hug to go. What were you expecting? The voice inside her head was bitingly sarcastic. She pushed it away. “You and Tate have both been through something horrific,” she said, trying to refocus on why she was holding him—Comfort, comfort. Please let him think it’s for comfort. “It’s going to be okay.”
Ryder leaned back, and she tilted her chin up to focus on him. “So you’re hugging me to reassure me it’ll all work out.” The slight tilt to his lips told her he knew she’d felt more in this hug than reassurance.
“Y-yes.” She pulled back and spun away. “Have a good workout.” Rushing from the gym, she felt his eyes on her back. Sheesh, that man was making it impossible for her to act like a professional.
&n
bsp; Ryder pounded through sprint sets and weight sets. Even though he hadn’t slept, he had more energy than usual. Tate had spoken in his sleep, and Bree had willingly hugged him. Though the hug had comforted his worries about his son, the feelings created by her body pressing against his were so much more than comfort—excitement, exhilaration, bliss. He had never known a woman in his arms could feel like that. He and Jessica had dated since they were sixteen, and in his memories, they’d fought more than they got along. His parents, brothers, sister, and teammates had begged him to dump her and date someone else, but he was dumb and insecure. She was gorgeous, the head cheerleader, the girl every guy in the school drooled over. It had always been a twisted source of pride that she’d chosen him. Now, he knew how stupid and immature he’d been, but he couldn’t change anything about the wasted years and miserable relationship they’d had. The only thing he could do now was learn from his mistakes. That would definitely make his mama happy.
Bree. She was a breath of fresh air—fun, happy, and even though he’d thought her face was absolutely gorgeous the first time he saw her, she’d grown more attractive to him every hour she’d been here. He pounded out a set of dropping pushups and tried to be reasonable. Bree was hired to be here, and he needed to treat her as a professional and not become attracted to his son’s therapist. But she’d hugged him. And it had felt marvelous.
He made it through his workout and saw it was after nine. He hurried to Tate’s room, wondering where Bree was. Her bedroom door was open, but he didn’t see any sign of her. He carefully opened Tate’s bedroom door and paused just inside. The shades were still down, and most of the light was coming from behind Ryder. His eyes adjusted, and he could see Tate sprawled out in his too-big bed. He glanced around and found Bree. She was perched in an overstuffed chair with a notebook in hand, her phone and a laptop computer next to her.
She lifted a hand in greeting and whispered, “You weren’t kidding. He sleeps late.”
The Devoted Groom Page 4