Page 39 of All Because I Found You

“There’s more?”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

He glanced at the basket she placed on the coffee table. “Is that a meat basket?”

“Sure is! You got your beef summer sausage, turkey summer sausage, hickory smoked summer sausage, sweet hot mustard, some gouda, little cheddar.”

“What the hell am I going to do with all that?”

“Eat it,” she said matter-of-factly.

“It’s enough to feed a small army.”

“I’m sure you and the guys working the farms can make a decent dent.”

She wasn’t wrong, but there was one problem. He didn’t deal with any of the men he had on his payroll. Gene did. Ryder stayed away, keeping to the property of the house unless Gene needed him, and even then he always went after the men had gone home for the day. He could give it to Gene, but did people even eat this stuff?

Raelyn placed the last two baskets that didn’t fit on the coffee table on the couch. “Help me get the bike out of my car.”

“A bike? How the fuck did you get a bike in your car?”

“I had to put the back seat down and slide it in. George rode shotgun.”

“Who the hell is George?”

“The bear.”

She named the fucking bear. God help him.

Ryder ran a hand through his hair, holding it on top of his head and completely forgetting about his scars until Raelyn shot a glance in his direction, and her eyes lingered on his face.

His hand fell, the hair falling into place, but it was too late. She’d already seen the damaged skin that was a constant reminder of the regret, anger, blame, and loss he felt daily.

She bit her lip as if debating, which wasn’t like her. Raelyn didn’t debate; she just did whatever it was she wanted. Her teeth let go of her lip, and she stepped toward him. He went to move away from her, but her hand stopped him. She brushed her fingers through the hair that covered his face. His heart slammed against his chest at the contact, at the fact that her untainted hand sat so close to his battered skin.

Her inhale was quiet, but he still heard it. Slowly, she lifted her hand, moving his hair away, but it wasn’t like ripping a bandage off. It wasn’t fast and quick; it was slow and torturous. He didn’t want to see the disgust in her pretty brown eyes or the shock in the twist of her lips.

He grabbed her wrist, holding her in place. “Don’t.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he snapped, but she didn’t lower her arm. Tension crackled in the air between them. Her determined gaze met his, her eyes full of pure stubbornness. But there was something else. Something that tugged at his heart, poked at his gut, and made him forget, even if just for a second, why he didn’t want her to see what hid beneath his hair.

“What are you scared of?” Her question ate right into his fear, into the dark depths of his soul that he kept hidden. It was why he stayed in his house, far away from society. Why he refused to see people.

Her features softened, her eyes warmed, and his resolve weakened. “I don’t want you to see my shame.” The words were out before he could stop them. The truth cut through the tension and sat between them, staring them both in the face.

His grip on her wrist loosened, and her body moved into his. Her arm lifted ever so carefully as if she was waiting for him to stop her, but he was frozen—frozen by his admission, frozen that he allowed the words to flow so freely, and frozen because she didn’t waiver. Not once. This strong, beautiful woman stayed.

Her finger ran gently across the bottom of his chin, teetering along the scar that marked the good side and the bad. She traced the scar, and he swallowed as her touch drifted over to the part of himself he couldn’t stand to see.

He closed his eyes at the contrast of the soft pad of her pointer along his marred skin. It felt like the meeting of light and dark, heaven and hell, happiness and sorrow, purity and sin. Emotions that always had been one or the other for him, merged and came together as one.

Unable to fight his desires, he rested his hand on Raelyn’s hip, tightening his hold and pulling her closer. Her fingertips glided across the jagged lines of his face. His body tensed as she skimmed to the place the broken glass had cut deep.

Part of him wanted to snap away from her touch, but the other side, the side that craved it, nuzzled against the palm of her hand. Her thumb brushed across his cheekbone where the skin was discolored and scarred.

“I don’t see shame,” she said, and his eyes darted to hers. “All I see is you.”

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