Page 27 of Rushing Into Love

“Lots of practice.” He shook his head.

“Football?”

“No—Charlie,” he chuckled. “You okay, little man?”

Charlie stood at the end of the table, a forlorn look on his face.

“I’m really sorry,” he whispered, staring at the brown puddle on the floor.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” I said, patting his shoulder. “It’s just papers. They’ll dry.”

At that, he burst into tears. Ryder handed me my laptop, then embraced his son, rubbing his back to console him.

“It’s okay. Nobody’s mad. Next time, just wait, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” Charlie whimpered into his dad’s shirt. “I’m really sorry. And thirsty.” He blinked up at Ryder, shiny tears still on his cheek.

Ryder shook his head. “I’ll get you another drink, bud, don’t worry.”

Meeting my gaze over Charlie’s head, Ryder said, “I’m really sorry about that.” He nodded towards the soggy mess that had been my work space. “And thanks for taking care of him.”

I shrugged. “It’s fine, no problem. Seriously. Get him another drink and I’ll mop this up.”

Grabbing some napkins, I cleaned up the table as best I could. Charlie helped and soon we were all drinking our not-too-hot-this-time beverages.

After Charlie slurped his drink down in record time, he asked to play at the game table. Ryder gave him the go-ahead. “Just stay right there, where I can see you.” He pointed at the kid-sized table in the back, where another little girl was sitting and coloring.

“Okay, Daddy,” Charlie nodded, trotting off.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Ryder said, “Thanks again for taking care of him. You didn’t have to do that.” He caught my gaze, locking his marine eyes onto mine, and a rush of heat flooded my body.

“It was no biggie,” I said, blushing. “He was upset and you were busy saving my laptop—it was the least I could do.”

“Yeah, well, it meant a lot to me.”

He held eye contact with me for a long moment, then broke off, turning to check on Charlie.

“Sorry.” He swiveled back around to face me. Rubbing the back of his neck, he said in a low voice, “Ever since the divorce, I’ve been hypervigilant. I try not to make it obvious, but the threat of Shayna is always there, you know?”

“That must be tough,” I said, reaching out and touching his arm. A frisson of heat shimmered between us and my heart hammered double-time. We gazed at each other across the table, neither of us moving.

Finally, Ryder broke the spell. “What are you working on, anyway? You looked intense when we came in—I hope you can still salvage your notes.” He shot a baleful glance at my sodden notebook, the white pages now tinged brown.

Somehow, I managed to breathe again. “Oh, just work stuff. I might be doing an interview soon; I was ironing out my pitch.” I didn’t feel like going into all the details, especially considering the stickiness of the situation.

“Well, good luck. I hope you get it.” He shot me a dazzling smile, all sincerity and dimples.

“Thanks.”

“Daddy?” Charlie appeared at Ryder’s side, tugging on his shirt sleeve. “I’m ready to go home.” He looked over at Ryder, wide-eyed.

Ryder checked his watch. “Okay, bud. Gimme a sec. Go clean up your mess.”

Charlie scooted away and Ryder leaned across the table, dropping a soft kiss on my cheek.

“Thanks again, Bree, for looking out for Charlie. That was really sweet of you.” He moved back into his own space, leaving behind the scent of his clean aftershave.

“My pleasure,” I said, warmth flooding my body.

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