Page 63 of Hook Up

I duck into the lobby bathroom to change into a sexy slip of a dress and apply fresh lipstick. I’m no fool. Ryder has his pick of women, but I’m going to drive home the point that he made the best choice, and a dress that hugs all my assets is just the ticket. Besides, the look on his face as his eyes travel the length of my body—I’m hot just envisioning it. It’s been two weeks since the best sex of my life, and I’m ready for another helping.

Here’s hoping Ryder doesn’t have some weird belief about no sex before a race. I’ve heard stranger things before.

Ryder left his suite number and the code word to get me past the front desk staff, but I’m coy when they inquire who I am, claiming to be an old friend. It’s true. We are old friends, along with being the hottest lovers on the planet. But these people don’t need to know that bit of information. Unfortunately, he isn’t answering the phone in his suite, so I flash the clerk a smile and head for the hotel lounge.

A glass of wine will do wonders to soothe my nerves while I track down my husband. Dialing his cell phone, I hear his phone ringing from inside the bar.

Isn’t that a bit of luck?

Glancing to my left, my heart sinks.

Looks like my luck ran out.

So much for tabloids being bullshit.

Not ten feet away sits Ryder, his hands grasping Mandi across the table. With trembling fingers, I dial his number again, desperate to witness his reaction. Maybe it’s that I don’t want to believe what I’m seeing, or perhaps it’s some leftover masochism from my youth, but I can’t leave without knowing.

My heart shatters when he gives the phone a quick glance before silencing the call and returning to his conversation.

This is what it feels like for someone to make a complete fool of you. It was gut-wrenching to watch my mother endure this treatment. To be on the receiving end is far, far worse.

Breathing is increasingly difficult with each passing moment, but I jerk when the bartender inquires about my drink order. “Nothing, thank you,” I manage before dashing toward the front entrance, my suitcase wobbling precariously behind me.

So much for surprising Ryder. I guess he figured since I wouldn’t be arriving until Monday that he was free to do as he pleased. With whomever he pleased.

My phone rings and I answer it without looking. “Hello?”

“Ms. Hammond, this is Mr. Givens. I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“Who are you?” I snap, in no mood to beat around the bush, especially where Ryder Gray is concerned.

“Mr. Gray’s attorney.”

I’ve heard enough. “I can’t talk right now. I’ll call you later.” It’s all I can manage, the tears bouncing off my phone’s screen.

Suddenly, it all makes sense. His lawyer, desperate to speak with me. Ryder refusing to acknowledge our nuptials or wear his ring. The articles detailing Mandi and Ryder’s reconciliation all culminating in what I just witnessed in the lobby restaurant.

Ryder didn’t miss me. He needed me in Charlotte to discuss a quick annulment, softened by a cash payout, no doubt, if I go away quietly.

This is the stuff of television reality shows, only this time, itismy reality.

My terrible reality.

Thankfully, the valet is able to have a cab by the entrance within moments, and I hop into the back. My destination? The airport.

Less than ten minutes later, my phone rings.

Ryder.

How quaint. He must have decided it’s bad form to ignore your wife, even if you only plan on keeping her on the docket for another few days.

I silence his call, but he phones again. Likely Mr. Givens told him about my frantic state and he’s hoping to smooth over this mess.

To think I thought he was different from all the other men. What a fool I am. He dangled the idea of true love in front of me and, like a fish with a shiny lure, I jumped at the chance.

I knew better, but I did it anyway. This is absolutely the last time I believe anyone with a penis.

By the fourth call, I realize he isn’t taking silence for an answer. “Hello, Ryder.” Funny how calm my voice sounds, considering the tempest brewing in my heart.

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