Page 80 of Hook Up

Lorna smirks, shaking her head. “Trust me, he doesn’t want Mandi. Her name has never come up. Unlike yours.” She grasps my hands, and I feel the energy coursing beneath her skin. The determination to repair what Ryder and I have driven asunder. “My son swore off marriage, and believe me, I bugged him enough about the idea. He told me he would only get married for true love. True, unquenchable love were his exact words. He marriedyou. He doesn’t want Mandi.”

God, I want to believe her.

With a sigh, I weigh my options. I can continue to sulk here or I can risk Ryder’s wrath. At least with the latter option, I’ll be of some use. If he doesn’t kill me first. “I’m still not convinced. I’ve never seen Ryder so angry before. But, if it will help him, how can I say no?”

“So, you’re in?”

Lorna opens her arms to me, and I don’t waste a second falling into her embrace. She’s right. I’m no quitter, especially when someone I love needs me. And Ryder, even if he’d rather spit nails than admit it, needs me more than ever. “I’m in, but I’m warning you. He’s going to be furious with us both now.”

“I’ll handle my son. See you tomorrow.”

Lorna called last night to verify the plan was still in place. She mentioned how Ryder had spoken about me again during dinner and our recent trip to Barbados. In particular, a beach we loved frolicking on during our stay.

Thankfully, she couldn’t see the flush crawling up my cheeks, because we did a hell of a lot more than frolic on that beach.

Now, I’m a bundle of nerves as the limousine pulls up Ryder’s driveway. I arrived early at his palatial home, but it took me fifteen minutes to will up the courage to enter the gate code and drive onto the premises.

To say I’m a bit out of my element is an understatement. The sprawling Mediterranean mansion more closely resembles a resort than a home, complete with manicured gardens, walking paths and a lagoon-style pool just visible from the front entrance.

I beat the limousine driver to the rear door, pulling it open and steeling myself for the inevitable argument with my husband. As soon as Lorna helps Ryder from the car, I place my hand on his forearm in an effort to lessen the shock. “Hi, Ryder.”

So much for that idea. His nose scrunches before a grimace crosses his handsome face. “What are you doing here, Greer?”

“She’s here to help,” Lorna replies, shooting me a grin brimming with confidence I don’t feel. “I have to fly home, so she’s resuming her role as your wife.”

“I don’t need her,” he mutters, those brilliant blue orbs aimed toward the ground.

Taking a step back, I throw up my hands with a helpless shrug. See? I knew he didn’t want me here. Absence has definitely not made his heart grow any fonder—at least not where I’m concerned.

“Don’t let him get to you. His bark is worse than his bite. He’s being difficult, but he knows he needs your help.” Lorna maintains a low tone, aimed for me, but her son and his acute hearing catch every word.

“You can leave too, Mom.”

“I plan on it. In less than an hour, in fact.”

We can stand on the driveway all day, arguing over nonsense, or we can focus on getting the man settled into his home. Suddenly, determination overtakes uncertainty. His mother is right. Ryder is terrified. Angry that his world has been stripped from him with no guarantee of what that means for his future.

From his point of view, he no longerhasa future.

It’s my job to prove that he does.

Ryder jerks away from his mother’s steadying hand but doesn’t make it three steps before tripping over the edge of the stair.

In a flash, I catch him, pulling his arm around my shoulder and setting him back to rights. But instead of appreciation, he glowers at me. “I can do it, Greer.”

“I know you can. Just think of me as a backup.” Giving his hand a squeeze, I will a smile from him, but it’s not happening. “I know you’re angry, but could you let me explain before you hurl yourself onto the steps?” Part of me wonders if he’ll recall his sarcastic comment to me that New Year’s Eve, as he grabbed me from tumbling to my death on a Manhattan sidewalk.

The realization flashes across his face, complete with the hint of a smile, before the scowl takes over once again, and he grunts out a reply. At least he isn’t fighting me as I direct him inside, settling him on the couch.

Glancing around, the unease sinks in. I’m way out of my element. This is by far the most expensive home I’ve ever been in, every inch screaming luxury, from the frescoed ceilings to the high-end leather couches.

I’d be ill at ease on a good day as a welcome guest. That Ryder doesn’t want me anywhere near him only ups the ante on the discomfort.

Lorna pulls me into the kitchen, handing over Ryder’s medications and therapy schedule. “They’re coming tomorrow at ten. He likely won’t cooperate, but they said this isn’t their first rodeo with difficult patients.”

“I promise I’ll take care of him, even though he doesn’t want me to. He doesn’t want me,” I manage, those damn tears backing up again.

Grasping my chin, she forces me to meet her gaze. “Love him with that fierce love I know you feel. Take care of my son. No one can do it like you.”

---