I lifted the basket off the counter. “He’s not mine anymore, but I’m going to see what I can do about changing that.”
“Good luck.” He held up his biscuit as if toasting me.
“Thank you. Have a good day, Mr. Carrington.”
He shook his head with a smile at my still formal way of addressing him. “If I need to talk to the man, let me know.”
“Will do,” I called back to him.
My nerves were singing like a Baptist choir once I walked out the door, but I knew I had to act as if they were strung out on smooth jazz. I headed in the direction of the lake. Per Emma, their cabin was near that end of the property. They were staying in Buckhorn. All the cabins here had names based on Colorado wildlife or vegetation.
I gingerly walked the gravel path lined with pine trees, telling myself I had to do this no matter how uncomfortable it would be. I was determined to tell our future grandbabies that I hadn’t let go of our love. That ours was a love worth fighting for.
All too soon their cabin was in sight. Out front was Bobby Jay’s big country boy truck. Next to it was a sleek black Camaro. That gave me some pause. I reasoned it was just a car; Ryder was still Ryder. It was silly to think we both hadn’t changed some over the past year. I knew I had. For the first time, I was calling my own shots, despite what Ryder thought. I was going to show him he was wrong about me.
I breathed deeply, in and out and in and out before approaching the small, one-level cabin with a covered porch. The fresh mountain air invigorated me and gave me a bit more courage to walk up the porch steps. I stood on the porch, letting the sun warm my back while I waited for the bravery I’d felt last night resettle into my heart and mind. Ryder’s sultry smile popped into my head. I wished so badly to be on the receiving end of it once again. It was all the encouragement I needed. I knocked on the pine door, hoping they were awake.
I heard some rustling and then the doorknob turned. I put on my perky smile, showcasing thousands of dollars’ worth of orthodontics. It did not prepare me for what waited on the other side of the door. Shirtless Ryder in blue jeans with the top button undone.
Oh, Mylanta.
Sinful thoughts surged through me as I took him in from his mussed hair to every single taut muscle down his defined smooth chest and abs. I counted each ripple and had to hold back my desire to drop the basket and glide my fingers across his washboard stomach. But it all had nothing on the name he still wore across his heart in the prettiest red script. My name. That had to mean something, right? I stayed fixed on it longer than I should, wishing my fingers could dance across it. I longed to see his skin raise and feel his heart race because of my touch. His pectorals flexed and twitched, sending me a signal to look elsewhere.
My eyes darted up to meet the pools of chocolate I wanted to get lost in, but they weren’t exactly inviting, though they were less menacing than the last time I saw him. Those eyes began to rove over me from head to toe. I felt their touch course down my body. His eyes lingered longer on his favorite spots. Did he wish to kiss the hollow of my neck like he used to, or brush his lips across my ear as he whispered things I would never repeat out loud? Did his fingers ache to glide across my shoulders? Could he hear in his memories the intake of my breath and the pleasurable sighs his touches induced? He drew closer as if he did remember and wished, as I did, to relive every touch, but he abruptly stopped and shook his head.
“What are you doing here, Shelby?”
I had to remind myself not to be hurt by his callous tone, or at least not to show it. I took a deep breath and plastered on a smile. “I’m here to see Bobby Jay.” I held up my basket. “I didn’t get to properly congratulate him the other night, so I baked him some biscuits.”
Ryder narrowed his eyes but said not a word.
“Do my senses deceive me or is the prettiest girl from Georgia standing at my door with fresh baked biscuits?” Bobby Jay came rushing over to me from the back hall where the bedrooms were, dressed in dinosaur pajama pants, no less, and a holey T-shirt. Both men looked as if they had barely woken up. I wondered if they’d had a late night out and if they had been with anyone. It was unusual for them not to be up and ready for church. Who was I to judge, though?