Page 27 of Ryder

He doesn’t stop me even though he easily could. Instead, he laughs. “See you soon, honey,” he calls out as I pull the door closed, giving it a hard yank to make sure it’s fully shut. It locks automatically, but the damn thing sometimes sticks, and then the lock doesn’t engage.

Chapter11

Claire

I let my nerves take over only after I’ve securely locked the deadbolt. I’m shaking too badly to climb the stairs. Instead, I lean against the door and slide down until I’m sitting on my butt, knees drawn up, head hanging between them. This stairwell is a bit creepy on a normal day, but it’s even worse tonight. It’s nothing but an isolated landing with a door to the bakery, a door to the outside, and stairs leading up to the apartment.

I take deep breaths, but the shaking won’t subside. I need to pull myself together before I go upstairs. I consider what to do next. Should I tell my parents? They must not have heard me pull up. In fact, I hear the television. The volume is loud. They’re laughing. They must be watching something hilarious.

I don’t want to talk about Smith. I don’t want it to be a thing. I don’t want to deal with the backlash of the whole town finding out he assaulted me behind my own home. It’s humiliating. Besides, he would undoubtedly say I was being overly melodramatic and twist the story until everyone in town believed him.

No. I won’t go there. I won’t mention I even saw Smith. I’ll go upstairs with a smile on my face and tell my parents about Ryder and his plans for the community. That’s what they’re expecting, and that’s what they’ll get.

Taking a deep breath, I pull myself together and head up the stairs. I’m not nearly as happy as I was before my encounter with Smith. I’m also exhausted, but I paste on a smile as I step into the living room.

My father sees me and immediately mutes the television.

“You’re home,” my mother says cheerfully. “We’ve been so eager to hear about your day.”

“Surprised, too,” my father says with a chuckle. “There’s no way you spent all that time with those Wilde boys simply asking them about their intentions for the town.” He lifts a brow, grinning.

This might not be as difficult as I expected.

My face heats, and I redirect all my thoughts to Ryder, ignoring my altercation with Smith.

My mom sits up straighter; she’s also smiling. “I heard two of them have arrived. Is that true?”

I nod. “Yes, Ryder and Tiago. They’re brothers, two of the three children of Amos’s oldest son—William.”

My father rubs his chin, frowning slightly. “William must be about seventy. I think he’s thirteen years older than me. How old are his sons?”

“Ryder is forty. Tiago is the older one; I guess about forty-four.” I watch their expressions.

“And…” My mother leans forward.

I giggle and shrug. “Not going to lie. I have a connection with Ryder. You might as well know. I’m sure he’ll be here tomorrow to get pastries. He wants to meet you.” I hope that fact softens the shock about his age.

My father lifts a brow. “Meet us. Huh…”

My mother’s smile widens. “He’s kind of old for you, but I’ll withhold judgment until I meet him. And you texted that he wants us to come to dinner. That’s…interesting.”

“Yeah, he insisted. He’s a good guy. I’m not going to get all starry-eyed over him or anything. It was one day. But he’s nice and funny, and I like him.” Part of that is not true. I am far more than starry-eyed, but admitting that would make me sound too eager.

“Did you learn anything about their intentions for the town?” my father asks.

“A lot, actually.”

My mother stands. “I’ll make us some herbal tea while you talk. I’m sure you’re tired. Just give us the gist. You can expand on it later.”

It’s after eight when I finally shut myself in my bedroom. I’m extremely tired, but I’m keyed up at the same time. I’m worried I won’t be able to get to sleep. My mind is going to be racing as soon as I lie down.

Half of my brain is preoccupied with Ryder and reliving every moment we spent together. The other half is worried about what might happen with Smith. He didn’t seem to heed my advice. I will have to do something more to get rid of him, and I have no idea what that might be or to what lengths he might go to ruin my reputation.

Do I even care?

I head into my attached bathroom, brush my teeth, release my hair from the braid, and comb it out. After tucking it into a loose bun, I climb into the shower. I don’t have the energy to wash and dry my hair tonight. My entire body is drained of energy.

I take a quick shower, put on clean panties and a tank top, and climb under the covers. I can hardly lift my arms as I grab my phone from the nightstand to check the time.

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