Page 5 of Ryder

At the time of Amos Wilde’s death, the estate had only two employees—Gretchen and Andre, who manages the exterior and looks to be about seventy as well. I met him briefly earlier, too.

I’m betting some of the books in this library are originals. They need to be dusted and cataloged. There are thousands of leather-bound volumes. It’s impressive.

I turn at the sound of someone clearing their throat at the entrance to the library. It’s Gretchen. “Sorry to interrupt, sir, but you have a guest. Claire Kennett is here. Would you like me to show her in?”

Claire Kennett. I have no idea who that might be, but I’m secretly hoping it’s the girl from yesterday. I’d love to go toe-to-toe with her again. It seems unlikely, though. She probably didn’t take my invitation seriously.

Tiago looks at me.

I shrug. “Sure.” God, I hope she’s not another citizen here to grill us. Tiago and I have not had a chance to even begin to understand what the hell is going on in this town.

I stare at the entrance and suck in a breath when the girl I met late yesterday afternoon steps into the room. She’s exactly how I remember her—jeans, a different tank top from yesterday, long brown hair in a thick braid, and a fierce stance. I’m not at all sure it was a good idea to invite her here this morning, but my cock thinks it was. Damn, she calls to me. And damn, she’s young.

She’s twenty-two, I remind myself—hardly a kid. But I’ll just keep telling myself she’s way too young for me. It’s better if I have that constant reminder. Without it, I might decide to press her against the wall and put her smart mouth to a far different use than sparring with me.

Gretchen has disappeared.

I see Tiago glancing at me with curiosity in my peripheral vision. I’m not taking my gaze off Claire. I like the name. It suits her.

She holds up a box that looks like it came from a bakery. “I brought pastries. Peace offering.” She offers me a smile before glancing at my brother.

I set my hands on my hips and hold her gaze. “Did you spit on them?” I don’t know why I feel the need to goad her, but I can’t help it. I like keeping her on her toes.

She sighs. “No.”

Tiago’s breath hitches. He’s shocked by my behavior. So am I.

“Did you make them?” I challenge. I’m being such an ass, but I can’t help myself. Plus, it’s better if she doesn’t like me. Better for my cock.

“Yes. Not alone, but yes.”

“Did your mommy help?” Oh, yeah, I’m an asshole.

She draws in a slow breath, seemingly trying to control her reaction. “Okay, maybe I deserve your mistrust, but could you possibly treat me like an adult?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

Gretchen bustles back to the doorway. “Would you like to have tea or coffee in the kitchen?” she asks, looking between me and Tiago.

“Uhhh.” Tiago glances at me. “I need to make a few calls, actually. I’ll let Ryder handle this one.” My brother throws me under the bus before clasping my shoulder and darting from the room with barely a nod toward Claire.

Great.

I respond to Gretchen, “Coffee would be great. Thank you.” I wave a hand toward the hallway, hoping Gretchen will lead the way, especially since I hardly know which direction to turn to find the kitchen.

Claire matches my pace next to me, even though she has to take nearly two steps for every one of mine, and I do nothing to adjust my speed because, obviously, I’m incapable of being anything but a dick toward this girl.Woman.

Like yesterday, I’m way too close to her again. Like yesterday, she smells sweet as though…I mentally slap my forehead. “Do you own the bakery in town?”

“My family does, yes.”

That explains the pastries and the fact that she did not make them alone.

When we arrive at the kitchen, Gretchen takes the box from Claire and sets it on the table. She’s being a far better hostess than me. “Would you like coffee or tea, dear?”

I slide into a seat at the head of the table without pulling out a chair for Claire. I really am honing my dick-moves with this woman. I’ve never been so thoughtless in my life. I’m not ordinarily such an ass, which is making me beyond aware of my faux pas as she pulls out her own chair next to me. “Coffee is fine. Thank you, Gretchen.”

“Do you two know each other?” I ask as Claire sits, spine rigid, hands in her lap. She’s nervous but determined not to let me see it.

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