Page 32 of Ryder

“Can I make you a breakfast sandwich? Anything you don’t like?”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you. I’m not picky.”

“Claire ran upstairs when she saw you pull up,” he tells me with a wink. “I assume she’s primping.”

I chuckle. This is surreal. Roy is being so direct with me.

Joyce opens the door and leans into the kitchen. “Did you offer him breakfast?”

“Yes, dear. Working on it now,” Roy responds with a loving smile.

“Oh, good.” Joyce returns to the front.

Roy bustles around at the grill, cracking eggs and flipping bacon. He opens a croissant and toasts it against the grill.

A door on the other side of the room opens, and Claire rushes in, winded. “Oh, hi. You’re here.” She tries to sound nonchalant as though she had no idea I arrived. I don’t call her out on it because she’s adorable, and I’m speechless as I look at her. Her hair is down in long waves, draping over both shoulders. She’s wearing slightly more makeup than yesterday. Mascara and lip gloss, at least. Her jeans hug her body deliciously, and she has on another tank top like the one she wore yesterday. This one is red.

The only thing out of place is the cardigan she’s wearing on top of her tank top. It’s fucking hot out today and even hotter here in the kitchen. Why the hell is she wearing a sweater?

I stand and hold out a hand. When she sets hers in mine, I pull her close and give her a brief kiss. I told her I would. I’m confident her father isn’t going to have a fit. I missed the hell out of her. I’m not going to hold back my affection and pretend what we have is casual. She might not fully believe me, but I want her parents to know I’m serious.

She’s even more flustered when I release her lips. I keep a hand on the small of her back as I pull out a chair and then push her up to the table when she sits.

I catch her father’s expression in my peripheral vision. He’s grinning.There is a God.

I lean down and whisper in her ear, “You cold, baby?”

She shrugs. “I’m fine,” she murmurs.

As I resume sitting, I eye her speculatively. She doesn’t meet my gaze. In fact, she fidgets with the salt and pepper on the table as though they need straightening. Something’s up with her, and it has nothing to do with her parents.

Her mother returns. “Goodness, where are my manners? Can I make you a coffee, Ryder?”

“That would be lovely, Joyce. Thank you. Black is fine.”

Joyce nods and returns to the front.

Roy sets a plate in front of me. On it is the most delicious-looking breakfast sandwich, and it’s still steaming.

“Thank you. That looks amazing.”

Claire sits taller and looks at me, finally. “My father makes a mean sandwich.”

I lift it and take a bite, moaning around the flavor.

Roy sits in the open chair. “Claire told us a bit about the will and what your plans for the town might be.”

I nod as I swallow my bite. “Yes. I think it’s best if my brother and I meet with the town and hear everyone’s concerns. It seems as though some things need to be dealt with immediately. Tiago and I want to know what those are and address them.”

“Is it true that there are funds available that are separate from your inheritance?”

“Yes. I don’t have a grasp on how much, but I get the feeling that it is more than enough. Are there some older folks around who might be able to make sense of what happened with my grandfather and when?”

Roy chuckles. “Plenty, and I’m sure they have stories to tell.”

“That might help.”

Roy leans his elbows on the table. “Don’tyourparents know more than anyone, Ryder?”

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