Page 7 of Ryder: Shadows and Desires
We lost so much.
Placing the cake on the counter, I eye the subway backsplash, distracting myself from melancholy reflections. “Well, that’s good for us that he comes in decent shape.”
The clicking stops, and my breathing hitches when Ryder begins ascending the stairs.Game face on, Stevens. Jeremy is watching from somewhere. Do good for him.
When Ryder appears in the basement doorway, the music still beats with enthusiasm behind him. His shirtless chest shines with sweat, his panting parting those broad lips. He looks at me with those distant eyes of his before he opens the stainless-steel fridge to grab some water.
It takes everything I have not to drink in the image of his muscled back, heat engulfing my body when he turns around. Where he had kept to himself after I ran into him, the fighter unabashedly looks me up and down, leaning on the countertop.
He’s impossible to read, although judgement unmistakably stains his gaze.
“Alright, let’s try this introduction again. Ryder, this is Julie Stevens,” Andrew says. “She’s Jeremy’s sister and your sports therapist now. She’s here to sign some papers to join our team.”
Ryder nods, every bit of his muscled stomach moving to keep up with his breathing. His traps explode from his shoulders as he slumps and rolls his body in a stretch.
His pale blue eyes stand out against his blood-filled cheeks. “So... you have any experience? I was honestly expecting some old man in his fifties.”
My lips partake in an awkward dance of incredulity. Andrew rolls his eyes and scowls at Ryder.
My disappointing quip is as flat as my heart-line. “Yeah, clearly I do or I wouldn’t be here.”
“I’m just asking,” he asserts, moving his arm up and down in my direction, as if to point out something obvious. “I’m going for fucking Warlord. I need the best hands on this shitty shoulder of mine.”
The wheels of my mind finally lay down some rubber, my gears shifting from wearing sex goggles to viewing him as one of the crass gym “bros.”
“Oh, I see,” I grind out, straddling the line of knowing the gym needs this man, but I also have to establish that I’mnotintimidated. “I might not have a pair of balls, but Idohave a pair of tits. Don’t see how either will help me, though. I have a brain that functions, if that counts for anything.”
He raiseshisbrows in return. “Look, no offense. I just can’t afford to lose.”
His tone does nothing to insinuate that he actually cares if I take offense or not.
“Listen, I don’t want to have a lot of debates on my qualifications but just so we’re clear, I have my master’s in Sports Therapy and a Sports Conditioning Specialist certificate. I’m not in my fifties, but I’ve got a deep history with sports, and my brother was an amateur MMA fighter. I’m not new to the ring.”
Andrew pinches the bridge of his nose before addressing Ryder. “Also, you really think I’d just put some random chick on you that only knows how to rub your feet? She’s a trained professional.”
I cock a brow, purse my lips, and place a hand on a hip as I shift my weight to one side. I can’t believe I am on the same team as Andrew, but here we are.
“Alright, whatever you say.” Ryder’s gaze hits the cake container. “Is that angel food cake?”
“It is,” I huff, a very clear bite in my voice.
“I love the shit out of that.”
Of course, you do.
None of this had gone how I thought it would—from the coffee now to this. Still, I feel like I have to prove myself to him. To rub it in his face that I’m good at what I do. Maybe even coax a compliment from those annoyingly perfect lips, just to rub it in all the more.
I can’t believe he thinks I’m incompetent.
Andrew steps in. “Go and burn two hundred more calories, then you can have some.”
Ryder throws the empty water bottle into the recycling. “Will do, man.” His resolute gaze spears mine—his eyes impossible to read—before descending downstairs.
Like a mantra, I remind myself that I can’t afford to start off on the wrong foot with Ryder, even if he’s as prickly as a thorn bush. The sound of jump rope smacking the floor echoes once again.
I spin around and take my frustration out on Andrew. Quietly, but sternly, holding my hand up and pointing with my thumb at the basement, I say, “Fair warning. I don’t care who he is. I’ll treat him like the rest of the dudes at the gym. My job is to keep their bodies flexible and strong, not deal with their attitude. I want to keep it professional with him, but I will bite back if he’s like that.”
Andrew, of course, is hardly concerned. “He’s not that terrible once you get to know him. You just have to climb a high wall before you get to meet the real guy behind it. Although, it takes a lot of fucking hits to crack him. I’m still working on it myself.”
