Page 1 of Ryder
Chapter 1
Dana
The predawn quiet of Hearts & Grinds is my favorite time of day. Just me, my recipes, and the gentle hum of the industrial mixer—no expectations, no disappointments, no family voices in my head telling me I’m throwing my life away.
I check the clock: 5:15 AM. Ryder will be here in exactly forty-five minutes, right after his morning workout. Not that I have his schedule memorized or anything. And I definitely haven’t timed my cinnamon roll batches to be coming out of the oven just as he walks through the door, filling the café with that irresistible fresh-baked smell that makes his eyes light up every single time.
“You’re humming again, Miss Lewis,” Elise, the owner, calls from the front, where she’s setting up the coffee station. “Let me guess—thinking about our best customer?”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. “I’m thinking about proper gluten development, thank you very much.” The dough under my hands is almost ready—soft, elastic, perfect. Like everything else in my kitchen, I can control this. Unlike the way my stomach does little flips every time Ryder walks in.
“Mhmm.” Elise’s knowing smile is audible. “That’s why you’re making his favorite cinnamon rolls. Again.”
“They’re everyone’s favorite,” I protest, though it sounds weak even to my own ears. “Besides, shouldn’t you be focusing on your own love life instead of mine? How’s that gorgeous husband of yours?”
“Rhett’s perfect, as always. And don’t change the subject. You know Ryder’s been single for months now. That disaster with the yoga instructor was his last attempt at dating.”
I try not to think about that—or any of his other dates. The parade of women who seem to match his easy charm and confident swagger so much better than a flour-covered baker who’s disappointed her entire family.
“Elise.” I give her my sternest look as I start rolling out the dough. “He is a customer. A good customer, sure, but that’s all. He flirts with everyone—it’s just who he is.”
The bell over the door chimes and both our heads snap up, but it’s just my friendcoming in for her morning coffee before heading to her gallery. I tell myself I’m not disappointed.
“Who flirts with everyone?” Elenaasks, blowing steam off the mug of coffee she served herself. “Are we talking about Ryder again?” Elena and her best friend Rachel were the first people I met when I moved here, and I’m lucky to call both of them close friends. Most of the time.
“No,” I say at the exact same moment Elise says, “Yes.”
I scatter brown sugar and cinnamon over the rolled dough with maybe a little more force than necessary. “Don’t you have coffee to brew or something Elise?”
“Someone’s touchy this morning,” Elenasings out. “Could it be because a certain tall, dark, and handsome rancher will be here soon?”
I focus on rolling the dough into a tight spiral, refusing to acknowledge the way my pulse picks up at just the thought of him. Of that crooked smile he seems to save just for me. Of theway his voice gets all warm and rough when he says, “Morning, sugar,” like I’m something sweet enough to taste.
The timer on the first batch of rolls dings, saving me from my own thoughts. As I pull them from the oven, the bell chimes again.
And there he is.
Ryder fills the doorway like he always does, all broad shoulders and faded jeans and that hint of stubble that makes my fingers itch to touch. His dark hair is still damp from his shower, and when his eyes meet mine, that slow smile spreads across his face.
“Morning, sugar. Something smells amazing.”
My heart does a little skip-jump that has nothing to do with baking.
Just another morning at Hearts & Grinds. Just another day of pretending I’m not falling hard for a man who doesn’t do serious relationships.
What could possibly go wrong?
“Just testing a new recipe,” I lie, sliding the pan onto the cooling rack. As if I haven’t perfected these cinnamon rolls months ago, specifically because of the way his eyes rolled back in pleasure the first time he tasted them.
“Guess I’ll have to volunteer as taste-tester. Purely as a public service, of course.” He leans against the counter, close enough that I catch the clean scent of his soap mixed with leather and something uniquely Ryder.
“Of course,” I manage, proud that my voice stays steady. “Nothing at all to do with your sweet tooth.”
“Hey now, a man’s got to maintain his strength.” He pats his flat stomach, and I definitely don’t imagine running my hands over those abs. “Speaking of which, I’m moving fence posts all day. I’m gonna need extra fuel.”
His sister Rachel snorts from behind as she follows him in. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
Ryder shoots his sister a look that would be more effective if he weren’t fighting a grin. “Shouldn’t you be at home with that husband of yours instead of giving me grief?”
