Page 16 of Ryder
Definitely worth it.
The ranch is quiet in the deepening twilight, stars just beginning to pierce the purple Montana sky. I change three times before settling on a simple sundress—trying not to think too hard about why I care what I wear to walk fifty yards to Ryder’s house.
The memory of his kiss still burns on my lips. The way his hands felt, the sound he made when…
The porch steps creak under my feet, interrupting that dangerous train of thought.
“Sugar?” Ryder’s voice carries from inside. “That you?”
“No, it’s a burglar who conveniently called ahead about bringing dessert.” I step into his living room, holding up a container of cookies. “A very considerate burglar.”
His laugh is low and warm as he emerges from the kitchen. He’s showered, his dark hair still damp, wearing a black t-shirt that does unfair things to his shoulders.
“Cookies and sass. Must be my lucky night.”
“That depends.” I set the cookies on his coffee table, hyper-aware of his presence behind me. “On whether you actually have dinner planned or if this was just an excuse to get me alone.”
His hands settle on my hips, turning me to face him. “Can’t it be both?”
Before I can form a witty response, his mouth is on mine. All thoughts of dinner evaporate as he walks me backward until my legs hit the couch. He tastes like coffee and desire, and I can’t get enough.
“Been thinking about this all day,” he murmurs against my lips. “About you. About that little sound you made in the kitchen...”
As if on cue, I gasp as his teeth graze my neck. His answering growl vibrates through my whole body.
“Like that.” His hands slide up my sides, leaving trails of fire. “Exactly like that.”
I pull him closer, arching as his mouth finds that spot behind my ear. Everything is heat and need and the perfect weight of him pressing me into the cushions.
Then his phone rings.
“Don’t answer it,” I breathe, running my nails down his back.
“Wasn’t planning to.” But then he glances at the screen and curses. “It’s Rachel. If I don’t answer, she’ll just show up.”
I flop back against the couch with a frustrated groan as he answers.
“This better be important.” His voice is deliciously rough. “What? No, I... slow down. What do you meanElena’s planning what?”
I sit up, suddenly alert. The bake-off. Right. The whole reason I’m supposed to be here.
“Yeah, she’s here.” He runs a hand through his hair. “We were just discussing... plans.”
I bite back a laugh at his expression.
“Fine. Yes. I’ll tell her.” He hangs up, looking torn between amusement and frustration. “So apparently my sister and your friend have decided to turn this bake-off into a whole thing. Live music, food trucks, the works.”
“That sounds...” Amazing. Terrifying. A real chance to prove myself. “Big.”
Something in my tone makes him look at me more closely. “Hey.” He sits beside me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “You okay?”
“Of course.” But I can’t quite meet his eyes. “It’s just... a lot of pressure. If I mess up in front of the whole town...”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Actually, I do.” His voice is warm with certainty. “Because I’ve seen how amazing you are. How passionate. Hell, you made my terrible kitchen put out professional-quality cookies.”
