Page 6 of Ryder
“Elise said it’s behind the storage shelves.” I point, trying to focus on the crisis at hand instead of how his wet T-shirt clings to every muscle. “But I can’t reach it without moving everything, and there’s all the festival prep ingredients up there, and—”
“Breathe, sugar.” His hand lands warm on my shoulder, steady and grounding. “We’ll figure it out.”
The gentle squeeze of his fingers sends tingles down my spine, and I fight the urge to lean into his touch. This isn’t the time to get distracted by how safe he makes me feel, or how his voice gets all soft and warm when he calls me sugar.
A loud crack from above makes us both jump.
“That’s it.” Ryder’s hand slides down to the small of my back, guiding me toward the stairs. “You’re not staying down here. It’s not safe.”
“But the ingredients—”
“Can be replaced.” The steel in his voice brooks no argument. “You can’t.”
More creaking overhead punctuates his point. Water continues to pour from the broken pipe, the sound mixing with the hum of the industrial freezer and the distant drip of other leaks I really don’t want to think about.
The morning sun streaming through the bakery windows feels surreal after the basement’s darkness. Half-eaten pastries sit abandoned on tables where customers fled the flood. The maple-brown surface of my beloved hardwood floors is already starting to buckle in places.
My throat tightens. I’ve put everything I have into my time here. Every early morning, every burned batch, every recipe perfected... this is my home. My choice. My proof that walking away from my family’s expectations was worth it. Elise and everyone else welcomed me with open arms.
“Hey.” Ryder’s thumb brushes my cheek, and I realize I’m crying. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Is it?” I gesture at the mess, hating how my voice cracks. “The festival’s in three weeks. We have orders to fill. I can’t just—”
The bell over the door chimes as Jake bursts in, tool belt already strapped on. “Plumber’s on his way. Elena’s calling Rachel. How bad?”
“Basement’s flooding, floor’s compromised.” Ryder hasn’t moved his hand from my back, and I try not to lean into the warmth. “We need to clear out anything valuable before the whole thing goes.”
Jake nods, already moving toward the kitchen. “On it. Dana, what needs saving first?”
The question snaps me back into action. With Elise trusting me to run this place while she’s gone, it’s my responsibility. I can fall apart later.
“Freezer contents.” I switch into crisis mode, mentally cataloging priorities. “Then the specialty flours in the pantry. The mixer’s on wheels, we can roll it out. And there’s a box of vanilla beans from Thailand that cost more than my car.”
“The ones Ryder special ordered?” Jake’s innocent tone doesn’t match his smirk.
“What?” I turn to Ryder, but he’s suddenly very interested in examining the water damage.
“Focus, people.” Elena appears in the doorway, phone in hand. “Rachel’s on her way. Garrett’s bringing the truck. And...” she gives me an apologetic look, “the plumber can’t come until tomorrow.”
The implications hit me like a wave. No plumber means no quick fix. No quick fix means no baking. No baking means…
“You can’t stay here tonight,” Ryder says, as if reading my thoughts. “The whole floor could go.”
“I’ll be fine. The apartment—”
“Is right above a flooding basement with compromised support beams.” His jaw has that stubborn set I recognize from when he’s protecting Rachel. “Not happening.”
“He’s right,” Jake cuts in, emerging from the kitchen with an armload of supplies. “Besides, you’re going to need somewhere to bake all these orders. Somewhere with a proper kitchen, plenty of counter space...”
“Like the guest house at Ryder’s ranch,” Elena adds innocently. “The one with the professional-grade appliances Rachel told me he installed recently.”
My heart stumbles. Stay at Ryder’s place? With his crooked smile and his terrible jokes and his tendency to make me forget all the reasons I shouldn’t want him?
“That’s...” Absolutely terrifying. Completely inappropriate. Exactly what I’ve been dreaming about for months. “I couldn’t impose.”
“It’s not imposing if I’m offering.” Ryder’s voice is gruff, but his eyes are soft when they meet mine. “Come on, sugar. Let me help.”
Another crack echoes from below, followed by an ominous rushing sound. The decision is pretty much made for me.
