Page 27 of Ryder
“Besides,” Ryder continues, “it’s not like we’re picking out china patterns. We’re having fun. No need to complicate things.”
The dish towel slips from my numb fingers. Fun. That’s all this is to him? Just fun?
Before I can process that gut punch, my phone buzzes. An email from the Food Network’s baking competition show—the one I applied to months ago, before the flood, before Ryder, before everything changed.
They want me to come to New York. For an audition. Next week.
I stare at the phone, then look toward the porch where Ryder is still talking about keeping things casual.
Maybe it’s time to remember why I chose this path in the first place. Not for love. Not for a man who sees me as uncomplicated fun.
For my dreams. My future. My chance to prove I belong in this world. With shaking fingers, I type my response:
I’ll be there.
The slam of the main house’s screen door jolts me from my thoughts. Ryder’s boots crunch on the gravel path, heading this way. Coming to check on me like he has all day, probably planning to pull me into his arms, kiss me senseless, make me forget everything except how good we are together.
But his words echo in my head:Just having fun. No need to complicate things.
I quickly wipe my eyes, grateful I haven’t started crying yet. I pull up the recipe I’ve been working on. Casual. Uncomplicated. I can do that.
“Sugar?” His voice is warm honey in the doorway. “Something smells amazing.”
“Just testing competition recipes.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel.
His arms slide around my waist from behind, lips finding that spot on my neck that usually makes me melt. But now it just hurts, knowing this is all it means to him.
“Missed you,” he murmurs against my skin. “Been thinking about you all day.”
Just fun,his voice echoes in my head.Nothing complicated.
“I have news,” I say, stepping out of his embrace. The hurt look on his face almost breaks my resolve. Almost.
“Yeah?” He leans against the counter, trying to catch my eye. “Good news?”
“Remember that baking show I applied to? Before...” I gesture vaguely. Before you. Before us. Before I let myself hope for something more.
“The Food Network one?” His brow furrows. “In New York?”
“They want me to audition. Next week.”
Something flickers across his face. Fear? Loss? But his easy smile slides back into place too quickly for me to be sure.
“That’s... great,” he says, but his voice is tight. “How long would you be gone?”
“Just a few days.” Unless I make it on the show, I don’t add. Unless they offer me something more permanent.
“Well.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Guess we’ll have to make the most of this week then.”
The casual way he says it, like I’m just another fun diversion with an expiration date, makes something crack in my chest.
“Guess so.” I turn back to my baking, not trusting my face. “I should finish these test batches.”
“Dana...” His hand touches my shoulder, gentle in a way that hurts worse than indifference. “You okay?”
No. I’m not okay. I’m falling in love with someone who sees me as uncomplicated fun. Who can kiss me like I mean everything while telling his best friend I mean nothing.
“I’m fine.” I force a smile. “Just focused on work. You know how I get with recipes.”
