Page 8 of Ryder
Chapter 4
Ryder
Leaving Dana alone in the guest house is harder than it should be. Every protective instinct I have wants to stay close, to make sure she’s really okay after the day’s chaos. But hovering like some lovesick teenager won’t help anything.
“She’s fine,” Rachel says through the phone, reading my mind like always. “Stop worrying.”
I walk further into the darkness of the ranch yard, trying to put some distance between myself and the warm light spilling from the guest house windows. Distance from the sight of Dana moving around my kitchen like she belongs there.
“I’m not worried.” Even I don’t believe that one. “Just making sure everything’s settled.”
“Right.” Rachel’s eye roll is audible. “That’s why you spent three hours helping her unpack two boxes.”
“It was not three hours.” It’s been two and a half, max. Most of that spent watching Dana organize the kitchen with that adorable furrow between her brows, muttering about mise en place and proper tool alignment. “And she needed help.”
“Mhmm. Like she needs help every morning when you stop by the bakery?”
“That’s different.” I scrub a hand over my face, grateful for the evening shadows hiding my expression. “I’m a paying customer.”
“You’re a lovesick fool is what you are.” But Rachel’s voice softens. “She likes you too, you know. A lot.”
My chest does something complicated at those words. “You don’t know that.”
“Actually, I do. I see how she lights up every time she sees you. How she always has your favorites ready in the morning. How she-”
“Rachel.” I cut her off, not ready to hear more. Not ready to hope. “It’s not that simple.”
“Only because you’re making it complicated.” She sighs. “Look, I know Sarah messed you up. But Dana’s different.”
The name hits like a punch to the gut, even after all this time. Sarah, who promised forever then disappeared without a word. Sarah, who taught me exactly how dangerous hope can be.
But Rachel is right—Dana is different. Dana is real in a way Sarah never was. The way she pours her heart into every recipe, how she remembers everyone’s favorites, that little smile she gets when something comes out perfectly…
A light flicks on in the guest house kitchen. Through the window, I see Dana at the counter, hair loose around her shoulders as she pages through her recipe book. The sight makes my hands itch to touch, to run my fingers through that midnight silk, to finally learn if she tastes as sweet as her baking.
“Just think about it,” Rachel says softly. “She’s not going anywhere, but she won’t wait forever either.”
After we hang up, I stand in the dark for a long moment, watching Dana work. She already has flour on her cheek—how did she even find flour that fast?—and her expression is pure concentration as she makes notes in her book.
Before I can overthink it, my feet carry me back to the guest house. I knock lightly on the door frame.
“Everything okay in here?”
She looks up, and damn if that smile doesn’t hit me right in the chest. “Just planning. I might have borrowed some flour to test your oven’s hot spots.”
“At nine PM?”
“Baking waits for no man.” But there’s something uncertain in her eyes. “Is that okay? I know it’s late, but I couldn’t sleep without at least checking the temperature regulation, and—”
“Sugar.” The endearment slips out before I can stop it. “This kitchen is yours for as long as you need it. Test whatever you want.”
Her smile goes soft around the edges. “Thanks, Ryder. For everything.”
The way she says my name makes me want to do ridiculous things. Like cross the kitchen and pull her close. Like find out if that spot behind her ear is as sensitive as I’ve imagined. Like finally admit how much she means to me.
Instead, I shove my hands in my pockets. “Need any help?”
“You want to help me test oven temperatures?” She raises an eyebrow. “At nine PM?”
