Page 9 of Rip Ryder's Second Chance

This was her house.

A stone one story with matching shutters and flower boxes adorning the windows. A large detached garage sat away from the house. A For Sale sign stood in the yard.

Killing the engine, he waited.

For what? He wasn’t quite sure, but he needed a moment to prepare himself.

He closed his fingers around the steering wheel and concentrated on filling his lungs with oxygen. He hadn’t been this nervous since he picked her up for her eighteenth birthday. She’d hinted around to him for a week prior that she wanted to take things to the next level and he’d been consumed with that idea. Even now, all these years later, he felt a rise below his belt. Those next three months had been the best a teen boy could ask for.

Get a grip, Rip.

He wasn’t a hormonal teen any longer who was crushing on the prettiest girl in school.

Unlatching his seatbelt, he grabbed the letter off the seat, and slid out of the truck. He headed up the sidewalk with determined steps. He could do this.

On the front step, he lifted his fist to knock, but paused. He heard a babbling noise.A baby?

Then he heard a tiny voice mutter, “Hi.”

Bending slightly, Rip peered through the screen and his heart skipped a beat. He’d been right. A kid—more accurately a toddler—stood on the other side of the door, hands pressed against the mesh and wearing a big smile. Drool moistened his bottom lip.

“Hi,” Rip said. He stood there staring, a jolting realization ceasing his body. The kid had the bluest eyes Rip had ever seen…second to Noelle’s. This was her child. No doubt.

Rip straightened, feeling like he’d made a big mistake by coming. She had a kid. Probably was married too. Why hadn’t that thought even crossed his mind? There were a lot of things Rip could handle but meeting her husband and child hadn’t been part of his plan.

He took a backward step.

The toddler yelled, “Hi!” in a louder, excited tone.

“Shh.” Rip pressed his finger against his own lips.

The boy laughed as if he thought Rip was playing.

“Ollie? What are you doing?” The soft, melodic sound of Noelle’s voice drifted through the screen, gluing Rip’s boots to the cement.

“Now you’ve done it, kid.” Rip shook his head.

Whether he was ready or not, things were about to go down. He could hear faint rustling sounds and then she stepped into his view. He caught a flash of cherry brown hair which still hung below her shoulders, but she now had fringed bangs that framed her youthful face.

Why had he come?

Why didn’t Derry talk him out of it?

Because Rip had been resolute to tell her the news himself.

“There you are, Oliver Rip. You’re supposed to be eating.” She ruffled his thick hair, bent to lift the boy in her arms and hauled him onto one hip. She turned slightly and the second she saw Rip he knew because her eyes widened and her stunned expression fixed on her face.

Time became a cage, imprisoning both in the awkward moment as they stared at each other through the screen.

For that moment he could still see her as a teenager, greeting him at the door with a smile that got him in the center of his bones.

Their gazes were locked.

Rip feasted his eyes on the only woman he’d ever loved. The only one he’d wanted to marry and have a kid with. She was even more beautiful than he remembered and he wished she wasn’t. Her hair that he thought looked the same didn’t at all. It was still dark brown but now had lighter streaks of caramel and a few faint strips of blonde. Not one line appeared on her face that proved fifteen years had passed. She had flawless skin. Her blue eyes—the color of the early morning sky—turned a shade darker.

She wore a white T-shirt and cutoff jean shorts, and she was barefoot. Her toenails were painted a bright purple. Her favorite color, at least as a teen. He couldn’t believe he remembered. He also remembered her smell. A mixture of cotton candy and vanilla that now floated through the mesh wire and warmed him from inside out. He practically salivated like the kid.

Her figure, once slender and athletic because she ran cross country, had blossomed into more curves than should be legal. Delicious, remarkable curves that made him practically moan. He felt a bit ridiculous considering she was a holding a child—her child.

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