Page 10 of Rip Ryder's Second Chance

And she’s probably married,he reminded himself.

“Rip? What in blue heavens are you doing here?” she asked as if no time had transpired between them. The gentle pitch of her sweet voice reminded him of summer days down at the lake where they’d explored each other.

Hurt rendered him silent.

He opened his mouth, searching for his voice that was lost.

He probably looked damn ridiculous standing on her front step staring.

His throat ached. His heart squeezed. She shifted the child onto the other hip, closest to the screen as if to place a wall between them.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call first. I have some news.” He finally managed to spit out.

With hesitation, she finally opened the door and stepped back. “Come in.”

***

At first, Noelle thought she must be dreaming and if she blinked Rip would disappear. He was there, in her house, looking about as awkward as she felt.

Dizziness and excitement rolled through her as she tried not to stare. He stood in her foyer, all six-foot something inches of him. Her skin tingled like he’d brushed against her. How could he still affect her in such a way that left her breathless and warm all at the same time?

Once he stepped to the center of the small space, she inhaled sharply. Big mistake. She drew in his scent, a delightful combination of leather and sandalwood. A reminder of days spent with him outdoors.

A sound close to a moan slipped off her tongue and she quickly followed with a clearing of her throat to play it off.

Tucking her free hand inside her front pocket to curb the craving to hug him as if they didn’t have fifteen years looming between them, she took a step back. She longed to touch him, run her fingers through his hair hidden under a white Stetson and absorb the heat and stability from him. She’d never forget how safe and accepted he’d made her feel.

She no longer had any right to touch him. Or want him, although telltale signs of lust grew between her legs, teasing her.

They stood there in silence. Neither saying a word. Time seemed to stand still.

He’d changed. He’d grown into a virile man with ridiculously broad shoulders, hard jaw with a dusting of whiskers, and a self-confidence that wasn’t this powerful when he was a teenager. Age had etched fine lines around his eyes that were narrowed on her in a suspicious curiosity. Yes, he’d definitely changed because there was no grin creasing his beautiful mouth. No warmth undulated from him. His aura reflected power, strength, and distance.

A hug would have been awkward.

He wore a pretty blue plaid long sleeved shirt that brought out the color of his eyes. His jeans were frayed and faded in all the right places, but fit him in a way that informed her he still had muscular legs. He swiped off his hat and her breath caught. His once jet-black hair now had streaks of silver and the furled ends curled at his collar.

One corner of his mouth curved, not quite a smile and not quite a frown. Something in between that showed off the even row of white teeth. She remembered how those lips had kissed her with unbridled passion. How he’d tasted every part of her on those sultry summer nights. He’d been inexperienced and somewhat sheepish, but something told her he was no longer shy or innocently immature.

She sensed that this older Rip knew how to please a woman. Could make her feel like she was the only woman in the world.

“I should have called first,” he said in a throaty voice that belied his sureness.

“No…yes…well, you’re here now. I would have liked to at least been able to change my stained shirt and brushed my hair. I’ve been deep cleaning today.”

Ollie plucked at her hair, grabbing a handful in his clutches. She had to untangle the strands from his chubby fingers.

“You look good,” Rip said. “He’s yours. I can see the resemblance.”

Emotion fluttered like a butterfly’s wings inside her belly. “His name is Oliver. Ollie for short,” she said evenly although inside her raw nerves were swirling like a tornado.

“Oliver Rip. Yeah, I heard.”

Something flashed over his expression. Pain? Anger? A mixture of both perhaps? Then she became fully aware that she’d possibly crossed a line by naming her son after him. It had only seemed natural that she’d name him after the one man she had such fond memories of.

Maybe Rip carried over animosity for her because of the way she’d ended things. After ignoring his multiple attempts to contact her, she’d made a simple call telling him in vague terms that she was moving on. He hadn’t tried to argue or contact her after. He’d respected her wishes. She hadn’t expected anything less from Rip who’d always been a gentleman, even before he was a man.

He rubbed his jaw and his shoulders dipped some. “Cute kid. Just like his mom.”

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