by Katie Lane
Ryker’s eyes softened. “So you’re their safety net.”
“Don’t look at me with those big puppy dog eyes of yours. It’s not a big deal. Except that the one big idea I had to make money has failed miserably. And my idea to save it, no one believes in.”
“I believe in it.”
Summer stared at him. “You read my business plan? You think it’s good?”
Ryker nodded. “It’s more than good. It’s obvious that you did your due diligence.” He paused. “The only thing it’s lacking is enthusiasm.”
She stopped swinging. “What do you mean?”
“While your business plan is sound, you were just quoting numbers and facts. You didn’t talk about fashion or what it meant to you to be able to help people dress in clothes that made them feel successful, comfortable, or just happy. It sounded like you were only interested in the bottom line.”
“But isn’t that what most businesses are interested in?”
“Yes, but that’s not why most businesses succeed. They succeed because their owners are passionate about the product or service they’re providing. Phil Knight, who started Nike, was passionate about running and wanted to give people the right shoes to run in. Your brother was passionate about hooking people up with jobs they loved. Are you passionate about clothing, Summer?”
It was the same question Dirk had asked her. And she was getting pretty sick of it. “What about you? You mentioned Dirk wanting to hook people up with the right job. But you never said a word about you. Are you passionate about Headhunters as well? Or did you just ride on my brother’s coattails?” She expected him to deny it and was shocked when he didn’t.
“You’re right. For the last year, I’ve been trying to convince myself that I’m passionate about my job. I’ve been working long hours to prove to myself, and all my employees, that I didn’t ride on your brother’s coattails. But the truth is that I did. Headhunters is all Dirk’s. It’s always been his. It was his passion that made the company. Now that he’s gone, there’s no passion left. It’s a struggle to go into work every day, and I have to wonder if my employees feel the same way.”
She was stunned by his confession and didn’t know what to say. She had viewed him as this savvy businessman who had built this prosperous company and was now reaping the rewards. She knew he worked hard, but she thought he did it because he liked to. She didn’t think he hated his job. Knowing that he did left her feeling completely disheartened and deflated. She’d thought that once she was successful, she would be happy. It was depressing to think that she might still be miserable.
Sherlock had moved over next to Ryker’s chair, and he reached down and scratched the dog’s ears. There was something about the image of Ryker loving on Sherlock that plucked at her heartstrings. “I didn’t mean to rain on your parade,” he said. “I just think you should make sure this is what you really want.”
Dirk had mentioned the same thing to her, but it was hard to take advice from your younger siblings. It was much easier to listen to someone who wasn’t part of your family. What if Seasons wasn’t what she wanted? What if she’d made a mistake? That would mean that she’d just wasted two years of her life. And worse, two years of her sisters’ lives. She couldn’t live with that. She just couldn’t.
She picked up Watson and stood. “It’s what I want. Now come into the kitchen while I make the spaghetti and tell me what you think my next steps should be.”
Ryker might like her business plan, but he seemed hesitant to give her any direction on where to go from here. However, he wasn’t tentative when it came to helping her with dinner. He handled a knife as well as a Chopped contestant, and when Summer couldn’t find any salad dressing in the refrigerator, he whipped up an amazing lemon vinaigrette.
She licked the spoon he’d given her to sample. “Who taught you how to make homemade dressing?”
“My mother. She homeschooled me and cooking was one of my electives.”
“She didn’t have to work?”
“Not until I was in high school and started public school. My dad never showed up, but his monthly child-support checks always did.”
Summer added the pasta to the boiling water. “At least he gave you money. My dad only showed up to borrow it. And your father seems like he wants to have a relationship with you now.”
“It’s bullshit. He’ll be gone soon enough . . . if he hasn’t left already.”
She glanced over in time to catch the look on Ryker’s face. It wasn’t the look of someone who was happy his father was gone. He looked sad and confused about why he was. Summer understood those conflicting emotions. She still longed for her father to be something he wasn’t.
“Maybe Cord hasn’t left,” she said nonchalantly. “He sounded pretty determined to stay and get you to give him a chance when he was fixing my faucet.”
The knife Ryker was using clattered to the cutting board as he turned to her. “My dad was here? What did he want?”
“Don’t go postal on me. He just thought we were boyfriend and girlfriend and wanted me to put in a good word for him.” She went back to stirring the marinara sauce. “And while I was setting him straight, he fixed my faucet.”
“If you needed your faucet fixed, you could’ve called me.”
She turned to him. “You know how to fix a faucet?”
A blush stained his cheeks. It was cute. Hell, he was cute. Something she kept trying to ignore. “No,” he said, “but I know how to Google.”
She laughed. “I can Google.” She set down her spoon and opened a cupboard to get the plates. “And what’s the big deal with your father fixing my faucet? Just because you hate him doesn’t mean I have to. In fact, I kind of like him.”
He picked up the knife and started chopping the romaine lettuce like an ax murderer in a horror flick. “Join the club. Whack! Every girl in high school seemed to have a crush on the great Cord Evans, who can wrangle a wild mustang.” Whack! “And fix a girl’s faucet.” Whack! “And figure out when his stupid son has run out of gas.” Whack!
“You ran out of gas?”
“It wasn’t my truck!” Whack!
Summer took the knife away from him. “Sorry, but tantrum-throwing little boys cannot have knives.” She handed him the plates. “Set the table.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m not throwing a tantrum.”
“I don’t know what you’d call it. Our salad looks like a victim of a crime scene.”
He glanced down and released his breath. “Okay, I was throwing a tantrum. It’s just frustrating when the father who was never a hero for you is such a hero to everyone else.”
It was a telling statement. As was the hurt in Ryker’s eyes. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t touch him again, but she couldn’t ignore his pain. She smoothed back the strands of hair that fell over his forehead. “He’s not my hero. He just fixed my faucet. You, on the other hand, saved my life.”
His intense gaze locked with her. Why did he have to have such soulful eyes? They did something to her insides every time she looked in them. “I’m sure someone else would’ve come along after the accident and found you,” he said.
“But would they have kept me from panicking when I couldn’t get out? Would they have given me my phone to distract me?”
“Are you saying I’m your hero?”
She ran her fingers along his close-cropped beard. “Not my hero, but definitely my savior.”
He covered her hand with his, and his eyes turned a shade darker. “I like the sound of that. But I’d like it even better if you weren’t pointing a deadly weapon at my throat.”
She glanced at the knife in her other hand, which was pointed straight at his neck. She laughed and stepped back. “I guess neither one of us should be trusted with knives.”
They ate their spaghetti and chopped salad at the kitchen table and talked above Sherlock’s whines for pasta noodles. It was surprising how comfortable they were with each other. Maybe it was because they had s
een each other naked. Or maybe it had more to do with sharing the trauma of the accident. Whatever the reason, they seemed to be able to talk about everything from religion and politics to desires and fears.
“I’m not kidding you,” he said as he rolled up the last bite of pasta on his fork. “I think Lucinda knows she scares me and is taking full advantage of her power.”
Summer laughed. “She’s a female Hadley. We all enjoy wielding our power over men.”
His face turned serious as he set down his fork. “And have you wielded your power over a lot of men?”
“A few. And I’m sure you’ve wielded those pretty brown eyes on your fair share of women.”
“I was such a geek from adolescence to nineteen, I didn’t have one girlfriend. I had a massive crush on Tara Jones in high school, but she broke my heart when the only reason she went out with me was because she wanted me to help her cheat on her physics test. But once your brother got ahold of me and taught me how to talk to women, I went a little crazy and made up for lost time.”
“I thought you said you didn’t have time for much of anything. And yet you find time to date.” She didn’t know why him dating a lot of women bothered her. She tried to hide her annoyance by getting up and taking her dishes to the sink.
He came up behind her and placed his plate in the sink, then took the one she’d just rinsed and put it in the dishwasher. “I wouldn’t call what I do dating.”
The annoyed feeling in her stomach intensified. “Ahh, so you’re talking about one-night stands. No wonder you were so good at getting my dress off. And here I thought I was the one who had done the seducing.” She handed him the next rinsed plate, then picked up the scrub brush and started scouring the saucepan with a vengeance.
Why was she so upset? What difference did it make that she was a one-night stand like all his other one-night stands? She didn’t want Ryker to care about her. And she certainly didn’t want to care about him. Her interest in him was purely business. To prove it, she ended the night quickly.
“Listen,” she said as she rinsed the pan, “thanks for reading my business plan. I really appreciate it. And don’t worry about helping with the rest of the dishes. I got it. I totally got it.”
There was a long, nerve-wrecking pause before Ryker turned her to face him. He looked confused. “Are you mad?”
She shook her head. “No. Why would I be mad?”
“I don’t know. I just get the feeling that you’re ticked about something.”
“Nope.”
He studied her for a moment before he hesitantly nodded. “Okay. I guess I’ll go.” He headed for the doorway that lead to the foyer, but stopped before he reached it. He stood there with his back to her as if he was waging some battle within himself. Then he turned around, walked back, and pulled her into his arms.
“I’m not ready to go,” he said in a low, husky whisper before he kissed her.
Chapter Fifteen
Ryker tried to mentally go over all the reasons why kissing Summer was a bad idea. But the reasons evaporated at the first touch of her lips. She tasted like summer should taste. She tasted of hot pavement beneath bare feet and melting ice cream on warm tongues. She tasted of cool dips in crystal clear pools and dark nights filled with exploding fireworks.
A part of him wanted her to resist him. Wanted her to call an end to his madness before it went too far. But she didn’t. Instead, her arms lifted to his shoulders and her wet fingers burrowed through his hair.
He’d kissed numerous women in his life, but none of their lips had fit his as perfectly as Summer’s. They fit like a key to a lock, opening up a door of desire that left no more room for denial. He wanted her. It didn’t matter that she was his best friend’s sister. It didn’t matter that he was leaving soon. All that mattered was the feel of her soft lips as they followed his lead. The feel of her slick tongue as it seductively danced with his. And the feel of her hot body as it pressed against him with the same consuming need that coursed through his veins.
A need he could no longer fight.
Once he gave his body permission to do what he had been wanting to do ever since first sampling Summer, there was no holding it back.
Without releasing her from his kisses, he slipped his hands beneath her t-shirt and up to the full softness of her breasts. He cradled each satin-covered globe, marveling that they fit in his palms as perfectly as her lips fit against his. He strummed the peaks with his thumbs until he could feel her hardened nipples through the material of her bra. She moaned, and he caught the sexy sound deep in his mouth.
He released her breasts and picked her up, setting her on the counter. He pulled away from the kiss to strip off her shirt and push down the cups of her bra. For a moment, he just stared at the two scoops of raspberry-topped perfection. He lowered his mouth to one breast. She moaned and hooked her legs around his waist, threading her fingers through his hair.
“Ryker.”
He loved the way his name sounded on her lips. He wanted her to say it over and over again. But the next time she said it, he wanted to be deep inside her. He picked her up and carried her out of the kitchen and into the foyer.
“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked against her breast.
“Upstairs.”
He lifted his head and looked at the long flight of stairs, then decided that the living room couch would work just as well.
As soon as he put her down on it, Summer laughed. “Couldn’t make it up the stairs with me?”
“I could’ve made it up the stairs. But I might’ve needed a few minutes to recuperate. And I don’t know if I can wait a few minutes to be inside you.” He pulled off his t-shirt. Her gaze greedily wandered over his bare chest. He loved the way she looked at him. But he loved it even more when she got to her knees and cupped his pectoral muscles in her hot hands.
“Nice body, Ryker.” She brushed her thumbs back and forth over his nipples before she lowered her head. His breath caught in his lungs and he had to lock his knees to keep them from giving out when she took his nipple into her hot, wet mouth.
He closed his eyes and gave himself over to the thick swell of desire her lips evoked as they tugged, and then took a nip. When he got a little too close to the edge of climaxing, he slid his fingers in her hair and tipped her face up for a kiss. But kissing Summer didn’t help him cool off. It only made him want her more. And she seemed to want him just as badly.
“I need you now,” she whispered against his lips. She drew back and unhooked her bra, letting it slip sexily from her smooth, pale shoulders. Then she flicked open the button of her shorts and slowly slid down her zipper. With a hip wiggle her shorts dropped . . . along with Ryker’s heart when he realized she wasn’t wearing any panties.
He thought he was horny before. But he didn’t know what horny was until Summer was completely naked and stretched out on the couch before him. He quickly took off his shoes and the rest of his clothes. But before he joined Summer on the couch, she stopped him.
“Don’t you want to get a condom from your wallet?”
“I don’t have a condom in my wallet.”
She sat up, her breasts swaying temptingly. “What do you mean? All single guys carry a condom in their wallets. Or did you just not replace it after our tequila night?”
His desire started to wane. “I didn’t use a condom on tequila night.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
A sick feeling settled in his stomach. “You said it was okay. And I assumed that meant you were on birth control.”
She got to her feet. “You assumed? I was drunk! I didn’t know what I was saying or doing.”
He tried to take an even breath, but it got stuck somewhere in his throat and choked him. “Y-Y-You’re not on birth control?”
“No! Why would I be on birth control when I haven’t had sex in two years?”
His knees gave out. Luckily, there was a chair behind him. He tried to breathe, but it was a struggle. “Okay. Calm down.�
� He didn’t know if he was talking to Summer or himself. “Let’s look at this logically. What are the chances of you getting pregnant after one time of unprotected sex?”
Summer stared at him. “How would I know? Do I look like Siri?”
“Good point.” He reached for his jeans and pulled out his phone. “We’ll ask Siri.” Once he asked the question, he read off the web results. “The highest chance of getting pregnant is one to two days before your ovulation. When was the end of your last period?”
“I do not want to talk about this with you.” She grabbed her shorts and pulled them on. “In fact, why don’t you just leave? I need a moment to think.”
He wanted to leave. He wanted to leave and pretend like this conversation had never happened. But it had happened, and he couldn’t leave until he knew just how freaked out he should be. He repeated the question in the same stern voice he used in the boardroom. “When was your last period?”
“I don’t know.” She picked up her bra. “I guess it was like two weeks ago.”
His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest as he scanned the article. “Okay. So that means we had sex right around ovulation.”
“Shit!” She flopped down on the couch and covered her face with her hands. He wanted to say something to make her feel better, but he was as scared shitless as she was. After a few minutes, she lifted her head. “Why wouldn’t you carry a condom in your wallet? I thought you just told me that you screwed a lot of women. Do you just go around having unprotected sex?”
“I always use a condom. But in the last year, I haven’t had time for women. So it wasn’t necessary to carry one. I certainly didn’t plan on having sex at my best friend’s sister’s wedding.” He rubbed his temples. “And just for the record, you were the one who gave me the green light.”
“Because I was horny and drunk!”
“I was horny and drunk too!” After the outburst, he ran a hand through his hair and released his breath. “Look, yelling at each other is not going to solve anything. Nor is worrying about something that might not even be an issue.” He got up and started getting dressed. “I’m going to drive into the pharmacy and buy a pregnancy test. Then at least we’ll know what we’re dealing with.”
