“Is that a good wow or a bad wow?”
“It’s just so…” I scan the rest of the paperbacks and then the sleeping bag, pillows, and cooler, which is nestled up against a small shelf. “Homey,” I decide, eyeing the toothpaste and travel size mouthwash on the shelf. The shelf is handmade and there are all sorts of words carved onto its sides, kind of like Ryder’s tree tattoo.
“It gets me by.”
“So, when you said you move around a lot…”
“I pitch a tent, yeah. I’ve lived out of my Jeep, too.” He glances at me cautiously, but if he’s expecting me to be freaked out, he’s going to be disappointed.
“You really are free,” I say, moving to sit down on his sleeping bag. I cross my legs and look around, instantly feeling cozy. “I dig it.”
“You...you do?”
“Yeah.” I shrug, extending my hand to his. “What, did you expect me to run?”
He takes my hand and lets me pull him down to the sleeping bag, where he scoots next to me and mimics my posture. “Maybe a little.”
“I’m not your ex.”
“No, you’re definitely not. Ah, hey, that’s not why I brought you here—”
I sway to the left and bump my shoulder into his. “I know,” I say. “So, where’s this Thanksgiving dinner you promised me? And didn’t you say you have a dog?”
“Oh, now you’re in a rush to eat?” He smirks and sweeps a lock of hair over my shoulder, brushing it back as he stares at me thoughtfully. “I do. His name’s Duke. You’ll meet him soon.”
“Well, don’t tease me.”
“Right this way, baby.” He rises and offers me a hand, pulling me up. He unzips the tent and we step back out into the cool, damp air. We begin walking down the main dirt path, leading away from the campsite. “Everyone’s really excited to meet you.”
My steps slow. “Everyone? Everyone who?”
“You’ll see.” He reaches out and brushes his thumb over my cheekbone. “I love this look on you, by the way.”
“What look?”
“No makeup. It’s sexy.”
“Seriously?” I find myself fidgeting under his appraisal, so I fall back into a stride, keeping our fingers linked.
“Why does that surprise you?” he asks as he resumes the lead. “You’re a beautiful woman, Elise. Inside and out, no makeup or hair products necessary.”
I want to say, You don’t know my insides. You don’t know I just fucked Nate. You don’t know the damage I’m capable of.
But I remain quiet, letting him guide me through the woods.
“You know what I don’t understand?” Ryder breaks the silence, with his curiosity.
“What’s that?”
“Why you seem confused by my impression of you. You know you’re sexy as hell, and you have the confidence to match. You’re bold. So, why the confusion?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.” My voice is breezy and I look away, pretending to admire the tall, majestic tree trunks surrounding us.
“What are you hiding, Elise Duchamp?” He smiles and watches me for a moment. “You should know I’m pretty persistent when I want to know something.”
“Is that a threat?” I retort, sending him my most devious grin.
“Something like that.”
The mood lightens, but our banter is interrupted by sounds of music and laughing. “What’s that?”
“That,” Ryder says, dropping my hand to slip an arm around my waist, “is the sound of a good time. Come with me.” He squeezes me closer and begins to hustle, his excitement making me giddy as we trail around a cluster of trees toward the source of the noise.
“Ryder, my man!” a voice hits us, salty and cordial. “Is this her?”
“Hey Richard,” Ryder replies, looking between me and the man. “Yup, this is her. Elise, this is Richard, a good neighbor of mine.” He whistles over Richard’s shoulder, calling to something in the distance. A black Labrador retriever trots over to us, and Ryder crouches down to give the dog a good rub on the head. “And this is Duke,” he says, looking down at the dog fondly. “Rich watches him for me sometimes.”
“Hi,” I say, extending a hand to Rich. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same to you, gorgeous, same to you. We’ve been hearing a lot about you around these parts lately.”
“Oh?” Heat rushes my cheeks as I turn my attention to Duke. The dog gives me a sloppy kiss and rolls over to let me pet his belly. This guy Richard has long, curly hair, tied back in a ponytail. He’s got kind eyes and an even kinder smile, and a bandana wraps around his temples. His clothes are gritty and for all I know, he brews his own beer and sings “Kumbaya” near the fire every night. One glance at the rest of the crowd here, and I’d venture to guess they all do.
Do these people know me the way the rest of Gig Harbor does?
“Oh yeah, Ryder here has told us all about you.”
I rise from petting Duke and my surprise intensifies as I look to Ryder, who’s grinning slyly at me. “I might have mentioned you a time or two.”
“Hey,” Richard laughs, leaning in like he’s about to tell me a secret, “don’t let this boy fool you. He’s a smart son of a bitch and knows the hand he’s playing.”
“Okay, Rich, time for me to get my girl some food,” Ryder chides. He rustles up a stray stick from the ground and tosses it, giving Duke a signal. Duke runs off to play and Ryder’s arm resumes its position around my waist. I’m swept away from Richard and led toward a smoking charcoal grill and an old wooden picnic table. The way Ryder calls me his girl doesn’t escape me, but I don’t bother correcting him.
“Take your pick,” Ryder says proudly, waving to the array of food scattered on the table.
“Classy,” I laugh, nodding to the plates of hot dogs and hamburgers, tubs of coleslaw, and bags of potato chips.
“Hey, I never promised fancy.” He hands me a paper plate and a beer, then studies me for a moment, chewing his lip as he does. “Are you freaking out again?”
“None of this freaks me out, Ryder.”
“Good, because these are the best damn burgers you’ll ever taste.” He holds my gaze for a second more and then breaks away, filling his plate with the Thanksgiving cookout fare.
I join him in loading my plate with a little bit of everything, and then Ryder guides me around the campsite, introducing me to a handful of people I know I’ll forget the names of in a matter of minutes. I am never good at names, and this entire situation is beyond overwhelming. Instead of judgmental stares, I get hearty hugs and handshakes. Instead of snide comments, I get laughter and grins all around. The people don’t know the dirt I’m carrying around, right here, on their front lawn.
We sit on tree stumps around a campfire, feasting on grilled meat with all the fixings and chatting about all of the things we’re thankful for. Ryder is thankful for freedom, as are many of his friends, while others ponder the luxury of warm food and the company of good friends. When all eyes are turned on me, I say I’m grateful for today’s invite. A woman named Cindy squeezes my shoulder good naturedly, and Richard cracks me open another beer.
“Sun’s going down soon, man,” Richard says, lighting up a blunt. He passes it around the fire and we all share. “You going to take Elise to see Stevie?”
“Stevie?” I ask, taking a sip of my beer. Duke settles down at Ryder’s feet, content with a bone Rich gave him.
“I don’t know,” Ryder says to Richard, “do you think she would approve?”
“I think she would,” Richard nods solemnly, then bursts out laughing. “Go on, man, what are you waiting for? Scat! Duke’s staying with me tonight in the RV. It’s too cold for him in that tent of yours.” He waves us off and Ryder grabs a flashlight from one of the picnic benches. Saying goodnight to everyone, Ryder gives Duke a pat on the head, then takes my hand to lead me away from the party, toward another path that branches off into the nearby woods.
“Are you going to tell me who Stevie is? Please don’t sa
y your ex.” I give him a pout, jutting my bottom lip out.
“You have your secrets, I have mine,” Ryder says, his warm eyes twinkling like the twilight that’s quickly descending upon us.
I don’t say another word, letting him guide me along the dim path. Branches snap and twigs crack at our feet, and the wind picks up, lashing at my neck and shoulders like a harsh whip.
Ryder switches on the flashlight and comes to a dead stop, leaning down to lift me off my feet. “Let me warm you up,” he says, sweeping me up into his arms. He cradles me against his chest and I nuzzle into his neck, feeling him shiver from my cold lips pressing into his skin. “We’re almost there.”
“You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”
“To meet Stevie.”
“Ryder,” I groan, kissing his neck.
“Patience, baby.” A few seconds later, I’m placed onto my feet and I’m met with a large, black telescope. “Elise, meet Stevie.”
I glance at the telescope and then back at Ryder. “You named a telescope.”
“I did.”
“Care to share what compelled you to do such a thing?”
“Fleetwood Mac,” Ryder says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. “Speaking of,” he raises a finger and pulls out his iPod, thumbing through a playlist. “Richard, the crew, and I all chipped in and bought Stevie. Tonight’s the perfect night for star gazing. Come here.” He slides his iPod in his jacket pocket and walks me up to the telescope, placing one earbud in my ear and the other in his, stationing me in front of him. His arms wrap around me from behind, and he leans down to brush his lips against my earlobe, triggering a wave of pleasure down my spine.
“The sky’s so clear,” I say, tilting my head back to look up. The day’s gloomy cloud cover has dissipated and is now replaced with a stark black canvas of sparkling stars. The night is crisp and fresh, and Ryder’s right. It’s the perfect night for star gazing.
“It’s something, huh? And to think it’s all for free.” He presses up against me from behind, aligning his legs with mine, and burrows into me, holding me snugly in his arms. “Nature’s always the best entertainment. You can’t see much with this thing. It’s a piece of crap, actually. But it’s better than nothing.” He bends slightly and adjusts something on the telescope, gesturing for me to take a peek. “Give it a try, baby.”
I accept the invitation and reach up to hold the telescope, squinting to get a good look through the lens. Fleetwood Mac croons dreamily as we speak. “I haven’t done this in…well, ever, I think.”
“You’ve never looked at the sky like this?”
“Never.”
“You’ve been missing out,” he says, dropping a hand to my hip. “My dad used to teach me all about the stars and shit. He loved telling me about the planets and different galaxies. That was before.”
“Before?”
He shakes his head against the back of mine. “Yeah, when he was cool. Before all the college bullshit.”
I hum in realization, recalling the way his parents had pressured him to go to an Ivy League school. “So you guys had good times…before.”
“Yeah. Yeah, we did.”
I release my grip on the telescope and crane my neck to the side, letting him have a turn. I study him as he looks up, wanting to run my fingers through his hair and taste his lips on mine again.
I don’t move.
“What about you?” he asks, focusing hard. “You and your parents get along?”
My throat goes dry but I fight for words. “Nah, not really.”
“Sorry to hear. Do they live here, in Gig Harbor?”
“Did.”
“Oh, what, did they move away?”
“My mom died, and my dad moved to L.A.”
“Shit,” he pulls his head back from the telescope, looking down at me. “Sorry, Elise.”
“Thanks.”
“So, your dad moved to L.A.? Did he get remarried or something?”
“Yeah. She looks like me, actually. Close to my age, too.”
“Damn.”
“Fucked up, right?”
He nods, watching me carefully as I lift my gaze back up to the sky. “How did your mom…”
“Cancer.” My skin turns icy, prompting me to break out into a fit of uncontrollable shivers. As I say the dreaded word, my father’s voice haunts the air, reaching into the deepest part of me. “You wanna head back to the tent?”
When I return my gaze to Ryder, he blinks. “Uh…sure, yeah.” He tilts his head for a second, scanning something over my shoulder. “Sorry, you’re probably freezing.”
I am freezing. On the inside and out. But I don’t want to think about that. All I want is to go back to Ryder’s tent and pick up where we left off in his Jeep. The stars aren’t lonely up there, hanging with such bright, spotless company. As for me, I am drowning in a sea of longing. I need to be seen, to be touched, to be heard. And Ryder’s affection is the remedy.
CHAPTER 9
The air in the tent is warmer and stuffy. I slip off my jacket and crawl onto Ryder’s lap, stationing my knees on each side of him. He welcomes me, drinking me in. His eyes rake down, then back up, and his arms move to encase me against him. I look down into his soulful gaze, running my fingers through his hair just as I’ve been wanting to. The soft crackle of the fire outside seeps into the tent, mixing with the music Ryder’s turned on. I recognize it: “Born to Die” by Lana Del Rey.
“Touch me,” I whisper against his mouth, pulling lightly on his bottom lip with my teeth. I bring my arms up and rest my elbows on top of his shoulders, tangling his hair tighter between my fingers.
“This position feels familiar,” he laughs under his breath, smiling into my kiss. He cups my head, skimming my cheek lightly. I feel as if I’ll shatter in his hands. “How do you want it, baby?”
“Like this.”
“Is this your favorite?” He subtly rolls his hips up, meeting me with a soft thrust.
“Yes.” With him, it will be. I couldn’t hold back the truth if I tried. I’m rarely on top, and when I am, it’s with a man who doesn’t know how to touch me. And one who certainly doesn’t look at me the way Ryder does.
His hands find the hem of my sweater and slip underneath, slowly creeping up. They explore the sides of my torso, then glide down my rib cage before climbing back up to the bottom curves of my breasts. I whimper and dip my hips, prompting a sharp hiss from his lips. He pulls back from my mouth and gasps slightly, grazing his fingers along my curves, running them from side to side. He plays with each swell, taking his time feeling their weight.
Another whimper breaks free from my throat and his control slips.
His hands become more desperate, cupping and kneading my breasts, groping hard at my nipples. He stops abruptly, reaching down to snatch the hem of my sweater up and over my head. My bra goes right with it, and I hear the fine sound of a zipper beneath me, feel him tugging at the button of my jeans. I don’t wait for him to undo it, instead reaching for his jacket. I shrug it down his shoulders and work fast over the buttons of his flannel shirt.
“I can’t wait to feel you,” he breathes, glancing down as I work to undress him. His mouth doesn’t wander far from mine, nipping and sucking at my lips as I go. “Can I taste you first?” he asks when I reach the bottom button. My throat locks up and I forget how to speak.
No one’s ever asked me like that before.
I nod softly and let his shirt slide down his arms. It gathers at his wrists and he discards it to the side, then shifts to lower me down on my back in front of him. I’m waiting for him to sense Nate all over me, to freeze and turn disgusted, to cast me out of his home. Instead, he slides my jeans down my legs and trails one finger along my panty line. The sensation makes my skin burn and I wiggle against his fingertip.
“There it is.” He continues teasing my panty line, his eyes falling on my tattoo. It’s just below my right hip bone. “What does it say?” He grazes his thumb over the birdcage
and then skims the bird flying from the open door. The bird carries a heart with an inscription. “Quand on veut, on peut,” I say. “When one wants, one can. The French equivalent for where there’s a will, there’s a way. ”
His gaze lifts and burns me for a moment. “I love it. Just like I love this,” he says, kneeling in front of me. He sits back on his heels and appraises me. I can feel his gaze make a lazy trail from my eyes to my lips, then down the slope of my neck. It lingers on my breasts and slithers down to my navel, finally landing on the panty line he’s been playing with. “Seeing you bare, wet, and mine.” He lowers himself to my thighs.
I have to look away.
“Elise,” he breathes against my inner thigh. “Don’t take your eyes off me.”
I don’t speak, just hook my thumbs into the sides of my panties and start to peel them down my hips.
His hands reach out and stop me. “Let me.” He maintains his stare, but I can’t give him what he wants. I can’t hold the contact. He finishes peeling my panties off and his head floats back down, his mouth just inches from my clit. “Delicious,” he whispers, sliding two fingers inside of me just as he leans in to lick slowly. My back arches and I bow off the sleeping bag at the feel of his tongue.
“Shit,” I pant, my hands drifting down to his head.
“Elise, your eyes.” His fingers glide deeper inside as his tongue flicks my clit. The pleasure is so deep, so razor sharp, I can’t focus on anything else but his touch. “Stay with me, baby.”
He pumps his fingers back and forth and my lids flitter open. I roll my head slightly so I’m able to look down at him. His penetrating chocolate eyes hammer into me and he rewards me with another luscious lick. He pumps his fingers harder as he works me with his tongue and I begin to grind against him, the rhythm he’s setting sending me coasting into a tumultuous storm. It’s brewing inside and out, rattling my bones, and everything about it makes me squirm.
“Ryder, oh my God.” The pressure of his tongue is too much, sending me to the edge too fast, too soon, but I can’t pull away. I wriggle beneath him as I feel the build, but his hands clamp down on my hips and he holds me still, pressing me into the sleeping bag. “Ryder, fuck!”
The Replacement Page 11
