“How’s it going over there, Flash?”
I gritted my teeth. Nope. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting under my skin.
“Fine.” My stomach growled. I was such a wimp. In fact, there was a distinct possibility that I’d be going Hannibal Lecter on my arm by the time dawn rolled around.
“Liar. I can hear your stomach grumbling from over here.”
I didn’t doubt this because these walls were toilet-seat-cover thin.
“I have an extra peanut butter and jelly sandwich over here,” he offered.
Food. Sweet, delicious food.
My stomach grumbled again.
This guy was deep down in the depths of my shit list at the moment, but he just might have moved up a few pegs. I didn’t say anything, weighing my options. Suck it up for a few minutes and eat his food, or be stubborn and possibly resort to self-cannibalism—a tough decision.
“C’mon, Reynolds. I know you have to be hungry. Why don’t you come over here and I’ll share my sandwich with you?”
“Is that a euphemism?”
“My peanut butter is completely platonic. Scout’s honor.”
I smothered my laugh. Damnit, why did he have to be funny? I was supposed to be hating him, not smiling.
I considered his offer again. How hard could it really be? Small talk for a few minutes, eat Ryder’s food and then sneak back into my room and pretend this whole being stuck in the creepy lodge thing wasn’t happening. Seemed like a solid enough plan.
“Were you even a Boy Scout?” I asked.
“For a whole forty-eight hours.”
“Couldn’t handle the uniform?” I rolled over, staring at the divots in the ceiling, bracing myself for another face-to-face interaction with Ryder. It was easy to rip him a new one when we weren’t in the same room, but when I had to look at him, those blue eyes watching me, assessing me, it frayed every single nerve in my body.
“No. Decided I wanted to get my fire badge early and burned down a tent.”
A smile twitched at my lips. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me in the least bit.” I scooted off the bed and straightened my skirt, making my way out of the suite. I took a deep breath before knocking on his door.
In, out, keep it quick.
The door swung open, and Ryder smiled down at me, his blue eyes twinkling in the dim light. My stomach plunged. Really, the whole hotness factor was a distraction. Nothing short of a lighting strike to the head could deter me from my food mission, though. Peanut butter or bust.
I cleared my throat as we both stood in the doorway. “Did you at least get the badge?”
“No.” He hesitated, but then gave a smile.
My gaze followed the curve of his lips, the way the deep pink faded on the outer edges, giving way to tanned skin and a neatly trimmed beard that I bet would give my cheeks road rash if I brushed up against him.
Down girl. Food. Focus on food.
I’d spent the past months cursing him, and now that he was in the same room, it was like my mind had been wiped clean. Poof. No recollection of waking up and being utterly humiliated by picking another wrong guy.
“Thanks for coming over. I was starting to get a little stir crazy.”
“I only came for the peanut butter.” As if on cue, my stomach let out another growl.
“Then I won’t keep you waiting.” He motioned with a crutch to the table across the room where two sandwiches sat stacked atop each other in plastic baggies.
Ryder sat down. The table overlooked the view of the mountain—or what would have been the view if it weren’t completely white with blowing snow. He pushed a sandwich across to me, and I stared at the door longingly, debating to make a run for it. Even in an extreme state of hunger, I retained an iota of manners. I dropped into the chair across from him, tore off a piece of sandwich, and popped it into my mouth.
Sweet baby Jesus in a manger, this was the best thing I’d eaten all day. “Thank you,” I said.
“No problem. My brother wouldn’t be too happy if his designer died on the job. Liability and all.”
“Good point.” I took another bite.
He placed his sandwich on top of the plastic bag and looked at me, his expression turning serious. “I know you want to be here about as much as I do, but let’s make the best of it?”
Fine. Civility wouldn’t be too hard to manage for a couple of hours. That, and the fact that after this, I most likely wouldn’t see him again, so what the hell?
I raised my sandwich. “To stupid weather.”
“To stupid weather.” He clinked his sandwich to mine and we both took a bite. The wind howled against the window pane and I shuddered again, cursing myself that I hadn’t even packed a sweater.
Ryder pushed away from the table, grabbed a crutch, and strode over to a black duffel bag sitting on the bed. “I can’t watch you shiver,” he growled, the sound going straight to the space between my thighs. “Just take this.” He pulled out a pair of gray sweats and handed them to me.
I hesitated for a moment, then took them, thumbing the soft material. “If I hear one joke about being in your pants, I’m leaving.”
“Wouldn’t even think about it.” He pulled off his hoodie and held it in front of me, leaving him in his henley. “I don’t need this, either.”
I swallowed hard and pointedly ignored how the shirt clung to him, tapering at the waist. “Aren’t you going to be cold?”
He shrugged. “I’m used to the snow.”
Right. Snowboarder. One that was currently on crutches. I wondered what that meant for his career, but didn’t feel comfortable enough to ask him. People in professional sports were injured all the time—this probably was just a minor setback.
“Thanks,” I said, pulling the sweatshirt over my head. The material brushed over my nose and—oh my—hello, delicious cologne. The smell brought a flashback of tangled sheets, sweat-slicked skin, and fingers running through my hair. My eyes fluttered shut and I fought back another shiver—this one having nothing to do with the storm outside.
Do. Not. Go. There.
Again.
Okay, safe topic. I needed to find a safe topic so I didn’t make an ass out of myself and say something like your scent calls to me more than a Cinnabon kiosk at the mall—oh, and hey, can we, um, fix the four-month dry spell you’ve caused? K, thanks, bye. “I can’t believe the weather turned so ugly.”
He shifted his gaze to me, his deep voice cutting through the silence. “Anything can happen on the mountain.”
I swallowed hard. Looking at his leg, I didn’t doubt that.
Again he thumbed at the bracelet on his wrist, his jaw tensing. He’d worn that bracelet when I first met him, and from the ragged state, it appeared that it never came off. Ryder didn’t strike me as the accessorizing type, unless you counted his gear. He was like a Snowboarding Ken doll, though an anatomically correct one—seriously, I couldn’t have been the only one that peeked as a kid and was completely disappointed with the whole mangina situation going on in Ken’s pants.
He scrubbed his palms over his face and rested his elbows on his knees. “This was not how I saw this night going.”
“Big Valentine’s Day plans?”
He lowered his hands and looked at me like I’d just claimed I single-handedly caused the storm raging outside. “I didn’t even know that was today. Does this mean we’re each other’s valentines by default?”
I scoffed. “Not a chance.”
He chuckled. “Always so blunt. I like that about you.” He quickly cleared his throat as if he hadn’t meant to say that. “Well, non-valentine, looks like we’re going to be stuck here a while. Have anything in mind?” he said.
I decided against packing on another insult. He was being nice, and this sure as heck beat staring at the wall the rest of the night. “My form of entertainment is at 6 percent battery, so I’m open to suggestions.”
“Mine is fully charged. Want to watch something?”
“Sure.” What else did I have to do? Before I knew it, I was sitting on the bed next to him, leaning against the ornately carved headboard.
Snow gusting against the window was the only sound in the room as he searched for a show for us to watch.
So quiet.
Way too quiet.
I fidgeted with my necklace, moving the small diamond back and forth on the chain. The last time I was in bed with Ryder… I didn’t even want to finish that thought, because it’d do nothing but make this situation worse. I chanced a peek in his direction.
He chewed the inside of his cheek, swiping through our options. “This is awkward, huh?” he said.
“We’ve achieved Urkel status.”
He chuckled and scrolled through the show queue. “Would you rather watch Law and Order: SVU or Criminal Minds?”
“That is quite possibly the worst Would You Rather question ever asked.”
His eyes cut to mine. “I didn’t know I was playing a game.”
“You’ve never played it?”
He shook his head.
Lainey and I played this game all the time in college, and when we’d take road trips together. She always came up with the grossest ones. “It’s simple. All you have to do is ask the person which horrible thing they’d rather do. The harder the question, the better. Like would you rather lay in a pit of snakes, or eat questionably dead roadkill?” I pointed to his phone. “Oh, John Tucker Must Die. I like that one.”
“Negative, ghost rider.” He scrolled past my suggestion. “And what the hell does questionably dead mean? Is it still twitching, or are we talking suspicious cause of death?”
I shrugged. “The interpretation’s up to you.”
“You’re absolutely no help.” He swiped his thumb across his beard and contemplated. “I guess I’d go with the snakes.”
“Okay, now it’s your turn,” I said.
“Do I really have to play? I thought we were picking a show.”
I shot him a look.
“Fine. Would you rather have me or Chewbacca as your valentine?”
“Too easy. The spider.”
He put his hand to his heart. “You wound me.”
“Stop being such a baby.” I swatted at his chest and immediately pulled my hand back. Nope. Would not go there. “Okay, would you rather not be able to see or talk for a month?”
He answered instantly. “See.”
“Right. You’d probably go nuts if you couldn’t open that big mouth of yours.”
His lips twitched. “You’re one to talk.”
“Excuse me?” Okay, I did have a tough time keeping my thoughts on lockdown outside the office, but that was my own cross to bear.
“Don’t even try to play it off like you’re innocent.”
I’d dated a lot of losers in the past, most who hadn’t even bothered to get to know me, but even after only hanging out a few times, Ryder had me pegged. He was perceptive. I saw the look in his eyes whenever I dealt with Jason. His attention focused solely on me was unnerving. “Jerk,” I sputtered.
“Now I know you’re holding back. You can do way better than that.” He scrolled through his phone again. “How about Die Hard?”
“Are all your show selections about death? I’m starting to worry I made a mistake coming over here.” My lips pulled into a smile and I quickly extinguished it. God, I wanted to hate him.
“Fine.” He continued looking at the Netflix queue. “Would you rather eat sushi from a taco stand, or lick an airplane armrest?”
“Good one. Sushi.” I pointed to his screen. “How about 10 Things I Hate About You?”
He shook his head and chuckled. “Are all of your suggestions going to not-so-subtly tell me you hate me?”
I smiled sweetly. “Maybe.”
“Just think, most people would find this to be a romantic escape. Two people, stuck in the mountains on Valentine’s Day,” he said.
“We’re Hallmark movie material, all right,” I deadpanned.
“Okay, fine. How about The Walking Dead?”
“Your show picking powers have been officially revoked.” I grabbed the phone from his hand.
“Hey!” He grabbed for the phone, and I held it out of reach. “You’re going to regret that.” Within seconds he was on top of me, playfully pinning me to the bed, his strong hands circling my wrists. Air evaporated from my lungs as our gazes connected.
I was immediately transported back to that night.
Tell me what you want, Zoey. Tell me what you need from me.
I swallowed hard. That was months ago, and those words still haunted me from time to time. Because he did exactly that, gave me what I wanted and needed. Repeatedly.
We were frozen there, him hovering above me, the heat between us burning a trail through my veins, from head to toe. I ached for him all over again.
His voice came out gravelly as he said, “You have peanut butter on you.”
Before I could swipe away the food, he bent down and his tongue swept along the curve of my neck. A groan escaped my lips before I could check myself. Lights exploded behind my eyes, and I melted into the mattress as he continued working his way down to my collarbone feverishly, like he was getting lost in himself. His fingers left my wrist and fisted my hair. My body arched into him. I needed him. Needed this so badly. One time wasn’t enough.
I froze at that.
Last time.
Oh no.
I was not going through that again. He ruined me once, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to survive a second time, no matter how bad my body begged for it.
I pushed at his shoulders. “Stop, Ryder.”
He immediately pulled away, his face flushed, blue eyes wild and unfocused.
The sight was enough to make me second-guess my decision.
“I—I need to go.” I rolled off the bed and made my way to the door before I could do something stupid like remove any clothing. “Th—thanks for the sandwich,” I called before shutting the door, not daring to look back.
I made it to the safety of my room and tore off his sweatshirt, not wanting to be reminded of his smell, of anything of his that would change my mind and pull me back to his room. I lay down on my bed and moments later, the shower started up in Ryder’s suite.
No cold shower would extinguish what my body craved at the moment.
Chapter Three
Ryder
Snow clung to every tree lining the mountain floor outside my window when I woke up the next morning. I pulled on my shirt and jeans and made my way to Zoey’s room. An apology was required for last night—I’d taken it too far. Something about her just drove me to the point where I wasn’t in my right mind.
At least one of us had common sense, because in that moment I would have given my left hand to finish what we’d started. She’d done us both a favor.
I knocked on her door. “Flash, you in there?”
No answer.
I tried again, which proved to be a fruitless effort. I pulled on my shoes and went out into the parking lot, where I found a fresh set of shoe prints and departing tread marks disturbing the otherwise pristine snow.
Dammit.
Karma was a cruel bitch.
Unease settled in my gut. I’d like to say it was because I was hungry as hell after having a measly PB and J sandwich for dinner, but I knew better than to kid myself. I never expected to be in the same room with Zoey again. Now I remembered why I wanted her in the first place. I swiped a hand over my face. It was that mouth of hers, that damn attitude that drove me half up the wall.
Jesus.
That woman had been my undoing without even trying. Which was why I needed to stay away from her. Far, far away.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling me out of my thoughts. I clicked the call button. “’Sup?”
My brother’s voice boomed through the speaker. “How is the resort? Did you see Zoey?”
“The resort is—yeah.” The only thing worth keeping wa
s the land it sat on.
“How does it look?” Jason repeated.
“If you want to keep tabs so bad, you should’ve taken up my offer to drive you yesterday.”
“I’m…not ready for that yet.”
All smartass remarks died on my tongue. At the moment, we were both injured; I’d broken my leg two months after his accident, but while my tanked run down the mountain led to a career hiatus, Jason’s accident changed his life forever, leaving him paralyzed from the waist down. Even if Jason handled everything with Superman stoicism, he was only human. And even tyrants needed a day off.
“I need to ask you a favor,” he said.
…
Zoey
Breathe in.
Your body is a crime scene. Slap on the caution tape, close that shit up for business. I liked to get creative with my inner mantras. Temple? So cliché. Plus, there were so many more murderous thoughts than peaceful ones going on that I couldn’t really classify it as a sanctuary anymore.
Breathe out.
Bitable scruff so scratchy and delicious against my skin.
Shit. No. Bad, Zoey.
Breathe in.
Can’t forget that tongue. Oh, girl. Spread the peanut butter on thicker next time.
Good. Lord.
I fell out of Half Lotus Crow and face-planted into my yoga mat in the middle of my living room. Screw this noise. I lay there, sprawled out on the floor. What the hell? Why was I so flustered? I never screwed up my poses. Not when I totally bombed stressful meetings. Definitely not after breakups. Though, nobody had caused my mind to strike a line in the sand with my body before, either. It was WWZoey. First showdown—Battle of Hornysburg. Mind won, just barely. Multiple casualties.
Even if my body was cuing up the sad trombone at my refusal to end my current dry spell, I had bigger things to focus on. Namely, making sure my client was happy. All this sexual frustration could be channeled into making a fabulous resort.
It didn’t matter anyway, because I’d never see Ryder again. Sure, leaving without saying good-bye might have been a bit insensitive, but it also earned me a delicious slice of payback for how things went down in November. Who cared? I was working with his brother, who could have written a textbook on how to be professional. Someone who would never lick anything off my neck.
The Rule Maker (Rule Breakers) Page 3
