“You think so?”
“Man, I’m the last person you should be asking for advice when it comes to that stuff. Look at my track record.”
It was true. My dating history was shorter than a haiku. And then there was Brogan. An owner of a Fortune 500 business, about to pop the question to someone he loved enough to sweat it out in a jewelry store for over two hours. I didn’t even know what I was having for dinner tonight.
What did Zoey see in me? A twenty-five-year-old snowboarding washout, if my last three runs down the mountain were any indication. She was on her way up the ladder at her design firm. If I didn’t go back to sports, I didn’t know what else I had to offer her.
“Doesn’t mean you can’t get back on track. It only takes one girl to change your mind.” His face beamed. In fact, I’d never seen him so happy. “Before I met her, I was resigned to the fact I was going to be single until I retired. She lit up my life.”
Damn. My friend had fallen hard for this woman if he resorted to clichés. But I got what he meant. Zoey didn’t quite light up my life—more like incinerated it with a blow torch. I’d happily walk through the flames with her.
“Sounds like you found a keeper,” I said. Even if I didn’t trust her if any knives were within reach.
His smile broadened. “I did.”
“Hope one day I’m lucky enough to have what you do with Lainey.”
Just a few weeks ago, I couldn’t even think past a night with a woman. Now, all I could think about was when I’d get to see Zoey again. My past self would have found this pathetic. But my past self didn’t know what it had been missing the first time around with her.
I stared at the rings in the case. Maybe Brogan was right. It only took one woman to change everything.
…
Zoey
To-do list:
1. Nothing.
T-minus fifteen days until this design job was finished. Four days and sixteen hours since I’d seen Ryder. But who was counting, right? With everything ordered for the project, the team was waiting on the final design elements to be delivered, which weren’t supposed to arrive until later this week.
I’d managed a lazy Sunday so far. Forgoing my morning yoga, I slept in until seven. I hadn’t even changed out of my sweats yet as I sat in front of the TV, watching Ina create another masterful dish. As far as days off went, this constituted as a win. Maybe not Ferris Bueller level in terms of excitement, but I’d take it.
“Just take a pinch of salt and add it to the pan. Make sure to keep stirring, because you don’t want the butter to burn.”
I knocked my head back against the couch and took a sip of my spinach smoothie. If only I could cook like the people on TV. But I’d proven myself unworthy of wielding a spatula in any capacity. And a stove? I glanced over at the hulking metal object in the kitchen that yielded nothing but charred crust and heartbreak. Yeah, I was staying far away from that.
I checked my phone again, looking to see if I had any new emails. Okay, so I sucked at this whole relaxing thing. I needed something to get my mind off the fact that the next few weeks would decide my fate at Bass and Goldstein. I just hated that I couldn’t do anything about it. I was at a complete loss for something to control, and it made my mind spin.
I glanced back to the cooking show; Ina was making a batch of brownies and my mouth watered in a Pavlovian response. Lainey was the baker in the household, but she’d been so busy lately at work, she probably wouldn’t have time to cook this week. And those brownies looked so damn delicious. My stomach growled in agreement.
Cooking looked like an excellent distraction. Plus, Ryder loved brownies. After he’d been so great about everything, especially making sure Jason wouldn’t say anything to my boss, I thought it would be nice to make him a sweet treat. I squinted back over at the stove. It looked innocent enough at the moment. I mean, really, how hard could they be to make? I’d seen Lainey do it tons of times. We even had that bomb Costco Ghirardelli brownie mix in the cupboard that only required oil and an egg. A toddler could manage that.
I looked to the television for reassurance. If someone on the Food Network could do it, I definitely could.
Okay, it was decided. I’d make brownies. And okay, I’d eat half the pan before I packaged up a few squares for Ryder on a Dixie plate, but he didn’t need to know that.
I grabbed Lainey’s mixer from the cabinet and gathered all the ingredients on the counter.
Phew. I stretched my neck and cracked my knuckles. Deep breaths. It’d been a while since I mixed anything more than yogurt and granola, but there were literally four ingredients in this whole thing. If a child could manage an Easy Bake Oven, then there was hope for me.
I read the package, mixed the ingredients and poured them into a glass pan. I even remembered to grease it with Crisco. Zoey: 1 Stove: 0
By the time I plopped the brownie mix into the oven, I was on the verge of world domination. Or at the very least, would have tasty brownies in approximately fifty minutes. Just change my middle name to Rachel Ray, because my bad-luck baking streak was coming to an end. If only Lainey could be here to witness this. Of course, if she were here, she’d tell me to put down the spatula and back away from the kitchen, slowly. She didn’t exactly have a lot of faith in my baking abilities. Not that I blamed her. There was that whole grease fire in college that nearly took out the apartment, so she had every right to not trust me. But really, this was a piece of cake—or brownies, I should say. I’d watch the oven closely, and these bad boys would be cooked to perfection. I could wrap them up nicely for Ryder and attempt the I-don’t-know-where-we’re-at-in-regard-to-a-relationship-but-here’s-some-baked-goods dance around the topic.
I sat down on the couch and turned on an episode of Cake Boss. There was seriously nothing better than watching those beautiful cakes be decorated. Maybe after I made the brownies, I’d sign up for a cake class at the shop downtown. I could surprise the heck out of Lainey with my newfound kitchen ninja skills.
My phone buzzed and I grabbed it off the table. Ryder. Before I could catch myself, my lips had already pulled into one of those stupid, sappy grins, one that, if my face were put into emoji form, would have heart eyes and a kissy mouth. Is this what relationships did? Not that I was in one, of course. I mean, we were taking it one day at a time. But each day since we’d gotten together had been pretty darn awesome. Besides almost getting caught by Jason. Good thing we only have three more weeks and then Ryder was officially off my client list.
Ryder: Want to meet up later?
Zoey: Sure. Give me a couple hours. I’m working on something.
Ryder: Does this something involve zero clothing?
Zoey: Nope, #teamfullyclothedinsweatpants all the way.
I looked down at my clothes. I hadn’t even bothered to change out of my sweats and tank top, because when I had the odd day off, I didn’t really worry about things such as hygiene or being a potential biohazard. But crap, I had two hours to change my appearance from garbage fire to semi-presentable. I hadn’t shaved since the whole wine tasting incident and things down there were getting a little scary.
Jitter plopped down beside me and rubbed his head against my elbow. “You think I should take a shower?”
He collapsed next to me, putting his paws straight into the air. “C’mon, that’s just insulting. I didn’t think I smelled that bad.”
He thought better than to stick his tongue out. Instead, he meowed and nuzzled closer to me. “Seriously, we need to work on your tact. You’re going to give a girl a complex.” I scratched under his chin as I excavated myself from the couch, and when I turned around, Jitters had claimed my spot. I pulled up my music app on my phone and blasted my Taylor Swift station while pulling off my clothes.
After I ran the shower, I stood under there for a long time, letting the water stream over me. The Taylor Swift station was totally on point today, and I’d jammed out to at least half a dozen songs before managing the whole hair situation.
W
hile I continued to un-yeti my legs, my mind slipped into designer mode. Showers always seemed to spark the best ideas. I needed one of those doodle pads that stuck to the wall so I could scribble designs. I was heavy into thinking about rich textiles to pair with these spectacular vases I saw at an antique store downtown, when a loud beep echoed through the apartment.
What the hell?
I peered around the shower curtain and my gaze locked on the smoke curling under the door.
Smoke?
What in the world…
And then it hit me.
The oven. My brownies that were supposed to be cooked to perfection.
No, no, no. The first time baking in months could not end in disaster.
How long had I been in here? Obviously long enough to set off the smoke alarm.
I shut off the water and grabbed my towel, booking it out of the bathroom. The sprinklers hadn’t turned on yet so it couldn’t be too bad. I held a sliver of hope that maybe they were still salvageable. As I rounded the corner to the kitchen, black smoke snaked through the hallway. Double shit. Okay, the edible probability just dropped to 0 percent.
Flames poured out of the oven, and I coughed, holding the edge of my towel to my nose. All I needed was to get to the fire extinguisher before the whole kitchen went down in flames. Or before the sprinklers activated and turned our living room into a swimming pool. No big deal. Christ, Lainey was going to murder me. And then she would bring me back to life just to force-feed me the charred remains of my baking catastrophe.
Nope. Not happening. I’d get the extinguisher and put the fire out before that happened. I stared at the cabinet next to the sink, the one currently housing my little red life-saver. The cabinet next to the burning stove.
Okay, no need to panic. Towel. Yes, that would do. I unhooked the towel from my body and tried to tamp down the flames as I reached into the bottom cabinet. With ninja-like precision, I grabbed the canister in less than a second.
Fire extinguisher acquired. My pulse beat wildly in my temples as I realized I’d never used one before. Seriously, Past Zoey sucked big time for never bothering to study up on the instructions, because right now wasn’t exactly an ideal time to spend precious seconds reading.
After a few times struggling with the release and handle, I finally got it to work and doused the flames. I knew enough to turn off the oven and let the flames inside die down. There was a glass half full aspect to this—at least I managed to get this all under control before the sprinklers—
Water shot from the ceiling as if by my just thinking it, the sprinklers decided it’d be a good time to turn on. “Yeah, you’re a little late on that one,” I yelled as I opened windows.
Jitters meowed and ran under the sofa, cleaning his drenched fur.
I looked out at the living room, the smoke detector blaring, a cloud of burnt brownies hanging heavy in the air. Disaster.
Um, yeah, totally screwed. Lainey was going to kill me.
“Flash? What happened?” Ryder yelled over the detector.
I swiveled around to find him standing in the doorway, his eyes wide.
“Help me turn it off,” I yelled, pointing to the device on the ceiling that I wouldn’t even be able to reach if I stood on a chair.
At this point, I realized I was still holding the fire extinguisher and I was bare-ass naked. He made quick work of unhooking the smoke detector and silence pulsed through the apartment. He rushed over to me and pulled me into his arms, taking in my disheveled state and frowned. “I feel like I’m overdressed for the occasion.”
I banged my head against his chest, cringing at the mess I’d made. “Shut up. I had a situation.”
His hand stroked down my cheek. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt are you?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just tried to bake.”
“Here, let me help you.” He disappeared into the bathroom and came out seconds later with a fresh towel, wrapping it around me and pulling me into a hug. Jitters took a swipe at him as he walked by. “You do know that you’re supposed to take stuff out of the oven before it burns, right?”
“Really? They don’t mention that on the cooking shows,” I deadpanned.
“Didn’t Lainey ban you from the kitchen?”
“Yes.” I groaned, looking at the apartment, the wood floors now a massive puddle.
Good news: the sprinklers managed to miss the electronics.
Bad news: the couch would be soggy for a week.
“Go get dressed. I’ll find some more towels and start cleaning up the mess,” he said, and kissed the top of my head.
“Thanks.” I stood on my tip toes and gave him a quick hug before disappearing into my room.
After quickly changing into jeans and a T-shirt, I made my way out into the living room. Ryder was on his hands and knees sopping up the wet mess and fending off Jitters, who was charging him with each swipe of the towel.
“Jitters!” I picked him up and went to my room, giving him the stink-eye before shutting the door. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what it is about him and new people. I promise, he is a nice cat.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he said. Ryder had moved over to the stove, extracting the badly charred glass pan from the oven. The contents were completely unidentifiable. It looked like an inkblot test, one where you were supposed to find shapes. Right now, I could spot Santa’s coal and my twelfth grade calculus teacher.
“What was this supposed to be?” He bit back a smile, but I didn’t fail to notice the edges of his lips curling as he tried to keep a straight face.
I crossed my arms and bit my lip. “Brownies.”
“Well, you almost have the color right,” he said, flicking a charred mound that disintegrated upon his touching it. “What possessed you to do this?”
“I wanted to make you something.”
“Aw, Flash.” His expression softened, and he set down the pan and pulled me into a hug, chuckling. “You almost burned down half your kitchen for me?”
I nodded. Seriously, why did I even think that was a good idea?
He smiled down at me and tucked a piece of my uncombed hair behind my ear. “That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
“Really?” I didn’t know if that spoke more to the fact he had really crappy relationships in the past or the epicness of my baking disaster.
“Zoey, the fact that you tried something that is way out of your element is sweet.” He looked around the kitchen. “Although, I don’t recommend ever touching anything that isn’t pre-cooked in the future.”
“Yes, I’ve come to realize I’m more of a hazard than anything else when it comes to kitchen activities.”
His arms circled my waist. “You know what I like?”
I looked up at him. “What?”
“Store-bought brownies. They’re even sexier than homemade ones.” He guided me over to the towel-covered couch, and I swung my legs over his and leaned my head against his chest.
“Now, that I can do. I can even buy Little Debbies, the ones with the filling in the center,” I said.
He groaned. “I like when you talk dirty to me.”
He leaned down and swept my lips into a kiss. Everything about being with Ryder just felt right. Even with the rest of my life in utter chaos, he buoyed me, and I was thankful for that.
Chapter Sixteen
Ryder
I sat on the ski lift, letting my board dangle from one leg. Take number four down the mountain. After taking my doctor’s advice and easing up on my leg, everything started to run a little smoother. I no longer worried that my teeth were going to crack every time I walked on it. Spending time with Zoey also helped bandage some of the pent-up anxiety about not getting out on the slopes right away.
With Zoey inundated with shipments arriving and final preparations at the lodge, I figured it was as good a time as any to hit one of my favorite passes and see if my career was in the shitter. The last three outings ended in more cussing and f
alling than actual boarding. I could only hope that the rehab and training I’d done on my leg these past few weeks helped speed up the process of getting back on the mountain, permanently. Because as fun as it was overseeing the construction of the resort, I had to get back to reality. Spring training resumed in a few weeks, and the deadline to give an answer on whether I’d be attending was fast approaching.
Andy had called twice a day this past week, and I’d hit the reject button each time. I didn’t have it in me to tell him about the first bad run, and the fact that three times down the mountain had only added to my doubt about my career.
I sat at the top of the slope, watching others carve down the mountain. The back and forth of their boards cutting through the snow calmed me. Hard breathing, cold wind against my cheeks, muscles straining before performing a trick—this was my domain. My home. I’d make this work.
My attention turned to a little kid, maybe ten or so, a few yards from where I sat. A high-pitched shriek came from his mouth as an older guy, probably his dad, tried to comfort him. The boy’s knees visibly shook under his gear, and if I had to guess, I’d say this was his first time going down a pass.
“Jeremy, it’s okay. You’ve mastered the bunny hill, but if you’re not ready for this, we can go back down on the lift,” said the man.
“It’s always scary the first time,” I said, the words coming out of my mouth before I could stop them. It was none of my business if the kid decided to take the lift, but I’d had that same fear—one that my mom had calmed, patiently talking me into giving the trail a fair chance. Behind that kid’s scared-shitless expression, there was a spark, a glimmer of excitement. I saw it, it was there. Hell, maybe I had the same look on my face at the moment.
The kid paused, his mouth gaping open. “Aren’t you Ryder Covington?” When I nodded, a huge smile speared his face. “I begged my parents for a snowboard when I saw you on the X Games last year,” he said.
“Jeremy, is it?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s always going to be something that scares you, but you just need to face it head-on. There’s no such thing as failing.” I unhooked my board and walked over to him. “But if you want a little advice, bend your knees, don’t flail your arms—it’ll put you more off-balance.”
The Rule Maker (Rule Breakers) Page 17
