by Lori Wilde
“Loud and clear.” Ryder rubbed his shoulder, gave Joe a loopy grin to hide the uneasiness sliding through him. Joe was going to be pissed when he found out what he and Katie had been up to behind his back.
“Make a gesture of goodwill,” Joe continued. “Reach out. Take her to lunch. Just the two of you.”
“We’re good. I swear.”
“I insist,” Joe said.
“Gabi put you up to this, didn’t she?” Ryder hitched his thumbs at the waistband of his jeans.
“Yeah.”
“You’re off the hook. You can tell Gabi you had a word with me.”
Joe narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to take Katie to lunch, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Something is going on between you two, and don’t bother denying it. Every time I mention Katie’s name your breath gets shallow and the vein at your jaw jumps.”
“WTF, man? You staring at my jaw veins?”
“It’s your tell.”
“My tell?”
“You know, a physical tic that says you’re suppressing your feelings.” Joe gazed pointedly at Ryder’s jaw.
“I bet it’s jumping now.” Ryder slapped a palm over his jaw.
“Other side.” Joe gestured, laughed.
“Laugh it up, fuzz ball.” This time, Ryder punched Joe’s shoulder.
“So this thing with Katie—” Joe picked up the pitcher of beer the bartender put on the counter while Ryder snagged the four frosted beer mugs to carry back to their table.
The more Joe talked about Katie, the antsier Ryder got. That night in Los Angeles was imprinted in his brain. Thinking about her, about that night, about how he’d like to repeat it again and again, made him feel both guilty and horny as hell. The power of his desire scared him and he was not in the mood to examine why, especially with Joe.
“There is no thing.” Ryder snorted.
“You sure? Because—”
“Tiny Tim coming at you,” Ryder said, as much to derail the topic of conversation as to warn his buddy about the exuberant five-year-old dressed in Dickensian attire, who’d come bursting through the door, running at full speed through the bar, a white walking cane tucked underneath his arm.
Joe leaped out of the way in the nick of time.
Tiny Tim whizzed between them, sending people scattering in all directions. On his tail came Bob Cratchit, hollering for Tiny Tim to get back here right this minute, or he was going to get coal in his Christmas stocking.
“So,” Joe said, picking up the conversation without missing a beat, “if you won’t take Katie to lunch, Gabi is going to insist on having you two over for dinner. She’s not happy unless the people around her are happy.”
“Katie’s happy. I’m happy. See?” Ryder stretched a smile so wide it hurt his face. “Happy, happy, happy.”
“Actually, you look kind of constipated.”
“Look, leave me and Katie alone. We’re fine. F-I-N-E.”
“That’s not what Katie says.”
“What?” Alarm shot through him. “What did Katie say?”
“Gotcha.” Joe pointed a finger. “I knew something was going on between you two.”
“Katie didn’t say anything?”
“No.”
The restaurant sound system was playing “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town,” the same song that had been on the radio the night he and Katie made love, admonished them to be good for goodness’ sake.
Too late for that one. He was at the head of the naughty list.
Joe and Ryder stared at each other, and an odd look crossed Joe’s face, and in that instant Ryder knew his friend had finally put two and two together. “Oh. Oh, I get it, you and Katie . . .”
“There’s no me and Katie.” Ryder made a face. “She’s your sister and she’s your fiancée’s bridesmaid and she’s organizing my dad’s house. That’s the extent of our relationship.”
“Okay then. I’ll tell Gabi everything is under control.” Joe set the pitcher of beer down at their table.
“Good.” Ryder held his breath.
“Great.” Joe stuffed his hands in his front pockets. “Want me to pour you a beer?”
“Never thought you’d ask.”
Joe hovered with the lip of the pitcher over the mug, met Ryder’s eye. “’Cause if there’s a problem between you and Katie, I’ll let you off the hook. Consider yourself unhooked. I can get one of my brothers to be my best man. Just say the word and you’re free. Gabi and me, we got a good thing going here, we don’t need any drama.”
Shit. Ryder could feel the vein in his jaw jumping now. “You think I’d cause trouble?”
“No, but . . .” Joe cleared his throat. “I’m handling this badly. I know coming back to Twilight is a strain for you, and if it’s easier on you to just skip it and go back home, all you have to do is say the word.”
Ryder blew out his breath. “Level with me, Joe. Do you want me out of the wedding?”
“No.”
“Does Gabi?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Joe rested a hand on Ryder’s shoulder, looked him squarely in the eyes. “I love you like a brother. I hope you know that, but you’ve got this lone wolf thing going on. I know that’s part of who you are, and I admire the hell out of your independence.”
“But . . .”
“A wedding is a team effort. You’ve got to be part of the fold, at least for a little while. I know you don’t like this town. I know there’s hard feelings here—”
“And?” Ryder clenched his teeth, his fist, and his pride.
“You need to take a good look in the mirror and decide if Twilight is really where you want to be right now. If it’s not, then walk away. No harm. No foul. No hard feelings.”
Chapter 13
Blindsided.
Ryder felt completely blindsided by what Joe had told him. It stung, and he wasn’t going to pretend it didn’t. Was he too much of a lone wolf to be Joe’s best man?
Hell, he’d been through a damn war, survived his crappy childhood. He’d been part of a team plenty during his eight years in the military. He knew how to come into the fold, as Joe put it, whenever he needed to.
So why was Joe giving him an out?
Dammit. If he were smart, he’d take the out. Jump on his Harley and head back to LA, especially after that oh-so-tender reunion with his father.
Smart choice. Forget all about Twilight and the people in it. He’d almost convinced himself that was what he was going to do, but then Katie and Gabi came back from the ladies’ room.
He was sitting at the table across from her, sipping beer and pondering his options, and he could see his own dismal reflection in her lively brown eyes.
She telegraphed him the most brilliant smile, like the sun coming out after a season of monsoon rains, and he thought, No, not gonna do it. Not gonna run away from that smile.
Joe was right. Despite his military service, he wasn’t good in groups, and he did keep people at arm’s length, even his old army buddies. He was afraid of getting sucked in. Of getting too invested. Of getting hurt.
Shit. That sounded cowardly.
Was he a coward when it came to intimate relationships? He’d never been engaged. Not even close. The longest he’d had a steady girlfriend was eight months, and she’d broken things off because he wouldn’t commit. The longest friendship he’d ever had was with Joe, and he hadn’t seen him in two years.
Wow. The epiphany struck him like a two-by-four upside the head.
What kind of person was he? Closed off. Isolated. A hard nut no one bothered to crack.
Lonely.
Yes, he prized his independence. Had been damn proud of the fact that he didn’t need anyone. Self-reliant. Autonomous. Free.
But he now saw a long path stretching into the future where he became more and more cut off from people, grew less and less capable of loving someone.
What were the lyrics to that s
ong? Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose?
It pulled him up short. What was he in the process of becoming? Did he want to be that person?
He knew at once what he was going to become if he left town now.
Fuckstick.
He would turn into Jax. He’d be like that ornery old man in the hospital bed. Shut down. Dug in. Entrenched. Unable to forgive or see beyond his own nose because he was too afraid to acknowledge he’d been wrong.
If he stayed here in Twilight, and tried to sort things out with his father, no matter how hard that might be, and deepened his relationship with Joe, and with Katie, how would that change him?
A thrill rose up inside him, a kid on Christmas morning kind of thrill. And he knew then what he wanted. Had wanted it since last Christmas when he’d taken Katie to bed.
He wanted her. He couldn’t fully define what that meant. Not yet. But he wanted her. Damn, how much he wanted her.
Katie’s gaze was hot on his face. Those eager eyes that moved him in ways he had not ever been moved before.
Ryder gulped. If he stayed, what personal dragons would he have to slay? Bigger question. Was he up to the challenge?
He had two choices. Stay and see this through. Or bow out. This was his opportunity to leave Twilight, and his father, and his past behind forever. All he had to do was go.
But that meant letting go of his friendship with Joe. That also meant leaving Katie behind.
Briefly, he closed his eyes, unable to bear the intensity of her stare. He would be around her a great deal over the next few weeks, during the most romantic time of year. Was he truly prepared for that much closeness?
Do or die, Southerland. Do or die.
He opened his eyes, glanced over at Joe.
Ryder had never been fully committed to anything but the army, certainly not a person. But he was all in. His poker chips stacked in the middle of the table for the taking. He’d reached the point of no return. He was invested. Committed. To being Joe’s best man, to mending fences with his father, to seeing where this thing with Katie could lead.
“Something you need to say, buddy?” Joe asked, his question heavy with innuendo.
“Yes,” Ryder said.
Every eye at the table was trained on him as if they all knew there was weight in whatever he was going to say next.
“What’s that?” Joe pressed his lips closed.
“When and where do I go to get fitted for my tux?”
“Who wants to play trivia?” Katie asked, once they’d eaten hamburgers and were finishing off the pitcher of beer.
Ryder seemed so intense, and after the miserable visit he’d had with his father, she was anxious to lighten his mood. Mindless pub trivia might be fun. The man could use some fun in his life.
She reached for the controller sitting in a charging dock in the middle of the table, which was used to answer the questions appearing on the computer monitors mounted throughout the pub, and tried not to feel shaky.
She felt as if Ryder had just made a monumental decision of some kind, but she could not pinpoint why she felt that way, other than there was a shift in him. His smile seemed lighter, while the look he gave her had more heft to it. His expression sent a shiver rocking up each bone of her spine.
Perhaps she was imagining it. Or projecting. Her feelings for him had deepened, so she assumed his had too? Not smart to assume. Not smart at all.
Gabi took a sip of beer and told Ryder, “Katie is a trivia fiend. You’ll win if you’re on her team, but don’t play against her.”
Katie leveled her gaze at Ryder. “Well?”
“Can’t,” he said. “My head’s Swiss cheese when it comes to fun facts.”
“Or anything fun for that matter,” she quipped.
“Boo-yah.” Joe laughed. “Skewered.”
“Remind me again why I’m hanging out with you, cheeky Cheeks?” Ryder grinned.
“Because they’re awesome,” Gabi said.
“You’re too serious, Southerland.” Joe poked him in the ribs. “Lighten up. Jump in with both feet and let my kid sister mop the floor with you.”
Ryder snapped his fingers at Katie. “Gimme.”
“You’re going to play?” She giggled.
“If you give me the controller.”
“It’s all yours.” She slapped the controller into his palms, her fingertips accidentally brushing over his skin in the process.
His nostrils flared as if he’d caught a whiff of her lime and lavender cologne, and he blurted, “You smell edible.”
“You think this is good, wait until you get a whiff of the Christmas scent I’m wearing to the wedding,” Katie said. “Smells like chocolate chip cookies.”
“Mmm,” he said, lowering his eyelashes and licking his lips. “Can’t wait.”
Not her imagination. He’d come to some conclusion about her. Katie just wished she knew what it was.
“Log in,” she directed.
“Huh?” His eyes were latched on to hers.
“For the trivia. You need a username.”
“Oh yeah. Right.” He punched letters into the controller’s keypad. On the TV monitor popped up the username Wasabi.
Katie’s cheeks heated.
“Wasabi?” Joe said. “What the hell kind of username is that?”
“Katie’s allergic to wasabi,” Gabi said. “She found that out when she was in LA after we swapped houses last year.”
“Did she now?” Ryder drawled, his voice thick and sultry.
Katie stared at him, into him, and felt her body loosen and sway. Hush! She sent him a mental chastisement with her eyes. Hush or they’ll figure out something went on between us last year.
“She did,” Gabi chattered away. “She was at a charity gala with my invitation, and some woman accidentally spilled it down the front of her dress and Katie got this massive rash from it.”
“You don’t say.” Ryder never took his eyes from Katie’s face. His smile was wickedly conspiratorial.
“Truth. Right, Kate?” Gabi bobbed her head. “She was still broken out when she got home.”
“Truth,” Katie murmured, her mouth gone excessively dry. She took a sip of beer. It didn’t help, so she took another one.
“You guys doing all right?” their busty waitress asked.
“Yes,” Gabi said. “But bring another a pitcher. We’re celebrating.” She raised a hand to indicate Ryder. “An old friend has come to town.”
“And a good-looking friend he is too.” The waitress lowered her eyes, and lobbed Ryder a come-hither stare.
Katie took another sip of beer to wash down her jealousy. She had no claims on Ryder, none at all. She was the one who made it clear their sexual relationship was a one-time thing.
Ryder leaned closer to her, churning her senses and lifting her hopes. He looked straight at her. Not even a passing glance at the attractive waitress. And underneath the table, his knees touched hers, and he did not move them away.
Boom-boom went her heart. Whoosh sailed her hot blood through her veins. Thrillfest!
Oh God, he was driving her crazy. Right smack-dab around the bend.
“So,” Ryder said. “What do I get if I win?”
“You won’t win,” she assured him. “My house and my life might be tidy, but my mind is an attic stuffed full of trivial information.”
“That’s because you’re such a bookworm. Since you’re so brilliant, and I’m trivia impaired, I think a handicap is in order.”
“All right,” she said. “You get ten points added to your final score.”
“Fifty.”
“Twenty-five.”
“Done.”
He reached out his hand, and she shook it, and felt a million blessedly wonderful electrifying things.
“Now,” he said, rubbing his palms together. “What do I get if I win?”
“I’ll pay for your meal.”
He considered it a moment, shook his head. “Nah. I can pay for my own
meal. Let’s go for something a little more creative.”
“What do you want?” she asked, suspicious of the possibilities.
“Hmm.” He tapped his fingers on that rock-hard chin of his. “How about you make me a home-cooked meal?”
Joe made choking noises. “You’re taking your life in your own hands, buddy. This one here can’t boil water without burning it.”
“I’ll take my chances.” Ryder’s gaze didn’t budge from her face.
“You always did like to live dangerously.” Joe topped off everyone’s mug with fresh pitcher of beer the waitress brought back.
“Cooking makes a mess,” Katie said.
“And she hates anything messy,” Gabi told Ryder.
“I’ll wash the dishes afterward,” Ryder offered. “Home-cooked meal? That on the table?”
“Since I’m not going to lose, okay,” Katie said.
“Don’t you get it? With Katie’s cooking, even if you win you lose,” Joe pointed out.
“I believe she’s up to the challenge.” Ryder peered into her eyes.
“The man is living in a fantasy world,” Joe whispered to Gabi.
Katie gulped, but didn’t drop Ryder’s gaze. She could handle the heat. “What do I get if I win?”
“A ride on my Harley.”
“Who says I want one?”
“You used to beg me for a ride when you were fifteen.”
“That was a long time ago,” she said.
“You still want it.” His green eyes lit like flames, singeing her from the inside out.
She did. Oh yes indeed. She wanted to straddle that big machine, strap her arms tight around his lean waist and rest her head against his broad shoulders and fly down the highway with a hot engine pulsing between her legs.
“It’s December. Too cold for a motorcycle ride,” she said.
“Not if you have the right gear.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t. Have the right gear, that is.”
“Sure you do. I’ll fix you up. That is, if you win.”
“How about you stop talking and let’s get to it?” Katie challenged and waved at the monitors throughout the bar displaying the startup screen for the next game. “We’re live.”
