Ryder's Bride (Brides Bay Book 1)

by V. K. Sykes

  “You certainly will. Time is getting tight, Claire,” Elsie said sternly.

  Now Claire felt like sticking her tongue out at the mayor. “I know, Elsie. I’m doing the best I can.”

  Conrad thanked her for the update and moved on with the agenda. Fifteen minutes later, he called a break for coffee. Ry headed over to the urn, filled a paper cup, and gave her a flick of his head to indicate that he wanted her to follow him out of the room.

  Claire got up slowly, her stomach pulling into a nasty little twist. She still had no idea what to say to him. Let’s pretend last night never happened? That would be utterly stupid. Ry had totally rocked her world with just one little kiss.

  Well, actually one big and extremely hot kiss.

  She followed him outside the center’s front doors where he leaned against one of the brick walls, looking like a poster boy for badass guys. His jeans rode low on his hips, and a tight, white T-shirt with high-cut sleeves emphasized every perfect muscle from his shoulders to his abs. He looked totally relaxed and well rested, his eyes clear and his mouth lifted in a slight, friendly smile. Apparently for him there’d been no lying awake tossing and turning with frustrated lust.

  Claire, on the other hand, still felt like a wreck. She probably looked like one too.

  It doesn’t matter—he’s not interested, remember?

  She found some shade from the building and managed to stay several feet away from him. “Thanks for volunteering for the softball tournament.”

  He took a slow sip of coffee before answering. “No problem. I like the game and I like working with kids.”

  “They’ll be thrilled to see you, I’m sure. You being a celebrity and all.” She barely caught herself from wincing at her clumsy reply.

  He eased away from the wall and closed the gap between them, forcing Claire to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. Her heart started to pound. Somehow, his gaze always looked intense, even when his brawny body signaled he was completely relaxed.

  “Look, I didn’t want to mention this in the meeting,” he said. “I figured it might sound like I…oh, I don’t know, like I think I’m some kind of big shot or something.”

  She was caught off guard by that. “Uh, mention what?”

  “That Cole Ford is a friend of mine.”

  It certainly wasn’t the topic she’d been expecting, so it took her a moment to catch up. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, we’ve hung out some. He’s a huge hockey fan, and I like his music a lot. We even jammed a couple of times at his house in Brooklyn.”

  She grabbed his tattooed forearm and got a jolt at the feel of all that hard muscle. Then she managed to return her focus to the issue at hand. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  He smiled. “I’d be happy to give him a call. I’d imagine Cole’s agent isn’t getting back to you because he doesn’t think a star should bother with a little place like Brides Bay. But I’m sure I can get through to Cole directly.”

  She wanted to jump all over him with gratitude.

  Yeah, gratitude—sure, that’s it.

  She forced herself to take a step back as she gave him a broad smile. For a guy who didn’t want to get involved, he was jumping into the festival with both feet. “It really would be a lifesaver for us if you could get him to come.”

  “Sure. I can’t guarantee it though. Obviously.”

  “No, but at least there’s nothing on his web page calendar at this point.” She could barely contain her excitement. “Ry, the committee will be over the moon if you can pull this off.”

  He was quiet for a few moments before he spoke again. “Good, but I’m not doing it for the committee or the festival. I’m doing it for you.”

  Her heart went straight up into her throat. Was he reconsidering his words to her last night—his warning that he didn’t get involved?

  “After what happened last night,” he added, “I figure I owe you.”

  Beautiful balloon deflating fast…

  She cleared her throat. “Ry, you don’t owe—”

  “Yeah, I do,” he interrupted. “I messed up. I let myself do something by instinct instead of using my head.”

  “Yes, so you said last night. Don’t waste any more time thinking about it.” She said it as matter-of-factly as she could. It was stupid to feel hurt, since she’d arrived at the same conclusion.

  He tossed his cup in a trashcan and took another step forward. When he gently curled his big hands around her shoulders, she went a little lightheaded. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it—about you—all night. Kissing you wasn’t right, and I’m having a damn hard time stopping myself from doing it again right here, right now.”

  Oh, my God, do it.

  Claire mentally slapped that thought out of her head. “Hey, we already decided it was a bad idea for a whole lot of reasons, right? Besides, enough people in this town already think we’re involved. Let’s not pour any more fuel on that fire by making out like hormonal teenagers at the community center.”

  Even though making out was exactly what she wanted to do. She wanted to tell him she could handle whatever he was able to give her, even if it was only one night or one week or one month. He wanted her—he’d just made that clear. But he wouldn’t do anything about it because he didn’t want to hurt her.

  If only she could get out of her own way and tell him to stop worrying about that. And tell herself to stop worrying about what might happen once it ended between them, which it surely would. In fact, she wanted to be able to quit worrying about everything under the sun. Worrying was what she did every damn day of her life, and she was sick of it.

  Remember Heartbreak Hotel? Remember everything you’ve been through these last few years?

  Something shifted behind his eyes as he studied her. Then he let his hands drop from her shoulders. “Okay, I guess we’re back on track then. You work for me when I need your services, and you’ll let me know what you need me to do for the festival.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wish we could do it. I truly do.”

  He shook his head. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  She hated ending the discussion on such a crappy note. “What about our barter arrangement? I’d really like to be able to play a little better in time for the festival, and I’m still eager to work with Stanley. But only if you’re okay with it, of course,” she hastily added, thrown by his closed-off expression. “But maybe you think we shouldn’t be spending that much time together. What with all the temptation, I mean, and me being such a femme fatale.”

  That did the trick, because he laughed. “I’m sure we can control ourselves, despite the clear and present danger.”

  She heard a couple of taps on the door and glanced behind her to see the mayor waving at them to come back inside. Elsie’s troubled expression made Claire’s radar go on full alert.

  “Of course we can,” she said to Ry before heading to the door.

  What a joke that was. She’d never felt less in control of anything in her life.

  * * *

  Ry wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed that she’d backed away from him again.

  Disappointed, dude, and you know it.

  He was starting to get used to it.

  “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news, folks,” Elsie said as soon as he and Claire sat back down in the meeting room. “I might as well tell you now before you hear it on the grapevine. At least that way you’ll know it’s not just another rumor swirling around town.”

  From Claire’s worried expression, he got the feeling she might have a good idea what the mayor was about to drop on them. Most of the other people looked anxious too. He felt like the only one in the room who had no idea what was going on.

  The mayor’s eyes narrowed as she stared straight across at him.

  “I just got a call from my source inside the PIHA Board of Directors,” Elsie said. “She said the board held a meeting today and decided to move forward with
plans to close off the island to visitors. She was the only one to vote against it. The other four were all in favor of putting up a gate at the end of the bridge.”

  Before Ry bought the house, Derek had briefly mentioned that some residents wanted the island to become a gated community. A lot of the property owners were fed up with tourists and day-trippers traipsing around Promise, gawking and taking pictures of the luxury homes and sometimes even barging onto people’s properties. He remembered thinking at the time that it in light of those problems, it might not be a bad idea to restrict access somehow. As far as he was concerned, there was no such thing as too much privacy.

  But the gate idea hadn’t crossed his mind since.

  “Oh, shi—,” Anson Dunn bit off a curse when he caught the mayor’s thunderous expression of disapproval. “I mean, shoot, that really sucks. I’ve gone hiking and swimming on that island my whole life. We never had a problem as long as we didn’t raid the gardens or get the dogs barking like crazy.” He shook his head. “Everything on Promise started going to hell after the Austin family sold off that huge chunk of their properties to the first CFAs. And it gets worse every year with more of them coming up here.”

  Suddenly, several sets of accusing eyes were pointed Ry’s way. “On that note, maybe I should leave,” he said, starting to rise.

  “No, please don’t go.” Claire turned to glare at the big boat captain. “Anson, you shouldn’t tar everyone on Promise with the same brush. It’s not fair, and it’s rude. Several island people have told me that they don’t want to have to practically show a passport every time they cross the bridge.”

  Unfortunately, her attempt at a joke did nothing to lighten the mood.

  “Well, speaking of the bridge,” the mayor said, “the PIHA has offered to split the maintenance costs with the county to get them onside for the move. And it sounds like the county politicians like that idea. I must say I’m very upset that no one in the administration called to speak with me before cooking up a deal like that.”

  “I guess all the rumors were true, then,” Cassidy said. “So what can we do about it, Elsie? Blockade the bridge?”

  Though Cassidy didn’t really sound serious, Ry had a vision of dozens of protesters linking arms and stranding everybody who lived on Promise. Yeah, the sheriff’s office would break up anything like that soon enough, and the PIHA would get a court injunction to stop such tactics if necessary. But the last thing he wanted was some kind of ugly confrontation with the townsfolk. He’d come to Brides Bay because Derek assured him it was so laid back as to be almost comatose. He’d had enough conflict in his life and sure as hell didn’t need to move to a backwater town to get involved in more of it.

  “A blockade’s a possibility,” Anson said. “Some of them could still get to the mainland in their boats though, so we’d have to set up a flotilla around the island too. I doubt that would be a problem. Not too many fishermen around here would say no to a chance to rub a little sandpaper over those rich guys’ asses.”

  “Ouch,” Ry said drily. “I can already feel the skin coming off mine.”

  Claire scowled. “Anson, are you out of your mind? All that would do is drive a big wedge between the island and the town. I’m sure we’ll have a lot better chance of getting what we want by persuasion, not by threats and blockades. And don’t forget how many people rely on island clients for business. Without mine, Meg and I would be up the creek, and so would a lot of other folks around here.”

  “Well, there’s at least one of those islanders you shouldn’t have any problem persuading,” Anson said, sneering.

  Ry slowly rose. “Well, you’re a big guy with an even bigger mouth, aren’t you? I suggest you think very carefully about what comes out of it next.”

  Anson was on his feet in a second. “I’m shaking in my boots, superstar. Want to take it outside right now?”

  “You don’t want to even think about going there, friend. Trust me on that,” Ry said. On the ice, he’d taken on the biggest enforcers in the game. While Anson was a big guy, he likely wouldn’t present a problem.

  Unless my knee gave out.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Claire said in a disgusted voice. “Sit down, you two, and put all that stupid testosterone right back where it belongs.”

  “Yes, please stop acting like foolish boys,” Conrad said in a severe tone. “Anson, what you just implied about Claire was beneath you. Your mother would be ashamed of you, I can tell you that.” Ignoring Anson as he started to mutter an apology, Conrad shifted his attention to Ry. “As for you, sir, let me make it clear that in Brides Bay we solve our problems by talking, not by brawling. While I can understand that you would take offense, that’s no excuse.”

  Ry was already regretting his outburst, mostly because it had obviously embarrassed Claire. “You’re absolutely right, sir, and I apologize to everyone. But while I’m sorry to have upset the meeting, I won’t allow anyone to disrespect Claire.”

  Anson lowered himself back down in his chair but still glared daggers at him.

  “And now,” Ry said, “I really think it’s best for me to go.” With a nod to Claire, he grabbed his helmet and strode quickly out of the room.

  Chapter 10

  Claire headed into the kitchen for her second cup of coffee of the morning. She liked painting early in the day. After a good night’s rest, her energy level was at its peak. Unfortunately, a good night’s rest hadn’t been on the agenda for the past few days. Not since Sunday’s epically disastrous meeting of the festival organizing committee.

  Coffee in hand, she went back to her studio, the second bedroom in her small apartment. She took a long look at what she’d just painted—Brides Bay, as seen from Ry’s vantage point on the bluffs. After a lot of thought, she’d decided to paint the same scene at the Lobster Festival’s quick draw contest. She’d started mapping out a plan that would enable her to reproduce the beloved landscape in lightning fashion and yet be able to impart the depth of her emotions onto the canvas.

  Claire so wanted to win the annual competition. She’d been the runner-up three years in a row, and this time she was determined to be the bride, not the bridesmaid.

  Under the contest rules, she had only two hours to complete the painting. At Ry’s place, it had taken her most of the day to paint the same scene, and she’d worked steadily for hours, her heart soaring as she inhaled the tangy scents and comforting natural sounds of the bay.

  Thinking about her old house and its new owner now had her breathing out a sigh. She hadn’t spoken to Ry since he stalked out of the meeting after the dust-up with Anson. She’d left a message on his voice mail later that afternoon apologizing for her old friend’s behavior, but she wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t returned her call. He was just being himself, after all—a loner. He didn’t like what happened at the committee meeting so he’d retreated back into his island cocoon.

  Continuing to leave him alone seemed like the best—and the safest—course of action. She and Meg often went long stretches without seeing their clients face to face. They communicated with them by email or text and got paid by check or PayPal. If Ry never wanted to lay eyes on her again, he’d have little trouble doing just that.

  For a number of reasons, she hoped like crazy that wasn’t the decision he was going to make. All of them seemed, at this point, entirely selfish on her part.

  Her phone vibrated in the pocket of her jeans. She pulled it out and checked the display. Private caller.

  “Brides Bay Concierges.” She tried to sound calm and collected even though her T-shirt suddenly felt like a straightjacket.

  “Hey, how are you?” Ry said in that deep voice that always sounded like he’d just got out of bed after a bout of hot sex.

  She almost felt faint with relief. “I’m good, thanks. Busy, like always.”

  “Too busy to talk a minute?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

  “I’m never too busy to talk to my clients.” Stop trying to act so co
ol, Claire. You’re not fooling anyone. “I hope you got my voice mail message.”

  “That’s why I called.”

  “Everyone was embarrassed by how Anson acted. I think he was too, especially after I gave him hell for it.”

  “PamTam filled me in when they were here cleaning yesterday. Tammy said she told the guy she’d run him over with her Harley if he ever shot his mouth off like that again.” Ry chuckled. “I think she might have been serious. Remind me never to cross that woman.”

  “Nobody messes with their clients,” Claire said, slinking down onto the slouchy but comfortable old armchair by her easel.

  “Yeah, well, I could have handled it better too. Man, if I’d dropped my gloves every time some asshole trash talked me on the ice, I’d have spent my whole career in the penalty box.”

  Claire felt her tense shoulders come down from around her ears. “Well, you certainly aren’t in the penalty box in this town. Anson might be there for a while, even though he did apologize to me the day after the meeting.”

  “I was going to ask about that. It would really have pissed me off if he hadn’t.”

  “Don’t worry about it. The big A and I have known each other since we were little kids. We learned a long time ago not to take to heart every single thing that might come out of our mouths.”

  “So, you figure it’s safe for me to show my face again in Spy Hill?”

  Claire laughed. “So when did the big, tough hockey player turn into such a drama queen? I said you weren’t in the penalty box, didn’t I?”

  “That’s good, because I’d like to start that exchange of lessons we’d agreed on. Whenever you’re up for it.”

  Her heart jolted against her ribs. “Sure. Just name the time and place and I’ll be there.”

  * * *

  Ry had suggested his house for Stanley’s first lesson, but Claire had come up with a better idea. That was why he was currently parked in front of the Brew and Fudgery, a name that struck him as a little ridiculous. Was fudgery even a real word?