Ryder's Bride (Brides Bay Book 1)

by V. K. Sykes

  “What are you getting at, Ry?”

  “Just that I’ve decided to do what I can to make sure Promise Island is never ruined.”

  Had she heard him right? “Are you saying you’re going to go up against Carling Middleton and her buddies over the gate proposal?”

  “Damn right I am, and so are Derek and Jane.” He gave her a crooked grin. “And you know Jane can be very persuasive when she decides to kick ass.”

  She grabbed both of his arms. “Oh, my God, that’s amazing. I’m sure you had something to do with that, didn’t you?”

  He gave a little shrug. “We’re all in agreement that we’ll do our best to shoot down that dumb proposal.”

  Claire wanted to dance a little jig. “Thank you, Ry. Thank you so much. I don’t think some people on Promise Island realize just how badly it could sour relations with the town if they went ahead with that plan.”

  “And soured relations is the last thing I want to see happen.” He dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head. “Especially since I’m planning on sticking around here for the foreseeable future.”

  Claire’s heart started to thud like crazy. Would he really make Brides Bay his permanent home? And if so, where would she fit into the equation?

  “You’d better,” she croaked, trying to lighten it up. “Meg and I need the business.”

  He grinned. “Plus you don’t want to lose your guitar player, right?”

  “That too. We’re practically the talk of the town these days.”

  “Well, now that we’ve got our priorities straight, I’ve got some other news you might be interested in.” He turned them back to face the view, one arm still around her shoulders.

  “More surprises? I’m listening intently.”

  “I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about the architect’s ideas for my new house.”

  When her fists suddenly clenched, Claire exhaled slowly and forced her fingers open. “And?”

  “I was never happy about any of them, and I finally realized the real reason why not. It’s because I don’t need or want anything like the kind of big barns the guy was coming up with. In fact, I don’t really need anything more than what I’ve already got.”

  Claire swung around to look straight at him, grabbing the edges of his leather jacket. “You don’t?”

  His dark gaze glittered with amusement. “Okay, the place could use a fair bit of work. Maybe an addition. Definitely a new kitchen. But I don’t want any kind of mansion. When it comes right down to it, I’m just not that kind of guy and never have been. And I’m not going to worry about resale value or any of that crap either. All I want is to live in a house that suits me and makes me comfortable. As for resale, I figure the future will take care of itself.”

  Relief and joy flooded through her, making it hard to talk past all the emotion. “You can’t imagine how happy that makes me. I know it was stupid to get so worked up about an old house, but…”

  Ry cupped her cheek. “It wasn’t stupid, honey. You always thought the house was worth preserving, and I think I did too. I got stuck on the idea of it as an investment, when I should have been thinking of it as the place where I would put down roots.”

  That was so awesome. But he still hadn’t talked about her…about them.

  “I like that word roots a lot,” she said.

  “Yeah, I thought you might. And there’s one more thing.”

  “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

  “Well, I was hoping you could help me figure out the renovations. Everything we need to do to whip the old place into shape.”

  Wow. “That would be yet another service Brides Bay Concierges would be extremely happy to provide,” she said, smiling up at him.

  His eyebrows tilted down in an almost comical line. “Claire, I wasn’t thinking of that part in terms of a business relationship. I want you to spend a lot of time at my place, and not just when I’m out of town. An awful lot of time.”

  God, yes.

  She forced herself not to blurt out an answer. Was he just going to keep ignoring the elephant still standing here beside them—the one that had cratered their relationship? Because in spite of all the welcome words he’d just spoken, it still loomed between them, big and scary, and was waiting to trash them again.

  * * *

  Claire’s face had lit up when he told her he was staying in Brides Bay. And she’d practically vibrated with joy to hear he was abandoning plans to bulldoze her old house. It was all good, especially the idea that she was going to help him plan and execute the renovations.

  But there was one more obstacle between them, and they both knew it had to be confronted. When she took a long glance at the bike, he knew it was time.

  He braced himself.

  “Yes, but there’s an elephant here with us, and he’s perched on that big, old motorcycle,” Claire said, nodding at the Harley.

  “Then I guess we’d better kick him the hell off before he squashes it.”

  She didn’t laugh. “Ry, you said you’ve spent a lot of time thinking since last weekend. Well, so have I—among other things, about motorcycles and such.”

  “Okay, and?”

  “And I’d like to try to deal with my fears on that, if you’re willing to let me.” She glanced again at the Harley. “I don’t mean just jumping on the back of that thing like I did today—as much as that was a good place to start.”

  “It was a great place to start. A real step forward, Claire.”

  “Yes, but I realize that riding motorcycles is…well, I know it’s way more than just a pastime for you. It’s your passion, and it’s very a big part of who you are. You’ve loved bikes all your life. You’ve been a high performance athlete all your life too, so it’s not surprising that you love to still compete through racing. And I know I can’t change that. I don’t want to even try to change it. You love it deeply, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  He had to repress the impulse to laugh with joy and sweep her into his arms. This moment was far too serious for anything like that. “Claire, are you really sure?”

  “As sure as I can be,” she said, her gaze solemn. “If you give me a chance, I promise I’ll try as hard as I can to handle it. My mother was able to live with the fact that the man she loved put his life on the line every time he headed out to sea in his lobster boat. The way my dad earned his living was more dangerous than sportbike racing, so I should be able to damn well suck it up and deal with what you do. What you need to do to be whole. To be Ryder Griffin.”

  “Babe.” Ry grasped her shoulders and pulled her up on her toes, kissing her with all the pent up desire and love he had for her. She was like heaven in his arms.

  Then he let her sink back on her heels, pressing deep, lingering kisses on her the whole way down. When they finally separated, her lips were pink and damp and her eyes were shining with happiness. He totally got it, because he’d never been happier than he was right now.

  “You have some serious game, Maddox,” he said. “Thank you. Thank you for getting me.”

  “No, you were the one who really stepped it up,” she said. “Committing to Brides Bay, giving up your plans for a new house, taking on the PIHA over the gate—I think all that must have had a little something to do with wanting to be with me, right?”

  He grinned. “You think?”

  She slid her arms around his neck, pressing against him. “Then we’ve both got promises to keep, don’t we?”

  He let out a ghost of a laugh, cradling her body against his. It was all he could do not to drag her down and make lust-filled love to her—right there on the windswept beach, with what felt like the entire world on the horizon.

  He’d come here prepared to say he’d try to stop racing, for her sake. The emptiness of his life without Claire had shown him how truly important she was to him. And his sister had opened his eyes to his responsibility to his family, a family he now finally had, thanks to Claire and Samantha. He was prepared to take some
risks but no longer wanted to do anything she considered reckless or overly dangerous.

  “You know what?” he said. “I won’t be racing forever, and I’ll definitely cut back on the number of events. And, look, if you find you still can’t handle it, then we’ll figure things out together. Because if it ever had to come down to a choice, Claire, racing would come in a distant second to you.”

  Claire startled to sniffle. “Thank you so much for not minimizing my fears. I can’t tell you what that means to me.”

  His heart clenching, he pressed his lips to her forehead and then to her trembling mouth. “Don’t cry, babe—it’s all good. We’re going to be fine. I know it.”

  She brought her hands to his cheeks and came up on her toes, looking him right in the eye. “I love you, Ry. I knew you were the man for me the moment you handed me that wrench and we saved the ice sculpture together.”

  “Then thank God my granddad taught me to always keep my tools handy. Because I love you too, Claire.” He had to stop and clear his throat, even though he couldn’t resist making a joke. “And, by the way, I haven’t even begun to show you everything in my special toolbox.”

  Like the seagulls, their laughter rose high and winged out over the glittering waters of Brides Bay.

  Epilogue

  Four weeks later

  The meeting room at St. Peter’s Church in Spy Hill buzzed with quiet tension. Perched on the edge of a folding metal chair, Claire gripped Ry’s hand and kept studying Carling Middleton’s stone-cold features for any sign of how the vote had turned out. Seated on the dais and flanked by the other four members of the PIHA executive board, Middleton stared straight out at the audience of thirty-five island residents.

  Well, there were actually thirty-four island residents, to be exact. Claire didn’t include herself among them yet, despite having spent almost every night for the past four weeks at Ry’s house. She’d even moved some clothes into his closet, which was getting pretty close to resident status as far as she was concerned. Ry had made it clear in both word and deed that he wanted her in his bed every night, and she certainly wasn’t about to protest. Her problem was that she never wanted to get out of bed when she was with him.

  It had been an amazing month. Nothing could have prepared her for the deep, quiet satisfaction of waking up next to the man she loved, and then softly padding down the familiar stairs of her old house, Stanley in tow, to make coffee. Cup in hand, she’d head to the living room and gaze out as the sun slowly rose over her beloved bay. The fact that the house was going to be renovated, not bulldozed, still seemed like a miracle of epic proportions.

  The biggest miracle of all was that Ry told her every day that he loved her. And Claire had told him every day that she loved him even more. That silly little competition gave them a laugh but also underscored the joy that had changed her life.

  And she was actually making progress with her phobia. She’d managed three more short trips on the back of the Harley and had shocked herself by taking a slightly wobbly circuit around the property on his smallest motorbike. Maybe because that smooth little engine sounded nothing like the deafening roar she was accustomed to from the Harley—or the motorcycle that had hurtled into her and Julie—she’d found it to be…well, kind of fun.

  Even more importantly, she’d held it together last weekend when he was off at his first post-accident race. She hadn’t gone with him to Massachusetts. He hadn’t asked, clearly knowing she wasn’t ready for that kind of pressure. But while he was gone, she hadn’t cowered indoors with Stanley either. Every time tendrils of panic started to crawl over her skin, she’d taken the dog for a long walk or hauled her easel out to the bluffs to paint.

  Mostly, she’d tried to be mindful of all the blessings in her life. So far, it seemed to be working.

  “Looks like they’re getting ready,” Ry murmured in her ear.

  It was going to be an exciting night no matter what happened with the vote. Ry had suggested—insisted, really—that they drive to Portland right after the vote was announced. He’d booked a suite at the Danforth Inn and made reservations for a late dinner at her favorite seafood restaurant, DeMillo’s. His logic was that they’d either need to celebrate the victory or try to have fun and not think about the defeat. She was totally down with that plan. Stanley was staying with Meg, and their overnight bags were packed and waiting in Ry’s truck.

  Only Promise Island residents had been invited to this special meeting where the results of the vote on the gating proposal would be revealed. At least two hundred other people milled around in the church courtyard though. Beth Brocklebank, barred from covering the meeting despite her vigorous protests about “press freedom,” had parked herself on the steps of the church hall, camera in hand. Pam and Tammy were there too, along with Meg, Cassidy, Anson, the three Pierce brothers, Sylvie, and dozens of other friends. They were all keeping their fingers crossed that the anti-gating campaign led by Ry, Derek, and Jane and a couple of other Promise Island residents would prove successful. Claire’s mom had wanted to come but hadn’t been able to switch shifts at the diner.

  When Middleton cleared her throat, the room went instantly silent. Ry squeezed Claire’s hand. “No matter what happens, you and I are good, right?” he said.

  “No matter what,” she whispered. “I love you to the moon and back.”

  “You’d better,” he said with a grin.

  “Thank you all for coming out this evening,” Middleton said, looking regal in a blue suit with a high collar. “As everyone knows, your PIHA executive believed the time had come to do something to ensure that island residents are able to enjoy the kind of privacy we want and deserve. Our proposal for a gated community was not one we made lightly, but it was one we deeply believed to be in the best interests of our homeowners. Of course, we also expected that it would likely engender opposition and even some hostility around Brides Bay, and it did.”

  “You got that part right,” Ry muttered.

  “What we didn’t count on,” Middleton continued, “was the level of opposition we encountered from within our own members.” She stared daggers at Ry and Claire. Derek and Jane were sitting directly behind them, so the laser glare was probably hitting them too. “We certainly didn’t want to see the residents of our lovely island divided on the issue.”

  Murmurs of agreement spread around the room.

  “Unfortunately, that’s exactly what happened,” Middleton added in a grumpy tone.

  At that moment, Claire was pretty confident that the gate proposal had been defeated. The president would surely have declared victory by now if the results had gone her way.

  “In any case,” Middleton said, “I’m sorry to say that when all the votes were counted, the proposal to restrict entry onto the island failed to receive majority support.”

  His face impassive, Ry squeezed Claire’s hand again. They both knew it was best not to crow about the victory.

  “The executive therefore considers this particular matter closed,” the president said. “However, you can rest assured that we will continue to look into all possible ways to make the island more secure. We will do whatever it takes to protect the privacy of our neighbors and ourselves.”

  “What were the actual numbers, Carling?” a man near the back asked in a loud voice. “Was it close?”

  “It couldn’t have been any closer, Arthur. There were twenty votes in favor and twenty-one against.”

  “Wow,” Ry said softly. “We only made it by one lousy vote.”

  “One is all it takes,” Claire said. “And she just said the gate issue is closed, so let’s be happy.”

  “Hell, I’m super happy. But I’ll be even happier when I have you all to myself tonight in the city.” He gave her a lecherous look and then stood, pulling her up with him.

  They’d agreed earlier to leave the meeting as soon as the vote was announced. Claire wanted to be the one to break the news to her people outside, good or bad.

  They hurried
to the door, followed by Jane and Derek. Ry pushed the glass doors open and held them as he stepped aside to let Claire through first. As soon as she set foot on the steps, she gave the crowd a grin and a thumbs-up sign.

  An enormous cheer erupted.

  “We did it!” Pam yelled, pumping her fist. “Thank you, oh tiny baby Jesus!”

  “Friends, let us thank the Lord for his blessings,” Father Daniel intoned from the steps, giving Pam the hairy eyeball. Apparently chastised, Pam quickly sketched the sign of the cross.

  “I guess those folks didn’t want more blockades, did they?” Anson gloated.

  Claire gave her buddy a stern look. “Anson, I’ll tell you what made the difference, and it certainly wasn’t any blockade. The difference was these three people right here—Ry Griffin, and Derek and Jane Mallory. They worked their butts off to convince people that it would be a big step backward to close off the island. They talked at least seven islanders into withdrawing their support for the gate. And trust me, without that, the result would have gone the other way. The proposal lost by just a single vote, folks. One vote.”

  The crowd collectively sucked in a startled breath.

  “Well, then we owe you a debt of thanks, Griffin,” Anson finally said, extending a hand to Ry. He shook hands with Derek too, tipping his cap to Jane. “You folks can ride free on my boat anytime you want. You and all your guests.”

  Ry shook his head. “That’s generous, Anson, but we were only doing what was right. We don’t need any thanks.”

  “Speak for yourself, dude,” Derek said. “I’m always up for a boat ride, especially if it’s free.”

  Jane whacked her husband on the arm, but everyone else who heard the exchange laughed at the multimillionaire’s cheapskate comment.

  “Claire deserves more thanks than any of us,” Ry said. “She showed us CFAs what it means to be a real part of this community. Without her, I would have been holed up in my house instead of knocking on people’s doors to get them to vote no.”