Still Not Over You

by Barbara Lohr

  “Oh, Ryder.” But her pat became a caress. She couldn’t help it. Suddenly her hand had a mind of its own.

  “What?” He tipped his head.

  “Maybe I was an idiot, after you were an idiot.” How amazing that she could laugh about it.

  “Look, you were right to get angry. I never blamed you for that.”

  “I wouldn’t talk to you.” Her voice trembled just remembering those days. “I was too hurt.”

  “Oh, Pheebs.” Lips twisting, Ryder rocked her in his arms. “I hate the fact that I hurt you. You should have shot me.”

  “You know I don’t know how to use a weapon,” she murmured.

  He gave an earthy chuckle. “Oh, yes you do.” Turning her palm up, he kissed the pulse point of her wrist. Heat surged through her body. I’m going to fall. But when her body tipped forward, he was there. Steady. Strong.

  “Look at me, Phoebe.” Heat rolled off Ryder in waves. His eyes were glowing coals. “Now do you believe me?”

  Scorched by his eyes, she said, “Yes.”

  The word sealed it. His lips claimed her. Overhead the fan slowly circled while one kiss turned into another. They needed a higher speed. The blades weren’t even touching the rising temperature in the room.

  “Baby, baby,” she whispered, tamping down any doubts in her mind. “How I want to believe you.”

  “Let me prove it.”

  Their kisses soothed and stoked her at the same time. Fingers snarled in his curls, she cupped his head in both hands. “Oh, Ryder, I’ve missed you so.”

  “Sweet Cheeks, you don’t even know.” His lips burned through doubts like tissue.

  They healed a painful past with scorching kisses and warm caresses. They both wanted to forget and forgive. Of course she forgave him. Nothing else was possible. Not for her. When he peeled off her top, she offered no coy resistance. Why pretend? Stumbling back to the bedroom, she swallowed each moan with a kiss. Hard to tell whose. Her cast scraped the wall and she winced.

  “Sorry, babe.” Ryder hoisted her in his arms.

  He could make her feel weightless. Help her forget the cast and any discomfort. None of that mattered. Lunch was forgotten. She wanted something far more satisfying than food.

  When they reached her white metal bed in the half-pink room, he hesitated. Her heart clutched. “What, Ryder? What is it?”

  His chest heaved under hers. “Phoebe, are you sure?”

  “Don’t stop,” she begged him. “Please don’t stop now.”

  So he didn’t. The rasp of her skirt zipper promised release. The air cooled her skin but heated her heart. Outside the open window, crickets sang their mating song. Missed you. Missed you. Missed you. Her heart matched the rhythm.

  “I love you, Phoebe. You know that, right?”

  “I, I think so.”

  The look he leveled at Phoebe pierced her soul. “No, ‘I think so,’ Pheebs. Not now.”

  Indecision burned away. But she wasn’t ready to say the words she never could take back. The simple phrase that might make her feel like a fool. “I want this.”

  Ryder’s jaw shifted. He didn’t look happy. “That’s good enough...for now.”

  By the time they tumbled onto the bed, they’d reached an unspoken arrangement. They wouldn’t think about it. But while her body sent one message, her mind held a question. “I thought you wanted to sell my house,” she whispered just when they were getting to the good part.

  “Our house,” he whispered, while he let her know he meant business. No hesitation at all about what he was doing. Ryder had always been thorough.

  “Our house?” She hesitated.

  “Not now. Please? Not now.”

  “Okay.” When she fumbled with his T-shirt, he ripped it off.

  God he was gorgeous. All muscle. All man.

  While Ryder tapped into all her secret places, Phoebe’s thoughts flowed into the endless length of pleasure only he could bring. A beach without end, undulating under bare feet, just waiting for their footprints. “Oh, Ryder, please.”

  “Yes, sweetheart. Am I going too fast?”

  “Faster.” He was healing their past and opening the way to a future. In the process he made her feel precious.

  Maybe I watch too many movies.

  She’d have to bring that question up with Fernando.

  ~.~

  “Pink.” Ryder stared over at the damn wall. What did he care? Shifting to one side, he smiled. The half-finished room was so Phoebe. That was all that counted.

  “Too girly for you?” With a cute smile, she ran a fingertip down his chest. Every nerve in his body perked up.

  “Trust me. You could never be too girly.”

  “I’ve gained weight.” Even her petulant pout turned him on.

  “In all the right places. I like you just the way you are.” He skimmed her soft shoulder, followed the line over her ribs before swirling back to cup her curves. “Your leg feeling okay?”

  “Don’t worry about it. This has been great pain relief.” She ran a palm down his cheek stubble with such a light hand, it tickled.

  “I won’t argue that.” Ryder grinned. “So you’re feeling fine?”

  “Want me to prove it?” she whispered.

  “Absolutely. Let’s put it to the test.”

  Chapter 17

  Easing up from the bed so he wouldn’t bother Phoebe, Ryder pulled on his jeans. She lay curled up like a kitten. Her cast looked uncomfortable but they’d managed. What an afternoon. Did it mean anything at all? He wouldn’t overthink this. The light touched her body just so, and the fan feathered a strand of hair across her cheek. When he brushed it aside, she fumbled for his hand. “Ryder?”

  “Right here, babe.”

  Opening her eyes, she smiled and stretched invitingly.

  Then he saw the clock. “Whoa, it’s almost five, Pheebs.”

  “What?” She struggled to sit up. “When will your dad be here?”

  “Not for a while. I’m going to take a shower.” He hated to tear himself away but one more kiss and he did. While he soaped up under the hot shower, Ryder tried to quiet his mind. The stuff Phoebe said had gotten him riled again. Trixie was in the past. How could Phoebe think she was still in the picture? That floored him. But he’d hardly seen his ex-wife over the past year. How would she know that he spent evenings at the Rusty Nail playing darts with the guys in the back room?

  Bending his head under the hot stream of water, he closed his eyes while the afternoon rolled over him. No woman could match Phoebe. Not for sweetness. Not for passion. But they didn’t have time for that kind of thinking. Turning off the water, he stepped out. As he dried himself with one of her pink towels, he smiled. Ryder Branson with a pink towel. He liked it. Rubbing a circle in the steamed up mirror, he ran one hand over his chin and grabbed his razor. But Phoebe liked the scruff, just as he liked her soft palm on his chin. Ryder tucked the razor back in his kit.

  One peek into the bedroom reassured him. Phoebe had fallen back to sleep. A contented smile lifted her lips. One glance at her body brought a quick reaction from his own. Time to think of Lake Michigan in the winter.

  Ice floes. He had to picture ice floes as he headed back to the kitchen. The mess they’d left made him smile. All the sandwich making stuff was on the table. Nibbling on a slice of turkey, he cleaned up. Then he pulled out the brats for the barbecue.

  “Looks like you’ve been busy.” Her voice came soft from behind him, and he turned.

  One arm up and curled around her head, Phoebe leaned into the door frame. The only thing covering her curves was his discarded shirt. And it wasn’t very long. The cast was a weird turn-on. She could make a burlap bag look sexy.

  “My dad will be here soon, Pheebs.” The words came out scratchy and dry.

  “Good thing. Can’t wait to see him.” She looked so pleased with herself, her crazy hair upended and her eyes green pools of pleasure.

  “Don’t be naughty now, please.” He’d never been go
od at self-control. Not when it came to her. “We don’t have time...”

  “...to be naughty?” Her lips curved over the words.

  He was a goner. Sliding the pack of brats onto the counter, he gripped a chair with both hands and hung on.

  But she backed away with a laugh and a wave. “I’m getting dressed. Don’t worry. I won’t embarrass you.”

  Whew. With a sigh of relief, he grabbed some plates and silverware and took them out to the porch. He sure hoped his dad didn’t stay long tonight.

  ~.~

  By the time Stanley rang the bell, Phoebe was back in her red, white and blue top and that mini skirt. This afternoon had left her mellow but achy in a good way. Ryder. How could she ever think she’d gotten over him? “I’ll get the door.”

  There stood Stanley, freshly scrubbed with a big bowl in his hands. Leaning toward him, she kissed his cheek. “You taste like Brylcream. I’d take that potato salad, but I’m still learning to balance on this darn cast. Can you put that in the frig?”

  “Not a problem.” Easing around her, Stanley headed for the refrigerator and tucked the bowl inside. “Be right back. I’ve got one more thing back in the truck.”

  Taking her glass of lemonade outside to join Ryder at the grill, she watched Stanley haul in what looked like guacamole. Leave it to her former father-in-law to come prepared. “One of my favorites,” she called out. “Can you put it on the screened porch? I have chips.”

  “Sure thing.” Hoisting the bowl, he scurried inside.

  “Your dad is something.” Her eyes followed Stanley into the house. That man never changed, and it felt good to have him here today. Right. It felt right.

  When Ryder came up behind her, she felt the nudge of his shoulder. A wave of heat washed over her. His lips tickled her neck. “Guess I better take care of business.” He went back to the grill. Phoebe rubbed her tingling neck.

  Stanley reappeared and circled the cottage, studying the paint job. Phoebe ambled over. Ryder followed, and she could feel his tension. “So what do you think, Dad?”

  Lifting a brow, Stanley turned to look at her and then his son. “Interesting.”

  Now when Papa used that word, he didn’t want to say what he really thought. Phoebe knew that much.

  “Okay, I wanted the pink.” She didn’t want Stanley to think this had been Ryder’s choice.

  Clapping one hand over his mouth, Stanley tried to hide a grin. His attention swung to Ryder. “Two-coat job, right?”

  “At least.”

  Phoebe bristled. “Well, it’s not my fault that the stupid house was brown in the first place. It needed some perking up. Do you like the roof? Ryder did that himself.”

  Stanley nodded his approval. “Looks fine, crisp and clean. The color...?” His voice lifted and hung.

  Phoebe could hear Ryder suck in a breath. “...is unusual.” He finished his father’s thought and Phoebe chuckled.

  “How about a beer, Dad?” As if he wanted to leave the scene of the crime, Ryder headed into the house. Phoebe followed along behind. Truth was, she was feeling a little sleepy. Content but sleepy. She’d forgotten how much energy making love could take. Heck, she’d probably worked off a couple pounds this afternoon. Once inside, she tried to get a bowl off a top shelf for the chips.

  “Let me do that, sweetheart.” Ryder’s comment nearly toppled her.

  Her back to Stanley, she couldn’t see his shocked smile. But she sure felt it. Phoebe gave Ryder a little shake of her head. What did the afternoon mean? She needed to know the answer to that before they started telling the world.

  Can you trust him again?

  The question rippled through her stomach in a sickening wave. She had no answer. What about the next girl that caught Ryder’s eye? And the one after that? And even if he wasn’t the one looking, the man was eye candy. She’d seen the women checking him out at the parade. Would he respond when women hit on him?

  When she glanced up, Stanley had taken his beer out onto the porch, and Ryder was studying her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Why would you say that?” Taking the bowl from him, she set it on the table and struggled to open the bag of taco chips.

  “Here. I’ll do that.” Whisking the bag from her arms, he never dropped his gaze.

  “It’s just that we don’t know where this is going and I...”

  The bag split in his hands. Chips flew everywhere. Ryder didn’t even seem to notice. “Maybe you don’t know where this is going. But I sure as hell do. Go with your gut feelings, Phoebe. Aren’t we good together?”

  “Yes, yes we are.” They’d caught Stanley’s attention. “Not now, okay?” she said in a small voice. “Let’s clean up this mess.”

  Stooping, he scooped up some chips. “Do you have another bag of these?”

  “No. Wish I did.” When was the last time she’d cleaned that floor?

  “No problem. We’ll never notice.” Frowning, he kept heaping them into the basket.

  Out on the porch Stanley had started humming, looking out at the trees. As if he hadn’t heard them. As if this little scene didn’t bother him.

  Pivoting on her cast she thumped out onto the porch. Ryder followed with the bowl and then went back inside for the beer. “I’m going to get busy with the grill,” he said, avoiding her eyes.

  “Fine, son. I’ll keep Phoebe busy.”

  “I’ll just bet.” But Ryder smiled, as if he liked seeing them together. Then he left. Watching him go, Phoebe knew they still had so much to settle.

  “How was the parade?” Stanley asked.

  “Fun. We saw a lot of our...my friends.” Scooping up some guacamole, she wanted to confide in Stanley. She really did. Her head was spinning from that kitchen conversation with Ryder, and a sip of beer didn’t help a bit.

  “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” She flopped into the chair so hard her tailbone ached. That was all she needed. A broken leg and a broken tailbone.

  “If you say so.” Papa reached for the dip.

  Birds flitted through the trees. Laughter drifted up from the beach below. This was a perfect day. Leaning over as far as she could, she took a big scoop of guacamole and just stared at it. No way could she eat anything, so she laid the chip on a napkin.

  “Have you talked to Lisa or Stephanie today?” Usually Ryder’s sisters always called on holidays.

  “Oh, sure. Lisa’s having Cal’s family over for a barbecue and Stephanie’s working. Can you believe how much time that girl spends at her job?”

  “From what I hear, PR is a twenty-four seven career.”

  “And she’s good at it,” Stanley said with pride. When he put his feet up on the hassock, it felt like old times. The smell of burning charcoal filled the air.

  Ryder stuck his head into the porch. “I’ll be right back. Can you believe I forgot to get buns?”

  “I’ll run into town, son.” Stanley started to get up.

  But Ryder held up hand “No, you visit with Phoebe. Keep her out of trouble.” Ryder and Phoebe shared a look that made her blush. And it wasn’t lost on her former father-in-law.

  After the truck had roared off, Stanley and Phoebe sat and sipped. Off in the distance some fireworks went off. The neighborhood dogs started barking. “Darn kids,” Stanley said with a shake of disapproval. “Can’t be satisfied with the public fireworks. Every idiot has to go out and buy his own. Drives the dogs crazy.”

  “I guess.” When Ryder was with her, everything felt fine. But when he left? Doubts poked her with hot fingers. How could she live like this, getting nervous every time he was out of sight?

  “You’re sure looking serious, Phoebe. Anything wrong?” Leave it to Stanley to get right down to business.

  “I don’t know, Papa.” She circled the lip of her beer bottle with a finger.

  “Looks like you and Ryder are getting along just fine.” Hope shone in Stanley’s eyes.

  “We are. And that’s the problem.” She could never hide anything from her father-in
-law.

  Things got quiet. “Why is getting along good a problem, Phoebe?”

  “Because I don’t know if I can trust him, t-that’s why.” The words tumbled out. Tears brimmed and dribbled down her cheeks. She couldn’t help it and tried to brush them away. But she couldn’t ignore the worry eating at her stomach. “Papa, I still love Ryder like crazy.”

  His pleased smile was something to see.

  “But how can I trust him again?”

  Stanley set his beer aside. The smile disappeared. When had he developed all those lines in his cheeks? “I think he’s learned his lesson, Phoebe.”

  “Lesson?” Phoebe threw up her hands. “Is life school, Papa? He’s a grown man.”

  “The man hasn’t been the same since he lost you,” Stanley said quietly. “Hate to say this, girl, but he wasn’t grown up when you two got married. And it pains me to admit that. In his late twenties and Ryder still had some learning to do. But there you have it.”

  “What are you talking about, Papa?

  Hands folded on his stomach, Stanley took a breath. She couldn’t recall ever seeing him this serious. “Ryder was about as spoiled as anybody could be. His mama spoiled him and after she passed, well, his sisters took over. The sun rose and set on that boy.”

  “I’ll bet he was cute growing up.” She couldn’t help but smile.

  “He was a royal pain. I worried about that boy constantly, especially after his mother passed away. What a relief when he came into the business with me. Gradually, he was taking it over. Sure, he partied on the weekends but he never got serious with anyone, as far as I knew. Then you came along.”

  Phoebe cast a quick eye on the driveway. She sure hoped Ryder didn’t return soon. But Clancy’s was probably crowded.

  Stanley continued the story that Phoebe really wanted to hear, without Ryder. “He changed. I could see it. But he couldn’t quite leave the past. When a man becomes an adult, he should leave childish things behind.” He grinned. “Doesn’t it say that in the Bible? Just means he should recognize his responsibilities. Live up to them.”

  “He sure seemed like an adult to me.” Phoebe smiled, remembering how confident Ryder was when he came onto her at the Rusty Nail.