“You can pull your car in here if you like.”
Bree laughed loudly. “I was serious. I’m going to find somebody to tow that beast off. It’ll be the happiest day of my life.”
He smiled, though something about her saying it would be the happiest day of her life made him sad. A woman this vibrant and fun should have too many happy days to count. “I’ll make some calls and find a foundation to donate it to if you’d like.”
“Thank you.” She winked and fell into step beside him as they headed outside, and he walked with her around his five acres of grass, pool, play area, and basketball court.
Tate reached for a basketball at the court. Ryder swept the ball off the ground and put it in his hands. He lifted him up high so the little man could shoot and get it in the hoop. Tate giggled and clapped when he made a shot after a few tries. Ryder felt a little awkward with Bree watching them play. In those high heels, she probably wouldn’t be joining in. If she was anything like Jessica, she would never be joining in.
The ball swooshed through the hoop then bounced at an awkward angle away from them. Bree dodged in front of him and swiped the ball. She dribbled it expertly and grinned. “You wanna play?”
Ryder glanced down in surprise. She was barefoot and dribbling the ball low and quick. She darted around him and tossed the ball up for an easy layup. Ryder shifted Tate to his left arm, leapt, and knocked the ball away before it swooshed through the hoop.
Bree hooted. “Whoa, the boy has some skills!”
Ryder grinned. All sports came naturally to him, but what Bree didn’t know was he’d been heavily recruited out of high school for his basketball skills first. He had ended up switching to football his sophomore year at Florida State and absolutely loved it.
“You really want to go?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Yes, sir, I do.”
Ryder laughed. “What do you say, Tate? Shall we wipe her face on the court?”
Tate nodded, grinning.
“Ooh, I’d like to see you try.” She taunted him, dribbling the ball from her right to her left hand and then through her legs. “I was raised on a court.”
She looked so cute in her fancy floral shirt and tight skirt, her huge curly hair swaying as she tried to dribble around him. He reached in and stole the ball easily, handing it off to Tate.
“Hey,” she said.
Ryder lifted Tate up. His boy shot but missed. Bree dodged in and got the rebound.
“That’s all right, buddy, we’ll get her next time,” Ryder said.
“Don’t you wish.” She dribbled backwards to avoid him stealing it, arched up and went for a long jump shot. It swished through the hoop.
“Impressive,” Ryder said. He grabbed the ball and dribbled circles around her as she guarded him and tried to steal it. She finally latched on to his right arm, and the ball shot off to the edge of the court. “Foul.”
She wrinkled her nose, staying right next to him instead of chasing after the ball. “All’s fair in war and basketball.”
Ryder chuckled then sprinted for the ball. Tate giggled as he ran. He grabbed it and dribbled in quickly. Bree lunged toward him. He dodged around her, and as they approached the rim, he handed the ball off to Tate. Lifting his son up high, he yelled, “Now, buddy.” It was the perfect moment. Tate shot and scored.
“Yes!” Ryder cried out. He turned, and Bree stood there with her hand up.
“High five, buddy! You rocked that,” she said to Tate.
Tate slapped her hand, giggling. Ryder laughed and put out his hand. She slapped it, and Ryder instinctively wrapped his fingers around hers, holding on. He was already a little short of breath from running around while holding Tate. Bree’s hand in his, and her beautiful face tilted up toward him with her lips slightly parted, made his heart race. He felt like he’d just run sprints for conditioning. He also didn’t know the last time he’d had this much fun. Tate made him happy, and Ryder tried to make their playtime fun, but it wasn’t really exciting to push a truck around for hours or pretend to be a Marvel character and talk nonstop by yourself.
Bree pulled her hand free but stayed close. “Let’s play again when I’m not wearing a skirt and I’ll really trash you two.”
Ryder smiled. “I think the most impressive skill you have is trash talk.”
“Oh!” She gasped, her smile huge. “I’ll show you.” She laughed. “But you’re right. I am good at trash talking.” She walked away from him, off the court and toward the playset.
Ryder followed like a puppy on a leash. He glanced down at Tate. His son was watching Bree with a grin on his face. It seemed Tate was as enthralled with their new nanny as Ryder was.
When Bree reached the playset, she put her hands on her hips. She was a decent height, probably five six. She’d lost a couple of inches taking off those heels. She also seemed more approachable and every bit as beautiful.
“Why don’t you let Tate play while we talk?”
It was phrased as a question, but it was clearly a challenge. Ryder arched an eyebrow at her. She’d gone from playful to therapist quickly. Ryder didn’t like to set his son down, but he could see the wheels in her head spinning. She thought he was some enabling parent.
He gently set Tate down by the huge playset. Tate cocked his head and glanced up at him, clearly waiting for him to start chasing him up the ladders and down the slides. “Go play, buddy,” Ryder said. “Like you do when Lila’s here.” He’d seen his son playing on his own. It just didn’t happen often when Ryder was around to play with him.
Tate nodded in his usual easy manner and hurried over to a small rock wall. He easily scaled it. His son was a natural athlete like him, and Ryder loved working with Tate on anything sports-related.
Bree gestured to a bench close to the playset, a tight smile on her face.
He sat heavily and glanced at her. She crossed her legs and her arms, her body tense and shut off. Wow, she’d converted from fun to serious fast.
“You’re a good dad,” she said.
“I hope so.”
“But I can’t help Tate until you stop coddling him.”
Ryder leaned back, blinking at her. He’d felt certain she was the right person to help them, but maybe he’d been wrong. Coddling? “If you think you’re going to come in here and tell me not to hold my son, you might need to leave now.” That was the last thing he wanted, for her to leave, but nobody told him not to hold his boy.
She gave him a patient smile. She didn’t move, and she didn’t back down. “There’s a big difference between holding your son and treating a four-and-a-half-year-old like he’s an infant.”
Ryder wanted to jump to his feet, grab Tate, and storm away from her. She had no right to make fun of him or tell him how to parent. She had no clue what they’d been through. It was him and Tate. Together. Period. He glanced at his boy, coming down the green slide. He popped out at the bottom, landing in a crouch, gave Ryder a happy smile then ran to the steps that took him to the monkey bars. He swung across the monkey bars with ease. Ryder smiled proudly. He could sense Bree watching him and turned back to face her.
“I’m not here to judge your parenting style or tell you it’s your fault he’s not speaking,” she said in a low, understanding voice. “But he needs to learn to trust me, and he needs to learn to trust himself or none of this will work.”
Ryder could understand Tate should trust Bree, but what did she mean by trusting himself? “I don’t understand how a four-year-old needs to trust himself.”
“You want him to speak so he’ll be self-sufficient,” she said.
“Yeah, among other things. You can see he’s smart. Of course, I want him to be able to communicate and have his own life.” The thought of Tate growing up and leaving his side made his stomach ache.
She nodded. “There’s an intelligence in his eyes, and he definitely understands what’s going on.” She tilted her head to the playset. “He’s athletic and healthy.” She smiled. “So I’m betting y
ou set him on his feet sometimes.”
Ryder lifted an eyebrow at the slight. “You’re freaking out because I didn’t set him down when you were first here, but I wanted to make sure he was comfortable with you.”
“I saw no indicators at any point that he wasn’t comfortable with me.”
Ryder thought she was probably right.
“When he wants something, do you expect him to use sign language and wait for him to help himself, or do you just get him what he wants when he points?”
Ryder’s lips tightened. “You know the answer to that.” He clenched his fist and focused on Tate, who was riding gleefully down the tube slide.
Bree put her hand on his arm. Ryder jolted from the warm pressure of her slim fingers. He didn’t get close enough to unrelated women to have them touch him. If Bree stayed, he’d have to somehow get used to how his body reacted so he didn’t let her know how attracted he was to her and chase her away like he almost did earlier.
“I’m sorry, Ry. I’m not trying to call you on the carpet. I’m trying to help.”
The combination of her hand, her understanding voice, and her using his nickname made him want to turn and pull her into a hug. He shook that off. “I know you are.”
“I don’t want to change you or Tate. I just want to help you guys.”
Ryder lifted his gaze to meet hers. Her deep brown eyes were full of understanding. He’d given her an emotion-filled speech earlier about needing her help, saying he was willing to change, and the first thing she noticed that he could change made him mad.
He pulled in a slow breath and then said, “I’m sorry. I want to do what’s best for Tate. What are your initial suggestions?”
She gave him a smile that radiated clear through his body and squeezed his forearm softly. How in the world was he going to keep his distance when this spicy beauty with the wild hair filled him with longings he’d never experienced with Jessica, his high school and college girlfriend and wife of over four years?
Bree pulled her hand back and clasped her fingers together. “Don’t make any big changes, but let’s try to let him do things on his own a little more, step back and watch. Let him struggle a little bit.”
Struggle? That sounded horrible. His eyes darted to Tate. He was running to the section of sand. He started digging in with a huge excavator toy. He looked happy and perfectly normal. Nobody would know he was mute. Hadn’t the little guy struggled enough losing his mom so young?
“Look how happy he is,” Bree said. “Maybe he’s ready for a little independence.”
Ryder wanted to argue that Tate was perfectly happy when he held him and played with him.
“He was happy when you were holding him too,” she said, as if guessing his thoughts. “He needs both. The physical connection is very important, but it’s also important he knows he can stand on his own two feet and you trust him.”
Ryder held up his hands. “Okay, I got it.”
Bree raised her eyebrows. “But you don’t like it.”
“This isn’t about what I like. It’s about helping Tate.”
“That’s exactly what I was hoping you’d say.”
Ryder focused on his son. It was strange to sit here and simply watch Tate play rather than getting down and digging in the sand with him. Bree was explaining that his son needed both—playtime and snuggling with him but also independent time as well. He snuck a glance at his beautiful speech therapist. This was going to take some time to get used to. She was going to take some time to get used to.
Chapter Three
Bree wondered how she was going to survive in this alternate reality. Ryder Quinn was even more beautiful and impressive up close and personal, and Tate was a great boy, adorable and happy. She’d done a session of sign language with Tate and worked with him on producing certain sounds with his mouth and tongue. He obediently did what she asked, he even made the correct sounds. A lot of children struggled with l, r, and s, but Tate pronounced them perfectly. However, when she asked him to parrot words, he shook his head and clammed up. Frustrating and intriguing. Why wouldn’t he speak?
She’d been worried at the playset when she’d boldly told Ryder he needed to allow Tate to be more independent. It was uncomfortable to tell an accomplished man what to do, but after a little resistance he’d listened to her advice and had done better the rest of the day. During dinner he’d waited patiently when Tate pointed at something and asked him, “Can you please tell me what you want?”
Tate had made the signs for please and milk. Bree would work with him on more sign language, but she didn’t want him to just resort to that and never become verbal when he was capable of speech.
After dinner, Ryder asked Tate what he wanted to do. He tugged his dad out to the swimming pool and pointed.
“Would you like to join us?” Ryder asked, looking at Bree. “You said you like to swim.”
She loved to swim but had never dreamed she’d have a pool so accessible. She did a little happy dance. “Let’s do it!”
Ryder and Tate both smiled at her. She skipped inside and up to her room. She’d had some time to unload her suitcases before dinner, but a sinking feeling in her stomach reminded her that she didn’t have a swimsuit. She’d had one in high school, but it had gotten so threadbare during college she’d thrown it out when she packed up her apartment a few days ago.
Dang it. She really wanted to swim with them. She was already becoming attached to these two and wanted to spend more playtime with them, like they’d had playing basketball earlier.
Digging through her workout clothes, she found her most modest sports bra and some running shorts. The sports bra was bright pink, and the shorts were a striped blue and green. She was going to look funny. And here Ryder was a multi-millionaire. Would he laugh at her?
She slipped into the clothes, pulled her hair into a ponytail and squared her shoulders. It didn’t matter if he laughed. She wanted to swim, and her job was to help Tate talk. Any interaction and time she could get with him was important.
Her phone beeped with an incoming text. She grabbed it, and when she saw Peter Ormond’s name, she squealed and put a hand to her abdomen.
I have all your information, and the deposit came through Venmo. I’ll find your sister and get back to you as soon as possible.
Excitement and nervousness wrapped around her. This man was supposed to be the best in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. Would he really find Jasmine? Was she still close by, or had she moved across the country? Who knew? With the advance Ryder had transferred to her account, she now had the money to find out and go track Jasmine down, even if she was in Switzerland.
Right now, she needed to focus on one little boy and his handsome father. She pulled a tank top over her sports bra and strode out into the hallway. No one was around. She skimmed her hands along the banister that ran the length of the open balcony, gazing down at the gorgeous living area. She loved this house. It wasn’t just that it was perfectly designed, clean and beautifully decorated, there was a good feeling here.
She jogged down the stairs, through the living area, and out the double doors off the living room. Ryder and Tate were already in the pool. Ryder pushed Tate toward the side, and the little guy churned his arms quickly to reach the pool deck then grinned and pushed off the wall, swimming back to his dad. Man, they were cute together.
They both looked up as she approached. Ryder’s smile grew. “Hey,” he said.
It was a simple word but felt like a huge greeting. She lifted a hand, feeling awkward all over again.
“Is the water warm?” she asked to try to deflect attention from the fact that Ryder was staring at her. The temperature out was probably high sixties, and they were swimming. How fun was that?
“Yeah. I like your hair up.”
Bree bit at her lip. “Told you, the hair takes the focus off my face.”
“You look beautiful both ways.” His voice was low and all too appealing.
Bree’s stomach swooped,
and her face filled with warmth.
As if concerned about how she would react to his compliment after this morning, Ryder turned from her and threw Tate into the air. The little guy cried out in delight. Tate made all the normal sounds a little boy would make. Except for talking. So crazy. Bree wondered if they needed a psychiatrist, not a speech pathologist. She’d keep working with them, but if it became obvious that her training wasn’t the right fit, she’d have to give Ryder’s money back and make that recommendation. Minus the money she’d already paid the P.I. She shouldn’t have been so rash, but the dream of finding Jasmine was tantalizingly close.
Ryder’s arm and shoulder muscles flexed as he lifted his son. Bree found her gaze riveted to his impressive build. He caught her gaze and gave her a slow grin. “Come on in. We won’t splash you if you don’t want your hair wet.”
Bree lifted her eyebrows. Didn’t want her hair wet? What kind of talk was that? She tugged off her tank top and dropped it on a nearby lounge chair. Ryder was the one staring now. He swallowed, and she could see his Adam’s apple bob. “Nice suit.”
She rolled her eyes, ran, and leapt off the edge. Wrapping her hands around her legs, she yelled, “Cannonball!”
The warm water embraced her, and she touched the bottom then pushed off. She surfaced and laughed at the stunned expression on Ryder’s face. Tate was giggling. They both had water dripping off their heads and faces. Bree looked around, satisfied when she saw water all over the pool deck.
“Crack-a-lackin’ good, right?”
Ryder nodded, looking at her with a strange expression. “Really good. You don’t care if your hair gets wet?”
“Why would I swim if I wanted dry hair?” She shook her head, and water flew from her ponytail. Even tied up, her hair hung down between her shoulder blades. It was crazy long when it was wet and not so tightly curled.
“I just remember some women don’t like getting their hair wet and having to redo it after.”
The Devoted Groom Page 3
