Savannah shook her head. “This is a misunderstanding. I just wanted to know if that guy lived here because he … looked like someone I thought I knew.” Why am I protecting that creep. He was watching me—not checking me out like Ryder thinks. No … it was something else.
“This is Savannah,” Ryder said, breaking in on her thoughts. “This here is Jerry, and that’s Rock.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m sorry I caused this confusion.”
“No worries. When a brother needs something, we’re there,” Rock said, clapping his hand on Ryder’s back. “Later, bro.” The two bikers walked away and disappeared into the crowd.
“Is the whole club full of intimidating men like them? Wait, it is—Hawk and Banger fit that bill too,” Savannah said.
Ryder laughed. “They’re pretty typical. Rock’s the club’s sergeant-at-arms. Jerry’s old lady is Banger’s daughter.”
“That pretty blonde?”
“Yeah—Kylie.”
“What’s the sergeant-at-arms?”
“The heavy of the club. He’s in charge of clubhouse security along with enforcement of club rules and regulations. He’s the only one who can reprimand the president, should he fuck up, but Banger never does.” Ryder grinned.
“Look, they’re going to light the tree!” Timmy cried out.
“Awesome,” she said as she playfully pulled at her son’s boot. The boy giggled then riveted his gaze on the twenty-five foot tree. She snuggled against Ryder and watched as the mayor dramatically flipped the switch, lighting the tree decked out in tinsel, ornaments, and thousands of twinkling lights to welcome the Christmas season.
Timmy clapped his hands and laughed, darting his eyes from her face back to the spectacular tree.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured.
“You’re beautiful,” Ryder said, planting a kiss on her lips.
Savannah stroked the side of his face with her gloved fingers, her body tingling all over.
“How did you like it,” Cara asked as she came over, Isa and Braxton in tow.
“I loved it. I’m so glad we came, and Timmy is having the time of his life,” Savannah replied.
Ryder lifted Timmy up and off his shoulders, and as his little body pressed against Savannah’s leg, he and Braxton high-fived each other.
Cara’s eyes switched between Savannah and Ryder, then she tightened the multi-colored scarf around her neck. “I’m having a little Christmas sleepover party for Braxton, Harley, and James—he’s Clotille and Rock’s son. I’d love it, and so would Braxton, if Timmy could come.” Again she glanced at Ryder then back at Savannah. “Clotille’s coming by to help out with the boys for a while, then it’ll just be me and Hawk. Believe me, we’ll keep a very good eye on them.”
“Yeah, their house is tighter than Fort Knox.” Ryder laughed.
“Can I, Mommy?” Timmy’s upturned face, full of hope and excitement, touched Savannah’s heart.
“So you were listening to us.” She put her hand on his shoulder and drew him closer to him. “I think it sounds like a lot of fun, so … sure.”
“Yippee!” Braxton and Timmy yelled in unison. Cara and Savannah laughed.
“When is the party?” Savannah asked.
“Tomorrow night. You can bring Timmy over around three thirty or four. Is he allergic to peanuts or anything?”
“No.”
“Do you like macaroni and cheese, Timmy?” Cara asked.
“That’s my favorite. My mom makes it the best.”
“I know I won’t beat your mom’s mac ’n cheese, but I make a pretty good one too. Do you think you’ll want to try it?”
“Uh-huh.” Timmy bobbed up and down.
“Mommy, can we have meatballs too?” Braxton asked.
Ryder laughed. “You can tell he’s a paisano. Italian-American kids gotta have their meatballs. Speaking of that, Savannah makes the best lasagna. Ever,” he said to Cara.
“I waitressed at a mom and pop Italian restaurant a million years ago,” Savannah replied to Cara’s curious look.
“You about ready to get going?” Hawk asked as he swept Isa up in his arms.
“It’s time we head out too,” Ryder said, grasping Savannah’s hand. The two bikers bumped fists before parting ways.
On the ride back to the cabin, a mix of ’80s metal music played at a low volume as the vehicle heated up. Savannah rested her head back against the seat and stared at the darkness in front of them. The face of the stranger flashed through her mind, and suspicion trickled down her spine. Something doesn’t seem right. Worry niggled in the back of her mind as she recalled her mother’s declaration from their conversation earlier that day at how she was “pretty confident” Savannah and Timmy would be home for Christmas. After her mom had said that, she’d thought it was just her mom’s way of subtly guilting her into returning to Boston, but after seeing that man, Savannah wasn’t too sure about her mother’s statement. Did she tell Bret where we are? She wouldn’t … or would she?
Ryder’s hand covered hers and drew her away from her thoughts. She looked at him and smiled then peeked into the back seat where Timmy’s head lolled to the side as he slept.
“He’s pooped out,” she said.
“It was a big day,” Ryder answered.
“Was it horrible for you? I mean, for someone who isn’t into Christmas, you had the holiday cheer rammed down your throat today. I bet after the season, you probably don’t ever want to see another decorated tree.”
Ryder brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “It was a bit much, but I didn’t mind it. I liked seeing how happy you and Timmy were, but I draw the line at incessant Christmas music.”
She laughed softly. “I promise not to blast it throughout your house.”
“Then we won’t have a problem.”
“Your family’s not into Christmas either?”
“They are. My mom’s all about the food and the traditions, and she’s been baking up a storm with my sisters, aunts, and cousins since Thanksgiving. Last time I was over there, they had pizzelle all over the damn place.”
“I love those cookies. I haven’t had them since I worked at Luna’s. I bet they’re so good.”
“I’ll have to bring some to you.”
“So, your family doesn’t go in for the tree lighting?”
“Some years they do, others years they don’t. I was surprised my brother wasn’t there. His daughters like that kind of thing.” He glanced at her briefly and shrugged. “Maybe they had something else to do.”
“I didn’t know you were an uncle,” Savannah said.
Nodding, he stared straight ahead. “I got three nieces and a nine-month-old nephew. My brother’s got two girls, and my sister has a girl and the new baby.”
“Do you see them very often?”
“Depends—I go in cycles. Most of the time I want to be left the hell alone, so they back off. It works.” Ryder veered the jeep onto the narrow road that led to his cabin. “What about you?”
“I’m the second oldest of five—two brothers and two sisters, and only one grandkid for my parents—Timmy.” Savannah looked down and played with the fringe on her scarf. “That’s why I feel bad about taking Timmy away right before Christmas. It’s so selfish, but … I had to get away.”
“Did you tell your mom that?”
“I did, but she doesn’t really understand.” She shook her head when his features hardened. “But I don’t blame her—I didn’t tell her the whole story.” She leaned over and kissed him on the side of his mouth. “I appreciate you helping to make this Christmas nice for Timmy. I know he misses his grandparents,” she said softly in his ear.
“Both sets of grandparents?”
“No”—she pulled away and reclined back in the seat—“just my parents.”
Ryder hit the button and the garage door opened, and he pulled the vehicle inside.
“I’ll carry Timmy to his room,” Ryder said, opening the jeep’s back door.
Savannah followe
d after him and pulled back the covers when they entered Timmy’s room. She slowly took off her son’s boots, mittens, hat, and jacket. Ryder squeezed her shoulder and retreated from the room, grumbling something about taking Brutus out for a walk.
After Timmy was snuggled in bed, his arm wrapped around Furry, Savannah switched off the light and walked into her room to change and wash up. By the time she sat down on the couch, Ryder had just come in from walking the dog; his cheeks were red and he rubbed his hands together as if warming them up.
“Do you want me to pour you a shot of whiskey to warm you up?” she asked. Her breath caught as his gaze slowly roamed over her then lingered on her mouth, making her burn.
“I got some other ideas about how to warm up, but a shot of whiskey’s a good start.”
Tingles skated over her skin, and she looked away from him. “Did you want me to start the fire?”
“I’ll do it after I get out of these wet clothes.” His footsteps faded down the hallway.
Savannah rose to her feet and padded into the kitchen to retrieve two glasses. She’d bought the premium black label of Jack Daniels for Ryder and a bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream for herself when she was in town the day before. She took down two tumblers and poured a hefty portion of whiskey in his and Bailey’s in hers, then made her way back into the family room. Savannah took a sip of her drink hoping it would calm down her nerves. Ryder made her nervous and aroused more than she liked, and it didn’t help one damn bit that he oozed masculinity from his every pore. The way he wore his tight-fitting flannel shirts gave her an idea of how wonderfully chiseled he was. She’d seen hints of ink rising up from underneath his shirt collars, and the ink on his arms intrigued and excited her. Savannah could never imagine Bret or any Carlton sporting a tattoo, and even though Bret once told her the vine of purple clematis flowers tatted right above her pubic bone was sexy, she knew deep down he thought it was trashy.
What worried her the most was that she was incredibly attracted to Ryder, not just physically, but intellectually and emotionally as well. It was like they complemented each other in some broken, twisted, and dangerous way.
The sound of a match striking snapped her eyes upward and in the direction of Ryder, who was by the fireplace throwing matches at the logs and bunched-up newspapers.
“I didn’t even hear you come in,” she said.
Without answering, Ryder looked over his shoulder and caught her in a heated gaze before turning his attention back to stoking the fire. A tremor vibrated along her body.
“Where’s Brutus?” she asked.
“With Timmy.” He chuckled.
Savannah watched him as he bent over and tossed another log into the fireplace, making his shoulder muscles ripple under the long-sleeved black T-shirt. So damn sexy. Ryder straightened up, placed the poker back in the iron stand and closed the mesh fire curtain, then he strode over to the couch.
“Does your leg hurt?” Savannah asked when she saw him grimace as he settled on the cushion.
“It’s no big deal.”
“If it’s more comfortable, you can take it off.” She held her breath, knowing this was a touchy topic with him.
Ryder paused for a few seconds, then he reached over and picked up his drink. “I’m good.” The way he said it told her that it was the end of the conversation.
Savannah stretched out her legs, and he pinched her toes playfully. “You like fluffy things, don’t you?” he asked tugging at her candy cane striped fuzzy socks.
“They make me feel warm and cozy.”
“They’re cute like you.”
“Oh please … I’m too old to be cute.”
Ryder tilted his head back. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-six,” she groaned.
One corner of his mouth hitched up in a cocky smile. “I never had the hots for an older woman before.”
Savannah lightly kicked him.
He laughed and squeezed her foot. “I like it though.”
“Like I believe that. Why would you want me when you could have younger, prettier women falling at your feet? Brandi’s at least ten or twelve years younger than me.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re gorgeous and sexy in a way that drives men wild.”
Bret didn’t think so.
Ryder shook his head. “I’m not interested in young girls, and before you roll those beautiful blue eyes at me, I already explained about Brandi.” He knocked her feet off the couch and moved toward her. “Give me your sweet lips, darlin’.” Heat rippled off him.
Shivers zinged through Savannah’s body, her pulse beat rapidly, and her stomach did somersaults as she leaned forward and fell into his arms. She touched his perfectly carved lips, and in an impatient gesture, he clutched the back of her neck and crushed his mouth against hers. He tasted of whiskey and peppermint from the candy cane he’d chomped on during the ride back, and she loved it.
Savannah pressed herself firmly against him, her muscles straining to get as close as she could. Aching to touch his heated skin, she pulled at his T-shirt until it lifted up from the waistband of his jeans, then she glided her fingers underneath the hem, pressing them against the corded muscles of his back. He groaned into her mouth, and the sound shuddered through her.
Ryder’s mouth moved past hers and down to her jawline, where he planted soft kisses. Each brush of his trailing lips ignited flames along her skin.
“I want you so fucking bad. Now. I know you want me too,” he rasped between kisses.
His words and touch sent carnal tingles down her spine. “I do want you. I ache for you, but—” The muscles in his back stiffened under her fingers as he broke away, his eyes meeting hers.
“But what?” Lines spanned across his forehead as he scowled.
“I want to be with you, but”—her gaze dragged away from his as she glanced at the hallway—“Timmy may come out. I don’t want that to happen. As it is, everything that’s been going on these days is confusing enough for him.”
Ryder didn’t respond right away, and Savannah expected him to pull away from her and tell her to go to hell before stalking out of the room. Instead, he swept his tongue across her lips then held her close.
“I understand, darlin’. Timmy’s still thinking about his dad.” His warm breath slipped over her skin and the place between her legs twinged with a dull throb.
“Tomorrow night we’ll be alone,” she whispered. “Timmy’s going to a sleepover, remember?”
“That’s right. Fuck baby, right now, tomorrow feels like it’ll never get here.” He bit her neck and she yelped. “I could just eat you all up.”
“I’m going to have a mark there,” she said, pulling away as she moved her hand to cover her neck.
“The next ones will be where no one but you and I can see them.” Ryder winked at her and sat back.
The idea of her pale skin being the canvass for Ryder’s love bites turned her on more than she cared to admit … especially to him. “We’ll see about that.” She pushed off the couch. “Do you want another drink?” When he nodded, she scooped up his glass and walked into the kitchen to pour them each another.
Savannah sagged against the counter, staring out at the shards of moonlight highlighting patches of snow outside. The thought of them making love the following night threw her nerves into overdrive. She wanted it badly—it’d been so long since a man had desired her, but she worried it would change things between them. Maybe he doesn’t really want to … I mean I’m the one who suggested tomorrow night. Could I have sounded more desperate? He didn’t bring up the sleepover … I did.
“You need some help with those drinks?” Ryder asked.
Savannah hurriedly filled their glasses and handed a tumbler to him before sinking down on the other end of the couch; she didn’t trust herself to be too close to Ryder.
Ryder took a large drink, placed his glass down and stared at her with those intense dark eyes that made her fluttery and intimidated at the same time.
A few minutes passed before he shifted in his seat and faced her.
“Does Timmy ask a lot about his dad?” he said.
Savannah let out an audible sigh. “Not really. Bret didn’t spend a lot of time with him.”
“Even so, it must be hard on the boy and even harder on his dad.”
Irritation pricked her skin. “I don’t think so. Timmy’s dad would never win a Father-of-the-Year award, and Timmy’s used to not seeing very much of him.” She took a sip of her drink. “Don’t judge or presume things you don’t know anything about.”
With his gaze fixed on hers, Ryder paused for a few heartbeats then said, “Why don’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what? How insensitive and cold Bret was to his own son?”
“Why you ran away from him.”
Blood rushed to her head and her heart pounded so loudly in her ears that she was sure he could hear it. Covering her face with her hands, Savannah breathed in and out deeply until the panic clawing at her subsided. Ryder didn’t bombard her with platitudes or ask what was wrong, he just sat there, and his silence comforted her. Slowly, her fingers slid down her face.
“He raped me,” she said in a soft, steady voice. Then she told him about her assault, the details spilling out of her like gum-balls from a broken candy machine.
As she told him about her marriage and how Bret had see-sawed from charming to manipulative until the cruel side of him took over after Timmy was born, it was like she was dissolving layers of anger, numbness, shame, and hate. It was liberating. Ryder was the only person she’d opened herself up to completely. Deep down inside, she knew he wouldn’t blame her for not pleasing her husband enough or not being the required perfect wife of a rich financier.
After several tissues, she leaned against the arm of the sofa, worn out. At some point during her monologue, Ryder had scooted over and placed Savannah’s legs on his lap, but he gently pushed them down and then drew her close as he encased her in his arms. She tilted her head back and gazed into his eyes.
“The pussy you’re married to doesn’t appreciate you one fucking bit. He’s a goddamn asshole. You deserve good things—like love, support, and happiness.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks again, but he wiped them away and planted a tender and loving kiss on her lips. His unconditional understanding buoyed her and helped to loosen the stranglehold of humiliation. He put his hands on each cheek and kissed her again, only this time it was more passionate, more possessive.
Christmas Wish Page 14
