“Is everyone okay with pizza, or do you kids want something fancier?”
“Pizza!”
I cover my ears. Ryker pulls my hands away and drops a kiss on my nose. The kids make obnoxious kissing noises from the living room, hanging off the gaming recliners lined up in front of the big-screen television. I should chastise him for the PDA, but I don’t have it in me. He’s been so nice to the kids.
While they set up their video games, we hang out in the kitchen. After Ryker orders pizzas and drinks, I circle back to why he’s here and not at the party house.
“Don’t you want to live with guys from your team?”
“For what reason?”
“Bonding.”
“Not when one of them misled me. How long has Brett been going to Gio’s?”
“A year.”
“He knew all along about you and Shephard?”
“Yes.”
“Did he ever approach you?”
“Not inside the gym. I’m off-limits. A guy has to get Shephard’s permission to speak with me.”
“That so?” He leans his hip on the counter. Crosses his arms. “The owner is okay with this arrangement? Doesn’t his assery scare off the customers?”
“The opposite. Women like his overprotectiveness. They pay for private boxing lessons with him.”
“Either way, his rule is fucked up.”
“For a newcomer seeing the situation with fresh eyes, maybe. But Shephard and I have been doing this since we moved here my freshman year.”
“Yet he doesn’t live with you.”
“I—”
The doorbell stops me from explaining that part of Shephard’s and my unconventional relationship. Giving me a look that we’re not through with our conversation, Ryker pays for our food. The kids stop what they’re doing and gather around the kitchen table. Suddenly, I realize the table seats ALL of us.
“Thank you,” I say out the side of my mouth, taking small bites of my pizza.
“What for?” He gnaws on a piece of baked chicken, his side order. I don’t miss him eyeing the pizzas longingly. Poor guy.
“For buying a table that fits our group.”
“Our group. I like that.” His gaze drops to my mouth. Not missing a beat, he swipes a napkin from the table and dabs at the corner of my lips. “Pizza sauce.” He leans in and says low in my ear, “If the kids weren’t here, I’d lick and suck it off before I lick and suck off other places. Private places.”
Heat creeps up my neck and fans across my face. Goodness. I finish my meal in silence, liking the noises the kids make with their loud voices and laughter. After they’re done eating, the kids return to the other room, giving Ryker and I privacy.
“How long do we have the kids for?” Ryker pitches the pizza boxes in the garbage can.
I glance at the time on my cell and do math in my head. It’s Friday night and the parents are out on their respective dates.
Pete has a hot date too, and I want to make sure he has the time to win her over. He works too hard. Pours his heart and soul either into the homicide cases he’s working or into April, the little star in his life. No wonder he has little energy left over outside of work and family for romance.
“Three hours. Is it okay for their parents to pick them up here rather than meeting at the skating rink?”
We met there and divided the group. He took four in his truck, and four kids rode with me in my car.
“Hell yeah. You won’t have to drive the kids back. You can stay here with me. We’ll get alone time.”
He picks up his chair and scoots it close. When he sits, his knees touch my thigh.
“You coming to tomorrow’s home game?”
His large hand slips inside my back pocket. Thick fingers stroke my butt through my denim. My heartbeat quickens. My breathing too.
“I can’t,” I say, breathless.
Clearly understanding his effect on me, he leans in close. “Are you working?” His breath coasts over my ear, and his nose presses into my hair.
“I-I’m flying out to Chicago,” I stammer. “Sunday is my father’s birthday. I’m visiting his gravesite.”
“Aw, Harper, I’m sorry.” He slides his hand from my back pocket and lifts my chair until I’m facing him. “Do you want me to go with?”
“You’d do that? Fly to Chicago on short notice, and right after your game too? You’ll be exhausted.”
“To be there for you? Yeah.” He cradles my face in his palm.
“That’s not normal,” I point out. “It’s only been three weeks. You don’t know me, Ryker.”
“Then let’s start with why you were at my place, at my party. Doesn’t seem like your kind of scene.”
“It’s not,” I admit. “I overheard these girls talking. I’ve never been to a college party. Shephard forbids it.”
He scowls but doesn’t question me further.
“He wasn’t around that night. He had business in Chicago. He usually takes me with on his trips. He doesn’t like to leave me, un . . . um, alone.” I almost said unprotected.
What business did he have back home? Did Shephard return home to visit Sam in prison? He wouldn’t go back for his parents unless it was to pay his respects. They overdosed my sophomore year of college.
“I could tell the girls felt sorry for me. I’m sure it’s the reason they agreed to let me tag along.”
Sam. He had to have gone back to see Sam. Panic grows and spins in my core. Needing something to take my mind away from the possibility that Shephard’s trip home had something to do with my father’s murder, I gather up the dishes and put them in the dishwasher.
“I’m glad they did.”
Ryker’s honesty and earnestness sooths my panic. I dry my hands on the dishrag and return to my seat.
“How about it? Can I meet you in Chicago? You can show me your old stomping grounds, your favorite places.”
The only place that stands out, that haunts my nightmares, is the abandoned house hidden behind rows of industrial warehouses.
Boarded-up windows. Stained threadbare carpet. Graffiti-splattered walls. Sweat-slicked bodies. Musky and salty. The overwhelming urge to vomit. The barrel of a gun jammed against my temple.
Bile rises in my throat. I swallow. Fight through the growing panic. A thick finger slides across my brow and the other before trailing down my temple and jawline.
“Harper, you okay, babe?” Scowling, he shakes his head. “I’m sorry. You didn’t want me calling you that.”
“It’s all right.” I grasp his hand in mine and cradle it against my face. “I . . . I’m getting used to it. Keep at it, okay?”
Heaving a sigh, I shove my time in that dank room to the back of my mind.
“Thanks for the offer, but Shephard’s already going with. He paid for the tickets.”
I’ve never had a desire to return home to Chicago, but Shephard thinks seeing the reality of my dad’s gravesite will give me closure.
“What does he do that he’s able to up and leave whenever the fuck he wants?”
Thick tension squashes the heat in his eyes and his touch. If tone could hurt and maim, I’d be bleeding and in pain.
“He owns Gio’s Gym.”
His eyes widen. Realization dawns on his face.
“Gio is short for Giovanni. It’s his middle name.”
He remembers me telling April about my first crush, Giovanni, and my first boyfriend, Sam.
“Yes.”
“Fuck me.” He rams his fingers through his hair and blows out a breath. “No wonder he prances around like he owns the place. He does. What did he do in his past life? When you lived with him in Chicago?”
“He was a cop. Before that, the army. He was a Ranger.”
“Shit. He’s layers of complicated, isn’t he?”
“Savior and sinner.” What’s on my mind slips out of my mouth unfiltered. “He saved my life.”
“Sinner?”
“He took three men’s lives and dest
royed a life to have what he wants.”
“You.”
“Yes,” I admit, my voice above a whisper. “Please don’t ask me about the circumstances.”
Ryker pushes his chair back and stands. “You two not living together, is that fair game?”
I nod. Before I can answer his question from ages ago, Esther wanders into the kitchen, asking for a glass of water.
“Sure thing, E. Anything for you.” Ryker hands her a glass. “Everyone getting along out there?”
“Yes.” She covers her yawn with her free hand. “We got bored with the boys playing games, so April’s looking for a movie.”
“How about Moana?” he suggests. “It’s one of my favorite Disney movies.”
“Really?”
Her eyes get big. The back of my hand shoots to my mouth, covering my smile. This guy . . . Who would have thought he’d be into kids’ movies?
“Yeah, kid. I mean, when the ocean parts and she’s walking in slow-mo to Te Fiti, singing that kick-butt song, I teared up.”
“I . . . that’s cool, Ryker.” She gulps her water, studying him over the rim.
And if I didn’t know any better, the beginnings of a little girl’s crush for the big guy is starting before my eyes.
She sets the glass near the sink and hurries back to the others. We hear, “Ryker likes Moana!”
“Moana, Moana, Moana!” the kids chant.
Resting my arm along the top of the chair, I face him, unable to stop smiling. He makes the kids happy, and that counts for something in my books.
“They like you.”
“Does that mean they forgive me for bailing on them?”
“So that you can find and furnish a place for all of us to hang out? What do you think?”
“I’m thinking that’s a yes. Will it be a problem you spending your time here?”
“Shephard?”
“Yes.”
“He won’t like it, but I already told him it’s not his decision to make who I want to be with.”
“And that brings us full circle to why you two don’t live together if you’ve lived with him before. He moved here with you. For you. Why not go all the way and shack up together too?”
He comes over and grabs the seat across from me. He reaches for my hand. The opening song for Moana floats in from the other room. The boys are loud. I’m not hearing the girls except for April telling the boys to hush up.
Ryker excuses himself and disappears, then returns. As soon as he walks back in the kitchen, there’s nothing but blissful silence from the living room.
“What did you say to them?” What did he do to get them to quiet down so fast? Did he give them his intimidating stare-down? Or bribe them with sweet treats?
“I said if they behaved, I’d take them to the team’s party next Saturday.”
“You didn’t.” I can’t hide the surprise in my voice. “I thought you’d only take Collin?”
“And leave the rest behind? Nah. We’re one happy family and this surrogate dad is not leaving anyone behind.”
Surrogate dad? I’m ready to melt into a puddle at his feet. “I can take the girls shopping if you want to take the boys?”
“Next Friday we hit the mall?”
“Sure,” I say.
“We can rent a limo for the dinner. I’ll pick up the tab for everything.”
“Ryker, that’s too much.”
“It’s not a huge deal. I’m loaded.”
This guy.
“Are you always this forthcoming with how well off you are?”
“There’s no shame in having money.”
“Money attracts the wrong people,” I point out. “Knowing someone has a lot of it can make a person desperate.”
“Are you implying women line up at my door, begging for a piece of this”—he grabs at his crotch—“because they’re after my money?”
He’s so crass, but I’ve seen people do godawful things in the name of money.
“Accidents happen.”
“Like an illegitimate kid?” He stares at my mouth. Licks his. My cheeks heat. I nod.
“Are you after my money, Harper? Or are you in this for my rock-hard body?”
My, he’s not shy. He just says what’s on his mind. I like that, a lot. Different from Shephard.
Shephard internalizes his feelings and broods, then erupts with the least amount of provocation. It’s exactly what happened when I asked for more time in the boxing ring though I was ready to pass out from exhaustion.
The burden of protecting me is getting to him, more so after my father’s murder. If Sam’s guys can get to my dad in prison, how can Shephard keep me safe? Still, he had no right to treat another person the way he treated me, and he did apologize in front of the guys. I’m glad he did. I could tell the gym regulars respected him more for it.
“I’m not after anything except for you to keep my fridge full. Your idea, remember? You’ll ease my burden?”
“We should avoid that word.”
“Burden?”
“Ease.”
Oh.
Oh.
Laughter from the other room draws his attention to the spot above my head.
“I don’t think we’ll be interrupted for a while.” He walks over and occupies the seat next to mine again. “And if we are, so help me . . .” He takes my hand and laces our fingers. “Clue me in as to why you and Shephard don’t live together.”
We’re back to that loaded topic.
“Or is it too personal? I did give you my word I wouldn’t pester for pieces of your personal life if we decided to do this.”
“Did we decide? Are we ‘together’?”
“Didn’t we? I said I was in. Oh, shit.” He drags his fingers through his hair. “You never said the same. I’m sorry, Harper. I assumed the talk of us being solid—” He hangs his head.
I slide my finger under his chin and tip his head up until our eyes meet.
“I don’t live with him because he and I aren’t good together. The months I lived with him was our heaven and hell, made up of moments of deep desire and intense anger toward one another. Stay in proximity for too long, and he and I would destroy one another, Ryker.”
“But your morning runs, the time you spend with him in the ring—”
I open my mouth. He grasps my jaw in his large palm.
“The two of you run by me and my teammates every fucking morning. Why now when I’ve never seen you and him on that route?”
He’s questioning the timing. Is it fate or was it something Shephard and I planned? And for what reason other than to mess with him and his teammates’ routine? I turn my head, freeing me from his grasp.
“There’s construction along the path Shephard and I normally take. That’s why we took to running along you and your teammate’s route. It’s also well lit and not a lot of traffic.”
He nods, but he’s not dropping the subject of me with Shephard.
“At practice, Brett goes on and on about how good you are with your punches and blocks. Don’t keep what you do with Shephard from me, Harper. Not if you want something real and lasting to work between us.”
“How can there be when you’ll get picked in the NFL Draft and leave me behind?”
Slight lurching back of his body, as though I slapped him. I sigh.
“I’m sorry, Ryker. Not my place. Three weeks together does not real and lasting make.”
I don’t dare hope for anything more from Ryker. I just want to feel what normal can be like for someone with my traumatic experiences, even if it’s fleeting.
I don’t believe in fairy tales or true love. My dad killed my idea of what love could be like when he murdered my mother. And my mother was in over her head when she fell head over heels for my father without fully understanding what he was capable of beneath the charming façade and handsome face.
Ryker reaches over and sandwiches my hands in his. I look at them and see our differences. Small to big. Smooth to rough skin. Pale
to tan. But I also feel our similarities. His hold is gentle, comforting, and reassuring. I hope that’s how the kids see me, how Ryker is seeing me.
“Let’s take it one day at a time. With as fast as we’re moving—”
“We don’t want to crash and burn,” I interject.
“None of that.” He drops a kiss on his clasped hands, my own nestled in his.
Heat creeps into my cheeks. My heart skips a beat. For such a big and intimidating guy, he can be so gentle.
“So tomorrow you’ll hop on a plane with him?”
“Yes. We’ll be back Sunday night.”
“Come to my place afterward. Stay. Monday morning, you run with me and my team. You’re fast and can keep up. Can outrun us too, I’m betting. Afterward, I’ll take you out for breakfast. Fuck Shephard if he doesn’t like his girl staying the night with me. What do you say?”
I don’t dispute his claim that I’m Shephard’s. If I did, I’d be lying.
“I’d like that, Ryker. I’ll stay the night with you.”
17
Harper
I stare at the queen-sized bed. Of course Shephard booked us a room with a single bed. I toss my backpack on the overstuffed chair in the room and pull back my long hair into a ponytail with a scrunchie from my pocket.
The lock clicks, and the door swings open. Shephard walks in with a garment bag in his hand. I narrow my eyes.
“What’s in there?”
“Your dress. Shower. Pretty yourself up. We’re going out.”
“I’m tired.”
“And I’m not wasting the opportunity to spoil you. Between your classes, work, the kids, and running and sparring with me, it’s go, go, go for you. Let me take you out. Show you off. You’re so beautiful, Harper.”
He’s laying it on thick, but Shephard’s right. The pace has been non-stop lately. What’s the harm in enjoying ourselves? We don’t have plans until tomorrow morning.
He places the garment bag on the hook on the back of the bathroom door.
“I need to make a phone call and stop by the front desk. Meet me in the lounge in an hour. The reservation is under your name.”
I glance at the time on my cell. That’ll put us at six-thirty. Shephard leaves, and I check my messages. Crickets from Ryker. I scroll down to his last message. It’s from this morning, two hours before his game started.
Wicked (Dangerous Liaisons Book 1) Page 9
