21. RYDER
Chapter twenty-one
RYDER
Waking up with Tati pressed against Ashton and me felt like holding sunlight in my arms—warm, fleeting, everything . And watching her fall apart on my thigh, I realize just how addicting these women are going to be.
Tati, with her sweet melon scent and those wide, trusting hazel eyes. Carleen, with her sharp tongue, steady hands, and that flicker of vulnerability she tries so damn hard to hide.
I run a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the buzz still lingering in my chest. I’m ecstatic that Carleen’s signing the contract. Not just because she’s the best for the event—although she is—but because it means we have time. Time to settle, time to grow, time to prove that this isn’t just biology.
It’s something real .
Ashton will obsess over Tati—I already know it. He’s going to be draped over her, doting on her, teasing her, worshiping her every second he gets. And honestly? I’m right there with him.
But Carleen…
God, Carleen.
She’s something else entirely. She’s fire and steel, wrapped in soft brown curls and sharp eyes that see everything. There’s a weight to her presence, an unshakable calm that makes me want to drop to my knees and promise her the world.
And hell, I would .
Because under all that strength, there’s something fragile. Something she’s been holding back, afraid to show anyone—afraid to show us. But I see it. I feel it every time she looks at Tati with those protective eyes, every time she glances at Ashton and me with hesitation and hope warring on her face.
I need her to trust me. To trust us.
And we have time now.
I step into the kitchen, my eyes catching on Carleen immediately. She’s standing by the counter, arms crossed over her chest, her brow furrowed as she watches Ashton hover over a mixing bowl. She looks exasperated, her lips pressed into a thin line, but there’s amusement dancing in her eyes.“What is this supposed to be?” she asks, unimpressed.
I smirk as I get closer, leaning against the archway to watch the scene unfold.
Ashton, completely unbothered, grins over his shoulder at her, a streak of flour dusting the edge of his cheek. “Banana pudding.”
Carleen’s brow rises, her eyes flicking to the countertop—a disaster zone of scattered ingredients, sticky banana peels, and what looks suspiciously like marshmallow fluff. “That is not banana pudding,” she growls, pinching the bridge of her nose.
Ashton’s grin widens, his brown eyes glinting with mischief. “It’s my version of banana pudding.”
“It’s chaos,” she snaps back, but there’s no real heat in her voice.
Ashton shrugs, completely unashamed. “All great masterpieces start with a little chaos.”
Carleen huffs out a breath, muttering something under her breath about ‘messy Alphas’ and ‘useless kitchen etiquette.’ Carleen turns so that her back is to me as she leans over the counter, brow furrowed as she stares at Ashton’s chaotic concoction of supposedly banana pudding. Her hands are braced against the edge, knuckles white, like she’s trying so hard not to reach out and fix the mess in front of her.
I step into the kitchen, letting my presence fill the space, and I see the way her shoulders subtly relax when she notices me out of the corner of her eye. She doesn’t turn, but her breathing slows just slightly.
“Carleen,” I say softly, my voice low, steady.
She glances over her shoulder, her brown eyes sharp but tired around the edges. I nod toward one of the barstools tucked against the counter. “Come sit,” I murmur, keeping my tone light but firm.
Her lips twitch, like she’s about to argue, but then she sighs and steps back from the counter, walking around to the stool. She sits down, crossing her long legs, her hands folding neatly in her lap as she stares at me expectantly.
I step forward slowly, giving her space to move away if she wants. But she doesn’t. She stays exactly where she is, her chin tilted up as her brown eyes lock onto mine. When I’m close enough, I let my chest brush against her arm—just slightly, just enough to feel her warmth, to let her know I’m here.
She doesn’t pull away.
In fact, she leans into me—barely, just a fraction of an inch—but it’s enough to make something warm bloom in my chest.
“It’s easier to let him do what he does,” I say casually, tilting my head toward Ashton.
Carleen’s lips quirk into something that almost looks like a smile, and the tension in her shoulders melts just slightly. “I can see that,” she says, her voice softer than usual. “Tati mentioned something like that once—how food is meant to be enjoyed . ” She pauses, her brow furrowing as she glances at the mess Ashton is making. “But it’s hard to let go of the structure, you know? When everything has been about presentation and competition for so long, it’s hard to just let go . ”
Her words settle in my chest, and suddenly, I know exactly what I want to do.
“You know,” I start, my thumb brushing softly over her elbow, “I think maybe some of the issue is that you’re always trying to be perfect. Always trying to meet some invisible standard that only you can see.”
Her lips part slightly, her brow knitting together, but she doesn’t interrupt. She just watches me.
“What if…” I continue, tilting my head slightly, “just for one day, you let that go? What if you let yourself be messy, be loud, be— free ?”
Carleen’s lips twitch, just slightly, like she wants to argue. Like she wants to tell me that perfection is necessary , that it’s expected. But she doesn’t. Instead, she just stares at me, her brown eyes searching my face, like she’s looking for something. Maybe a crack in my resolve. Maybe a lie.
But there isn’t one.
I offer her a slow, easy smile and ask the question that’s been hanging in the air between us since the moment we met. “Do you trust me?”
Her breath catches in her throat, and for a second, she doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just stares at me with those big brown eyes, her lips slightly parted like she’s processing the weight of that question.
It’s more than just words. It’s a promise.
Finally— finally —she exhales a soft breath, her shoulders dropping slightly as if some invisible weight has been lifted. And then, for maybe the second or third time since I’ve met her, she gives me a real, genuine smile.
It’s not the polite one she gives clients. It’s not the tight-lipped one she uses when she’s trying not to lose her patience with Ashton. It’s soft, and warm, and real.
“Just one day?” she asks softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
I nod, my smile widening. “That’s all I need to prove it to you.”
Her lips quirk again, and I swear she almost laughs. But then, she just nods, her eyes holding mine with an intensity that makes something in my chest squeeze tight.
“Okay, Ryder. One day.”
Before I can stop myself, I lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead. When I lean away, her eyes are still locked on mine, something raw and vulnerable shining there.
Carleen clears her throat softly, her hands still gripping the counter behind her. She glances briefly at Ashton, who’s watching us from the other side of the kitchen with one brow raised and a smirk tugging at his lips. “What?” Carleen says, her voice sharp as she levels him with a look.
Ashton shrugs, the smirk widening into a grin. “Nothing. Just enjoying the show.”
Carleen rolls her eyes, but I see the faint pink that rises in her cheeks before she looks back at me. “Fine,” she says, her voice firmer now, more herself. “One day. But don’t think this means you get to turn my kitchen into whatever that is.”
She gestures vaguely at Ashton’s banana-marshmallow… thing .
Ashton clutches his chest dramatically, stumbling back a step. “Carleen, you wound me.”
I can’t help but chuckle as Carleen rolls her eyes again, turning back toward the counter and muttering something under her breath about ‘messy Alphas.’
But she’s still smiling.
And that? That’s enough for now.
Because I meant what I said—I’m going to prove to her that letting go, just for a little while, is worth it.
And if I’m lucky, maybe—just maybe —she’ll let me be the one who catches her when she finally does.