3. Copulate
Copulate
G uilt tugged heavy in Ryder’s chest. For the first time in, who the hell knew, years maybe, he left his phone in the car.
He was too far away for his watch to connect, so he had no link to the outside world.
And he was immersed in a golden opportunity to network with half a damn pro football team, all donning Super Bowl rings.
Instead, he quietly ate dinner surrounded by his family.
At least Claire and Grady weren’t codependent, and while the wedding party and significant others ended up at one table, she gave up her seat for Finn’s widower dad so he could sit with his kids.
So, at least Ryder got to catch up with Claire.
It could be awkward, especially as he’d been a shitty boyfriend, and honestly, probably not that good of a friend either.
Oddly enough, they had an easier time visiting now than when they were together.
Gushing toasts. Adorable cake in the face, sweetly cleaned off. No thrown flowers or garter belts, thank fucking hell, as he abhorred that weird and criminally offensive act where singletons were forced to either pretend or admit they were looking for marriage.
It should have been a miserable evening, but damn, watching Zoe was like a mini vacation. The woman had energy. Quick to laugh, confident. She glowed.
Not so long ago, before Claire, anyway, Ryder would have added a swagger to his step and crossed the dance floor. He would have flashed a wink as he reached Zoe, and claimed his dance in a possessive takeover from his brother.
Tonight, he… well, okay.
Grady had, after all, moved in on Claire before she’d dumped Ryder. No hard feelings, but he had a hell of a debt to collect on. And for a dance with Zoe? Definitely the right moment.
Ryder ditched his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and teased a hand in his hair, smoothing it but leaving a little rebellion in it as he crossed midway through the song. If he’d learned anything from losing his girlfriend to his brother, it was that a little rebellion was sexier than perfection.
“Oh, hey, Grady, I think I overheard Claire talking to someone about some rescue cows that needed new homes?” Ryder snuck a glinting look at Zoe, and she bit her lip to stifle a laugh, squinting mischievously at him.
Grady stepped back and huffed a sigh. “We haven’t even broken ground on the barn yet.” He grumbled and rolled his eyes, but the adoration in there nagged at Ryder. Fuck. If Claire had brought home cows when they were dating—not that there was room in the Phoenix townhouse—Ryder would have flipped.
As Grady dashed across the room and looked for Claire, Ryder smugly offered a hand for Zoe to either slap away or accept.
She laughed and shook her head, but she skipped the hand and slid both arms over his shoulders. A rush of butterflies filled his chest at the move, as she drew in close. Whatever she thought of him, probably deservedly, she was giving him a big fucking chance.
As the rhythm picked up, his mind quieted for the first time in ages. Of course, the music pumped so loud, and the beat so heavy with bass, he couldn’t hear himself think.
Even when she turned with the music, moved her feet, her arms, she didn’t stop touching him. A light brush over his abdomen. Fingertips teasing in his hair. Those lush brown eyes locking him into her world. After several dances, too many, slow and fast and everywhere in between, Ryder was buzzing.
A new song came on, and he should probably do something, say something, like, maybe see if she wanted to go for a walk and talk.
Bizarre synthesizer sounds twerked oddly, but it was a surprisingly movement-inducing song.
Zoe laughed as they had to get creative with their moves to keep up with the accelerating rhythm, and they weren’t the only ones, clearly a DJ trick to spice things up.
“Eek,” she squealed suddenly and crossed her arms over her chest.
Eyes wide, Ryder froze and asked, “What? Are you okay?”
“Bra malfunction.” She bit her lips together and scanned the room. “Help,” she said with a snorty laugh.
He glanced down and erupted instantly in a laugh. In the magic of the moment, she’d sprouted a second set of boobs. Or, the strapless bra had slipped down. He couldn’t help but laugh, but he quickly cleared his throat and asked in a serious voice, “What can I do?”
One hand braced over her chest, she patted and tested, scowling as she glared down helplessly. “Lead the way and I’ll hide behind you.”
He headed for the kitchen, aiming for the back bathrooms that the guests wouldn’t have access to.
“Not the kitchen.” Right behind him, her voice was still filled with amusement but a shrill of panic under the giggle.
“Right,” he said, realizing it might still be full of her employees.
He veered toward the main hall and led the way past chattering guests all the way to the foyer, voices echoing under the high ceilings and marble floors, and found the bathroom under the stairs nearest to the front door. He leaned close to hear over the noise of the house, and tapped on the door.
No answer.
He grasped the golden egg knob and twisted, the tall but angled door swinging open. Wow, his mother really needed to let Haley redo the entire house, but he knew she was doing room by room for her blog. This bathroom was… unique.
“Go ahead.” He motioned Zoe ahead, into the shiny gold, white, and tropical bathroom. The plants couldn’t be real, no natural sunlight, but it was like a glam jungle in there.
She slipped past and closed herself in.
He waited outside and leaned against the wall by the door, taking advantage of the quiet moment.
Under the sounds of the crowd, the music, the chatter, he heard her shuffling and cussing. Then she laughed riotously. A half second later, the door jerked open a few inches. “Ryder?” she hissed.
“I’m here,” he said, turning and seeing things had not improved.
Zoe held the door with one arm, her other braced over her chest, all four boobs still present, and one delicate strap of her dress had snapped, the end sticking out like a stray wire. “I, um… little problem here.”
“Um… what can I do?” he asked helplessly. “Do you want my shirt?”
“Yes please. I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”
She held open the door and motioned for Ryder to join her.
Even the toilet seat was gold. The sink. Wherever he stood, at least one palm branch was touching him.
He started unbuttoning his shirt, while Zoe stood next to him and was reaching behind her to try to grasp the slipped strapless bra again.
“Need a hand?” he asked, trying not to laugh at the contortions she was getting into.
She tipped her head back and grumbled a throaty laugh.
“You know, bras are stupid. Some of us don’t really need one.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, even wee boobs jiggle and sports bras are appreciated.
And, I appreciate the boost from a padded bra, but strapless bras are not made for us flat-chested ladies. This is ridiculous.”
She turned away so her back was to him, and held the front of the dress up.
Pure fucking torture, she slid the intact strap off her shoulder and lowered the dress so he could reach the clasp.
Ryder froze and his breath choked in his lungs and he almost squealed with helpless lust. Like her shoulders, her back was toned and smooth and the bare shoulders were killing him. “Um. Zoe?”
“Yeah?” she asked lightly and turned to look over her shoulder.
“Not saying I haven’t been hoping to end the night undressing you, but… holy shit this is… um… I’m having a bit of a shy spell, apparently.”
Eyes rich with amusement, she grinned over her shoulder at him. “I’d rather not venture into the middle of the crowd looking like I’ve just had a bathroom romp at my brother’s wedding.”
Ryder bit down hard on his tongue and lifted his hands to her back. Silky smooth and warm and…
He tried to keep it light and rein in his reaction as he started down the four clasps.
“So, you’d rather we both look like we just had a bathroom romp? An untamable bulge in my slacks, while the woman I’ve been dancing with is wearing my shirt?”
No mercy, she just laughed, tipping her head back so the ends of her hair brushed over his fingers.
There was no gentle way of prying the clasps open, so he finally squeezed the bra an extra millimeter tighter for leverage. It worked, and the first row snapped free. “How did this fall down? How did you even get it on?”
“Creatively. Anyway, I lack the boobs to hold it up, or, well, I suspect that’s the problem. I’ve never found a strapless bra that fits, so I’m not sure how they’re supposed to stay up.”
Unable to resist, he looked over her shoulder at her reflection. The false boobs from the bra were bigger than what she had, and the delicate fabric accented every detail of her nipples. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I like you better without the bra.”
He busted the next hook as he brought her another layer closer to freedom and comfort.
She fluttered an eyeroll. “Nipples.”
He froze and snorted a laugh, looking up until he met her look in the mirror. “I’m a fan.”
“No, I mean, without the bra, it's like two pointy beacons are calling out from my otherwise flat chest. As much as I think society needs to accept that humans have nipples, everyone stares, and it gets weird.”
The final two clasps snapped off, and the bra flung open. Zoe grabbed the thing and wiggled in happy freedom. Red marks marred her skin where the bra had dug in all night, then lighter red marks where it had been sitting since the fall.
“I promise to not stare at your nipples.”
“I don’t mind if you do,” she said easily, glaring at the offending garment she held in one hand, her other still holding up the dress.
“On that note, if I was going to be in town longer, I’d ask you out tomorrow night.”
“Need to rush out of here tonight, Cinderella?”
He tipped his head back and laughed from deep in his throat. “Frighteningly fitting. I drove here in a pumpkin.”