CHAPTER EIGHT
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Ryder
“CASH OR CREDIT?”
“Cash.” I handed over a wad that I normally divided between the workmen on a Friday night, so they had some beer money at the pub as a bonus for working hard. Guess today they’d have to go without, seeing as I hadn’t been back home since early this morning.
Those poor Chiweenies and that shitty human being who’d hurt them.
The clerk handed me my change and receipt, and I wheeled the cart from the small grocery store five minutes from Vesper’s house to her beaten up, crappy car. The girl really needed to invest in her life as well as her business.
She didn’t live in the best part of town, she drove a rusty bucket, and had no food in her fridge.
No wonder she was sick.
But she’s not your responsibility.
That was true, and the moment she was over the worst, I’d leave her to fend for herself.
I wanted to get her into bed. I wanted to find out where the connection between us could go. But I also didn’t want to push my luck and seem like an arrogant jackass .
I should never have come on so strongly in the corridor.
What the fuck was I thinking?
She was probably too polite to tell me to shut up about tampons and getting naked when all she really wanted to do was collapse in a flu-puddle on the floor.
Good one, Ry.
And here I was shopping on her behalf, forcing her to take a bath like a child, contemplating cleaning her apartment when she’d passed out, all because I had some stupid drive that meant I couldn’t leave someone hurting—just like I couldn’t leave an animal with an abuser or a lost creature without a home.
I have issues.
At least those issues were better than being an alcoholic or drug addict, but I still had trouble controlling the obsession to help.
She’s not lost or abused, you moron. She’s independent. She doesn’t need you.
And that made me grateful and also kinda sad.
I liked her.
Like really fucking liked her.
If she didn’t like me back…then that would absolutely suck. And if she did like me but had no intention of letting me help or care for her and give me the same in return (because that was what happy marriages were, according to the example set by my parents), then whatever chemistry we had would be wasted.
And that would be a damn shame.
If a therapist had access to my brain, I’m sure they’d say my compulsion to help others wasn’t just because of my parents’ final wish but because I had acres of guilt for not letting them care for me when I was younger.
That was the part I regretted the most. I thought I was too macho to need them. I loved them but I didn’t lean on them. At the time, I thought it was benefiting them to have such a capable son, but now I looked back and realised that by saying I didn’t need their help, it was a slap in their face.
Now they were gone, and I would’ve given anything for my mum to cook me chicken noodle soup if I was sick, no matter my age.
If Vesper wouldn’t tell her friends or family that she was ill, then I’d take care of her until she did.
I’d do what I needed to do to ease the guilt inside me.
What the hell are you saying?
I didn’t know anymore.
I was tired, confused, and turned on with no outlet to relieve my frustration.
I’d just have to accept my grumpiness because I wasn’t in the mood to psychoanalyse.
* * *
Back at Vesper’s, I found she did have someone in her life, after all.
He/she was waiting for me by the front door and attacked my legs as I walked inside with my arms full of groceries.
“What the hell?”
A can of coconut milk dropped from the bags as I leapt to the side, slamming onto the ground.
Talons sliced into my paint-splattered jeans. “Get off, you bloody animal.”
Shaking my leg, trying to get free, I hopped to the kitchen and quickly put down the items before I dropped the rest.
The moment my hands were unencumbered, the attack stopped and a blur of motion hurtled away. I’d seen the orange fluff ball briefly when we’d first arrived but hadn’t had the pleasure of an introduction.
Now, blood trickled from a small puncture in my calf as the villain took off down the corridor and slinked into a dark room that I assumed was Vesper’s bedroom.
“Visa?” Vesper’s voice sounded, followed by a loud cough. “What the hell are you doing out there, you damn cat? Don’t you dare terrorise those puppies.”
Leaving the groceries, I tiptoed down the corridor, listening to her mutter about felines and canines and how mortal enemies should learn to get along.
Is that how she thought about us? Different species and therefore enemies?
Too bad for her, I had no intentions of going to war with her. Unless she asked me to dress up like a soldier and capture her prisoner role-play style.
Shit, down boy.
My damn cock hadn’t been this hard since high school.
My hand landed on the doorknob, intending to let myself in. The bath salts would’ve bubbled (I think) to protect her decency. And if it hadn’t, I didn’t really care.
I wanted her.
So damn bad.
And because I wasn’t going to fuck her tonight, the least I could do was perve so I had spank-bank material to sort out my traitorous body. I had to get myself under control for the next time I was around her.
It’d been a long drought since I’d been with a woman. I didn’t want to embarrass myself by coming the second she touched me.
If we ever get that far.
I twisted the handle.
It didn’t budge.
Goddammit, she’s locked the door.
Splashing sounded inside. “Who—who’s there?”
“Who else? It’s Ryder.”
“What? I thought you left?”
Was the flu affecting her short-term memory?
“Yes, I did. But now I’m back. I went for food, remember?”
“What on earth for? I told you to go home. You’ve done your good Samaritan thingy. I’m home safe. Now please, leave me alone.”
Did something happen between me leaving and returning? She’d been nice to me before. Now, she was cold .
I knew I shouldn’t have left her alone.
Doubts had a horrible way of turning something right and good into something bad and wrong.
My temper itched into gear. “Wow, that’s gratitude for bringing you home.”
A pause, then a reluctant: “You’re right. I’m sorry. Thank you for bringing me home, Ryder, and for running a bath, but really…I must insist you leave.”
I smiled; not that she could see it. Even with my thread of annoyance, I was enjoying myself way too much to leave yet. “Only once I’ve fed you, Vesper. You’re my patient until I discharge you.”
I pressed my forehead against the door, murmuring, “Finish your bath, then come and find me. Eat what I give you. Let me give you some drugs to help you sleep. And then, maybe, I’ll obey and leave you alone.”
Another splash. “You’re beyond annoying. Has anyone ever told you that?”
I laughed. “Lots. I’ll take it as a compliment.”
There was no reply.
* * *
The sound of draining bath water sent me bolting into the kitchen to finish warming the potato and leek soup.
I hadn’t been snooping.
I would never snoop.
Not me. No way.
It wasn’t my fault her diary was open on her coffee table (who uses paper diaries anymore?) or her Netflix account wasn’t password protected.
From my non-snooping, I learned she loved classic romances such Pride and Prejudice and had a standing date labelled ‘Dogs and Dots’ at one p.m. every Thursday afternoon.
I had no idea what that was but I kinda wanted to know.
I couldn’t help that I’d found those little things. After all, I’d been searching her apartment for a nice fluffy dressing gown to give her after the bath because I was a sweet, non- snooping man who’d invited himself back to her place with outward intentions of caring for her but inward intentions of sleeping with her.
Despite my good and bad thoughts, I’d failed on the dressing gown hunt. Turned out, she owned hardly any clothing and definitely not a nice snuggly robe. So, I’d had to settle for rummaging in her chest of drawers and found some fleece pyjama bottoms and a baggy t-shirt that had a forest background with a beaver crossing its arms. The slogan said: You got wood? I got an axe. Bedtime is sleepy time. No eager beaver here.
I’d snickered. Her sense of humour had infiltrated her wardrobe.
A woman after my heart.
Just so long as she truly doesn’t have an axe when I approach her with my wood.
After stirring the soup one last time, I grabbed the clothing I’d found, and placed myself right outside the bathroom door.
Three…
Two…
The door opened and a towel-draped water sprite greeted me. Holy shit, her skin was the colour of honey and her blonde curls were damp-dark. The short black towel she hugged around her curves gave me a great view of her long legs and pink painted toes.
She screamed, clutching her chest.
My eyes locked onto the small towel, begging it to fall.
Her hand swatted out, whacking me on the bicep. “Oh my God , what are you doing lurking in my corridor? You damn well gave me a heart attack!”
I laughed, swallowing the sudden lust and angling away my hips. “Nothing. Just waiting to give you these.” Shit, it was hard dragging my eyes away from the droplet rolling down her cleavage.
I handed her the clothing. “Didn’t want you to get cold. Figured you could get dressed in the bathroom where it’s muggy and hot.”
Her mouth fell open. “Who the hell are you?”
Holding out my hand, I grinned. “Suppose we’ve never been officially introduced. I did kinda barge in on you that day with Heineken and the awful emergency. I’m Ryder Joseph Carson. I like swimming and—”
She ignored my polite introduction, stealing the clothes instead. “Yes, I know your name. That wasn’t what I meant. I meant why are you doing this? I’m not your responsibility. Shoo already.”
“You’re right, you’re not my responsibility. But why should I not do this? Doesn’t the world need more charitable individuals?”
“Are you saying I’m a charity case?”
I jammed my hands in my jeans pockets. “Well…”
“Wow, keeping me under house arrest and giving out insults.” She sneezed, her eyes welling up with flu tears. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”
That was a question I could answer.
Truthfully.
With no bullshit of any kind.
I bent to her level, inhaling vanilla and other girly smells from her bath. “You care for so many creatures. You put them first and you’re selfless when it comes to their wellbeing over yours.”
She froze as I cupped her cheek. “You’re not like most people, Vesper Fairfax. And I’m not a liar. I like you a fuck ton, and the sooner you realise that, the better off we’ll both be.”
My fingers sparked where I touched her. It took all my willpower to drop my hand and step back. “Go and dress—before I undo that tiny towel and kiss you stupid. Dinner is ready and I want you to eat.”