Chapter 6 - Ryder
“Ryder!” Paige cries out again, her nails dragging lightly down my back as I lift her and press her slick body against the cool glass of the display case.
She either hasn’t realized I’ve picked her up or doesn’t care.
Her legs wrap around me like instinct, giving me the perfect angle to drive into her deeper.
And I do. I give her everything, because watching her come undone for me, hearing my name break on her lips, is better than anything I’ve ever felt.
When her eyes flutter open, I catch her mouth in a hungry kiss. She tilts her head back to look down, trying to see where we’re joined, but her perfect tits and that soft, gorgeous body block the view. It’s a shame, but fuck, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I shift my hips and hit that spot inside her that makes her gasp and tighten around me.
Her pussy clenches again and again, pulling me deeper, milking me like she was made for this.
She’s wet, hot, and completely wrecked in my arms, a whimpering, breathy mess, and I want to keep her right here forever.
“Talk to me, sunshine,” I growl against her ear.
Her voice comes out broken, soft. “So good. Please don’t stop. Don’t… not until you cum, I…I want to feel you cum…”
She trails off, too far gone to form a full sentence. It only makes me grin against her neck. The sound of her needy, breathless pleading is exactly what I want.
“Good girl,” I murmur, thrusting harder. “I’m not stopping until you’re shaking around me, until everyone in this town knows exactly who’s making you feel this good.”
It takes another four minutes for me to cum.
Four minutes of her clenching around me so tight it feels like she’s trying to fuse us together.
Her breath fans hot against my ear, soft and frantic, her tits sliding against my chest with every thrust. Her thighs lock tighter around me, her body trembling, and her pussy…
fuck. It feels like she was made for me.
I’m certain of it. Just like I was made for her.
My hands grip her hips harder than they should, chasing that last pulse of heat until my release hits.
I bury my face against her neck, groaning as the pleasure rips through me.
For a heartbeat, there’s nothing but her body wrapped around mine, the world narrowing to the sound of her breath and my heartbeat hammering against her chest.
I kiss her neck, then her cheek, then her jaw, soft, quick kisses that melt into nuzzles. I gently bite her ear and whisper, still breathless, “See what you do to me? It’s more than… fuck.” I can’t even find the words.
“Yeah,” she pants against my shoulder, voice rough and warm. “Yeah, I see.”
I tip her chin up and kiss her, deep and hungry at first. Then slower. Softer. Gentler. Each kiss eases something in me, turns the fire into something warm and steady until it feels right to finally let her breathe.
She rests her head on my shoulder, laughing softly. “Your heart is so loud.”
“That’s on you, sunshine,” I murmur with a grin. “Making me feel old.”
“Thirty-eight isn’t old,” she argues, still a little breathless.
She playfully teases me as I soften and slip out of her, and I toss the condom into the bin behind me. The warmth between us doesn’t fade with the heat. If anything, it grows deeper, softer, threaded through our breaths and quiet laughs.
She pokes at my age, my job, the way I talk, but it’s more than playful banter. She asks questions too—real ones. Not the usual, shallow curiosities people toss my way. Not Why do you do it? or Don’t you get lonely on the road? or What about next season?
She asks if I’m addicted to the rush, if I love the bulls even when they’re trying to throw me, if I have a favorite. She wants to understand why I live the way I do, why I chose this path instead of something easier.
And I ask her questions back. Why she left the city when it’s supposed to be where people her age build their lives. Why she didn’t flirt back sooner if she wanted me. That one earns me a blush, a quick glance down at her body, and a quiet promise to tell me later.
We talk like this, skin still warm, breaths still mingling, and for the first time in a long time, it feels like someone actually sees me. Every thoughtful question, every honest answer, the way she lets her guard fall away and lets me in—it settles in my chest like something solid.
The way her hair falls loose against my arm, the way she looks at me without pretense or expectation, makes everything else fall away. No roaring crowds. No bulls. No road. Just her. Just us. And with every word, I realize I don’t just want her in my bed. I want her in my life.
Paige reaches behind the counter for her clothes. She steps into her underwear, then slides her dress up, smoothing it over her warm skin. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks still flushed, and I swear I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
I zip my jeans, pull on my shirt, and step closer to fix the strap of her dress. My fingers brush her bare shoulder, and she shivers. The soft smile she gives me isn’t shy anymore. It’s something better—trusting.
She’s not chasing me. She’s not asking what this means or talking about labels.
She’s not reaching for her phone to take a picture or post about sleeping with the town’s rodeo star.
She’s just here with me. Breathing the same air.
Enjoying the quiet after something wild. Maybe that’s all that matters.
Maybe helping her straighten the shop, brushing against her as we move around, stealing soft kisses when we pass each other, maybe just staying instead of walking away will be enough for her to look past the things that should scare her off: the fame, the age gap, the marks I’ve left on her skin, the fact that I’ve never been one for rules.
A man can hope.
I can make it happen.
We clean up in quiet harmony, the soft clink of trays and hum of the fridges the only sounds between us. I take the trash out for her because there’s no way I’m letting her walk out back alone at night. When I come back in, she’s standing by the door with the keys jingling lightly in her hand.
“Everything’s locked up,” she says.
“Yeah?” I glance at the counter, then at her, my grin tugging wider. “I don’t think I’ll ever walk into this bakery again without remembering this.”
Her laugh is soft, real, and it hits me low in the chest. “Yeah, I don’t think I will either.”
“Guess we kind of ruined your bakery innocence tonight,” I tease, tilting my head.
She snorts and shakes her head. “You’re impossible.”
“But charming,” I counter, stepping closer.
Outside, she fiddles with the strap of her dress again, then looks up at me through her lashes. “So…”
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” I say, brushing my knuckles along her jaw. “And if that oven burns you again, I’m getting a part-time job as your official oven opener. I prefer you unburned.”
She rolls her eyes, but the little grin that follows ruins her attempt to look unimpressed. She leans in, kisses me softly, and it’s nothing like the heat from earlier. It’s slower, sweeter, a promise wrapped in warmth.
I stay there until her taillights disappear down the road, then finally head to my truck. For the first time in a long time, I breathe without feeling like something’s missing.
**
I go into the bakery in the afternoon, almost whistling to myself.
I know today won’t be as intense as last night, but I can’t not see my girl.
Paige is mine. I’m not going anywhere, and I want her to know it.
What we did was more than fucking. It was more than sex.
It was a leap into a future we can both have.
But when she takes my order and moves right alone, gold and nervous, giving me her ‘polite’ smile and customer service talk instead of letting her gaze linger on me, I know something’s going on.
Normally, it’s the kind of thing I’d comment on. I’d ask her if winter came early or if there’s an arctic breeze blowing in, but her distance feels like a warning, especially since she keeps her hand off the counter we made the most of last night.
I put on a smile when she gives me the slice of pie and clear my throat. “Thanks, Paige.”
Her eyes meet mine, then she looks away.
The shift is obvious. Last night, she was talkative, bubbly, starting to open up to me, but now she’s drawing back.
Was I too intense? Did she think about the age difference?
Fourteen years can feel like a lifetime and my life hasn’t exactly been easy.
Is sex all she wanted from me? To scratch the itch and calm the tension between us? No, this is not my Paige.
Did I jump the gun?
She wanted it, I know she did. She dared me, encouraged me on verbally and physically, but was it too soon for her? Did we both get caught up in our emotions? Did she start overthinking on the ride home? Was I too rough?
I try to process it while I eat.
“Paige, I know what that girl said, but-” Maya starts.
“It’s okay. I think I should practice icing for that birthday cake we have. My letters are still off,” she answers.
Maya watches her go with something like regret in her eyes, but she nibbles her bottom lip and manes the counter.
Her eyes flick to me and away. Maybe Paige’s distance isn’t about me.
Maybe she’s just not ready to let anyone know about us yet.
We did jump into this fast, and I can’t blame her for wanting to keep it quiet for a while. She’s careful. Private.
Tomorrow will be easier. I’ll show her I’m not going to push or out us before she’s ready. She can trust me with this. With us.
The next day, I come in again. Consistency is important. Even if I’m not here at the same time, Paige stays behind the counter this time. I flash her a warm smile. “Good to see you again. How’s your day been?”
“Good. Do you want the special today?” She asks.
Such a short reply. My brow furrows. There’s almost no one here. Maya isn’t behind her. Who would find out? I cock my head to the side and clear my throat. “That would be great. If you have a second, that would be better.”
She hands me another slice of pie and steps back, dodging eye-contact.. “Anything to drink?”
“What do you recommend?” I ask, eager for more of her time, more conversation, more of anything.
Her eyes flick to me, then away. No lingering. No wonder. Doesn’t she feel this too? She has to. I’m not insane. I don’t lose my mind over a woman like this. It’s unique, it’s rare. It wounds me to think that I read her wrong, that I’m reading too much into this.
So I take the lemonade that pairs perfectly with the cherry pie and chew while I think. I want to beg her for answers since her silence is so damn loud. It’s suffocating.
But I have my pride. I won’t beg. I won’t. She’s not chasing me and she hasn’t since the start. She’s not like so many other people in my life. So I’ll prove I’m not what she expects either. Paige is worth it.
I catch bits of her voice as she talks with others, light and polite. She’s sweet, friendly, professional. She smiles for them. She makes small talk. She lets them in, even if only a little.
But not me.
I’m the only one she doesn’t talk to. And that silence hits harder than I want to admit. It burns. It’s personal.
The next day, her silence speaks louder than any words could. She sets another summery pie and a drink in front of me, then drifts away like she’s afraid of standing too close for too long. A distance that wasn’t there before.
And then it happens. A quick glance. The faintest blush. A flash of something she doesn’t say.
It twists inside me like a hook.
I overwhelmed her. That has to be it. She must be regretting letting me in, convinced I’ll be gone soon. Back on the road. Back to the life that’s kept me moving and restless for too long.
But I’m not. Not this time. I don’t plan to.
She’s here. And seeing her every day feels better than staring at the endless blur of highways, testing the limits of an aging body that’s tired of being rootless. I’ve missed feeling like I belong somewhere. And she’s the last piece of that puzzle sliding into place.
But the thought that I might have scared her off makes my chest feel too tight, like someone’s cinching a rope around it. Restraint sits in my throat like something choking me, pressing against everything I want to say but can’t.
If she needs slower, then slower it is. I’ll give her space, even if it feels like swallowing shards of glass. Because she’s worth it. And I’d rather hold back than lose the one thing that’s finally made me feel like I could stay.
Anytime Maya mentions me over the next three days, Paige suddenly finds something else to do.
Wiping down a spotless counter. Restocking shelves that don’t need it.
Checking on the ovens like they might suddenly sprout wings.
She doesn’t yell. She doesn’t argue. She just…
disappears into tasks, careful not to give me a single opening.
I try to find those moments with her. Little ones.
The way we used to steal glances and brushes of hands.
A comment about the morning, a quiet offer to help, anything to get her to look at me the way she did before.
But every time I get close, she slips away—busy, distracted, unreachable.
And it’s starting to weigh heavy. Not in sharp bursts, but like a slow, steady bruise spreading deeper every day.
Her silence is louder than any rejection I’ve ever heard. But still, I keep showing up. Because silence, no matter how suffocating, is easier to live with than hearing her say she doesn’t want me.
I keep telling myself that once she softens, once she realizes that when I said she was mine I didn’t mean for a single night, she’ll talk to me. She’ll either let me down gently or tell me what’s really going on.
But I won’t ask.
I’ll just keep showing up.
I’ll be steady. Consistent. The man who doesn’t bolt when things get complicated. I’ll give her the space she seems to need, even when it feels like I’m swallowing down my own frustration with every breath.
Because the truth is, I don’t know if I could stand to hear it if she’s changed her mind. I don’t know what it would do to me to hear the one woman who’s gotten under my skin in a week and a half say she doesn’t want me.
So I’ll stay where she can see me. Not pushing. Not demanding. Just a quiet reminder that I’m here. That for her, I’ll be patient. Even when it hurts.