Chapter 9 - Paige
I ask myself again what the hell I’m doing.
Sitting in Ryder’s truck, the countryside rolling by, town shrinking behind us with every mile.
I thought about saying no. I probably should have.
But something about the way he’s always there—the steady presence I’ve started to rely on—made me panic at the thought of him deciding today was the day he’d give up.
Even though I don’t want to want Ryder, I do.
And no one can untangle that mess but me.
The idea of him walking away shouldn’t hurt, but it does.
I’ve gotten too used to him. His smile. The quiet strength in his eyes.
The woodsy, earthy scent that clings to him.
Thinking about going back to something less—someone less—feels like standing in the shadow of a fire I’ve already felt burn through me.
“I promise we’re not as far from town as you think,” he says, breaking the silence. His voice is low, warm, too easy to fall into. “I’m driving slow.”
“Why?” I ask, because asking is safer than feeling.
“This is the second time we haven’t had something between us,” he answers.
I glance at the console and arch a brow. “The console’s between us.”
He looks at me then, really looks, like he’s peeling away the layers I keep wrapping around myself. “That’s not what I meant. Counters are easier.”
The words land heavier than I expect. I don’t need him to explain. I know exactly what he means. All the things I’ve avoided—questions I haven’t asked, answers I haven’t given—they’ve built a wall I keep hiding behind.
And now, there’s nothing between us but the air, the quiet hum of the truck, and the pulse pounding in my ears.
Then he stops. I don’t really understand why, but he gets out of the truck, opens the door for me, and holds it open, offering me his hand, then wrapping his arm around me when I stumble.
I swear I see the whole gorgeous night sky reflected in his eyes even though it’s impossible since he’s staring at me.
I swallow tightly. “Sorry.”
“We didn’t talk much before we had sex,” he says boldly, directly. “We dove in and I don’t regret it for a second.”
“That’s ... good. The second part, I mean.”
“If it was too fast, I want to know. If we need to backtrack and start with dating, tell me so I can knock your socks off. If you don’t want more or I overwhelmed you, tell me to fuck off ... but only when I bring you back,” he answers, his whole body tightening at the end.
He shakes his head, then leads me towards an unfinished cabin.
The roof is mostly finished with one section being repaired, the second floor is obviously not fully done, but the stairs are, there’s more than a skeleton of a home here, and with the dust on the floor, the logs piled to the side, the saws, hammers, nail guns, everything, it’s obvious that it’s a work in progress.
“Are we allowed here?” I ask, trying to regain control of my emotions.
“It’s mine,” he answers, leading me over to a covered couch, shielding my eyes, then pulling the tarp off. He lights a few lanterns and sits down with me. He meets my eyes unflinchingly. “The groundwork was laid, but I bought it the day after we met.”
“W-why? You’re not too old to tame bulls! You have a huge career and can train others and ... I thought you liked traveling,” I argue.
“I didn’t say the full story. The truth is that…
I hate it. I hate the long stretches of road, the weight of fame, the empty nights in hotel rooms that never feel right.
I miss deep friendships and quiet time. I want a real life .
.. and I cannot stop thinking that I would like that life to be with you. ”
He doesn’t look away. Doesn’t flinch. If anything, he seems to relax when he says it.
I rub my knees, suddenly hyperaware of myself. I chose a cute dress today—something flattering but safe. Now it feels like it’s offering me no armor at all.
“Ryder…” I whisper, unsure where to even start.
He waits. Patient. Solid. His hand rests in the space between us on the couch, palm up like an invitation.
“I don’t know what to do with you,” I admit quietly. “We haven’t really talked. Not like we should. I still feel like we don’t know each other well enough. I know who I am. And I think I know who you seem to be. But I don’t…”
He cuts in gently, his voice steady but low.
“You don’t know what you do to me. You don’t see how impatient I get during the day because I want to see you.
You don’t notice how people look at you, how they lean in when you talk.
You’re magnetic, Paige. Bright. People want to be near you—not because you’re new, but because you’re you. ”
His eyes find mine, and this time there’s no teasing in them. Just heat. Steady and real. “I want you, Paige. Not just to touch you. Not just to look at you. I want you.”
My breath catches. “So you… you want me for more than just… sex?”
“Yes,” he says without hesitation, a hint of a grin playing at his lips. “Well, for sex and more. I want all of it. You. Us. Whatever we can build.”
I fidget with my hands. “What if we fail?”
He tilts his head slightly. “What if we don’t? I’m a focused man, sunshine. I don’t back off easily. When I want something, I figure out how to make it work.”
I swallow, my voice softer now. “Can we work?”
“I’m staying,” he says, his smirk softening into something earnest. “And I’d really like to find out.”
He’s waiting for me to meet him half way.
He’s sliced through every worry, proved himself in silence, with action, and now words.
He hasn’t worn me down with pleading and puppy dog eyes, he’s proven what some part of me knew every morning – that he’s stable, he’s in this.
Because somehow, we make sense in a way that defies logic.
Maybe it won’t always feel this fragile.
Maybe it will make sense someday if I just let it.
I slide my hand into his and move closer. “Start wrong and finish right?”
He chuckles. “Nothing we do together is wrong.”
He kisses me slowly, pulling me onto his lap and nearly sighing when I rub his chest and kiss him back.
I love that he takes what he wants, that he can finesse as well as he can manhandle a situation.
I’m still shaking from the raw intensity of our conversation, feel vulnerable and seen in a way that makes every touch and tender kiss feel deeper and more meaningful.
I fall into Ryder. His growing hunger, the traces of tenderness that become worship as he slowly unzips the back of my dress just to spread his hands over my shoulder blades and tug me closer. He licks deeper into my mouth, leaving me trembling and tugging at his shirt, wanting more.
“You can say no, sunshine. Tell me if I’m rushing, tell me if I’m too wild,” he says.
I shake my head.
“Then own what you want. Let me hear it while I worship every curve of your body,” he says, his voice rough, strained.
I run my fingers through his hair as he gently tugs my dress from under me and bundles it around my hips, his fingers spreading over my thighs with obvious reverence. The sound that leaves his chest is dark and low.
“Undress me,” I say, hoping my voice sounds steadier than I feel. “Remind me what I do to you.”
His eyes search mine, then he kisses me hungrily, his hands slide further over me, squeezing my love handles and hauling me closer to him to prove they deserve the name, to prove exactly how much he likes them.
His low groans, the satisfied sounds that leave his lips as he drags my dress higher and higher, appreciating every inch of my body just like he promised drives me insane.
I roll my hips on his, feeling the bulge in his jeans and wanting to feel more of it, more of him. “Ryder.”
“Yes, sunshine,” he says as I tighten my grip in his hair a moment while he nuzzles my cleavage, licking and teasing my breasts with the promise of more.
I lift my arms to let him pry my dress off me, then he nibbles the strap of my bra, dragging it down my shoulder while palming my breasts, circling my nipples with his thumbs through the gauzy fabric until I arch and let my hands slide down his chest. I tug at his shirt, prying it over his head and bringing him right back to my mouth.
We’ll have everything tonight. No room for restraint, questions, or doubts. I want him. He wants me. He’s willing to stay, I’m willing to dive in. I don’t want anything between us, including clothes.
I trace the contours of his muscles as he explores every inch of me, his hands hungry but reverent. He fumbles with my bra because he keeps getting distracted—kissing my neck, murmuring against my skin, purring praise that vibrates through me.
“You’re perfect,” he breathes against my ear. “Every fucking curve. So soft. So damn beautiful.”
My fingers find the trail of hair leading down his stomach, and I can feel the way his breath catches. “How are you real?” I whisper, because it’s the only thing that comes close to what’s racing through me.
He tilts his head back slightly, a small smile ghosting over his lips before he leans in again. “I’m very real, Paige. Even if I’m half convinced you’re a goddess. So decadent. So wonderful. Perfect for me. Fucking flawless.”
Every word is punctuated by kisses that burn across my skin, leaving me flushed and shaking with want.
“Please,” I whimper, my voice barely more than a tremor.
His mouth finds mine, hot and sure, before trailing back to my jaw. “I like how you didn’t even notice anyone else at the bakery,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “You only looked at me. Because you know you’re mine. And you want to be mine.”
I undo his belt slowly, deliberately, my hands brushing his skin as heat coils low in my belly.
“Rodeo royalty,” I hum, meeting his gaze. “Are you sure you want to settle for me?”
He groans, gripping my ass like he’s afraid to let go. “It’s fucking clear to everyone I’m not settling. You’re more than I could ever deserve. More than I ever thought I’d get.” His eyes darken as he looks at me like I’m the only thing in the room.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a condom. I take it from his hand and slide down to my knees, my pulse pounding.
I want this. Him. All of it. Ryder isn’t just cocky and alpha. He’s steady, capable, intense, and so goddamn devoted it makes my chest ache. I didn’t stand a chance the first time he looked at me and lassoed my heart.