Chapter 14
Fourteen
Ryker
Iclocked the way her shoulders relaxed the second Jill left the bar. Ginny kept her expression neutral, but I know enough by now to realize it’s a mask.
“Tarryn’s called it an early night,” she says, looking at her phone. “And Beckett and Sadie are off having dinner with a buddy of his from med school. It’s just you and me.”
I arch a brow. “Dangerous combination.”
“Should we take our drinks upstairs?” she asks.
“We could,” I say. “But it’s stopped raining. Do you want to get out of here? The sun won’t set for a bit. Maybe rent a bicycle and ride over to Stanley Park before it gets dark?”
That gets me a real smile, one warm enough to melt the tension in her posture. “Sounds like a date.” She fingers her glass and bites her lip.
“You can call it whatever you want,” I say, standing and jerking my chin toward the front door. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before someone ropes us into something else.”
Ten minutes later, we’re outside the Rosewood, helmets in hand, scanning the row of rental bikes.
“I feel like I should warn you,” Ginny says, straddling a bright blue cruiser with a basket. “I used to ride the seawall almost daily for my workout, so I take it pretty fast.”
“Good,” I say, selecting a bike of my own. “I ride like I’ve got something to prove.”
Our transaction complete, we take off through the edge of downtown and snake our way into Stanley Park.
The wind off the water is crisp and cool, the city buzzing behind us as we dip into the quiet shade.
It’s beautiful out here—trees towering overhead, the scent of cedar and ocean mixing in the air, the path curving along the edge of the bay like it was built just for us.
Ginny glances over her shoulder as we ride, her hair whipping in the breeze, and for a second, it’s easy to forget all the crap we’re trying to outrun. We’re just two people. Moving. Laughing. Free. And damn if I don’t wish I could freeze time right here.
“Hey!” she calls back. “You still with me, or am I losing you?”
I pedal harder to catch up. “Not a chance. I’m just pacing myself. Wouldn’t want to humiliate you.”
She laughs, and the sound settles inside me. We follow the curve of the seawall, Ginny just ahead, legs pumping. She points to the seaplanes in the harbor, circling overhead before they skim the surface and land in a spray of water.
“They look like they’re barely touching down,” she says as we pause, our bikes side by side. “I forgot how majestic it is here.”
“Yeah,” I say, watching one dip low, wings tipping. “It’s like they’re dancing.”
She glances at me. “That’s unexpectedly poetic for you.”
I smirk. “I contain multitudes.”
She laughs, then pushes off again, calling over her shoulder, “Race you to the totems!”
Our tires hum against the path. She’s fast, faster than I expected, but I’ve got longer legs and more stubborn pride.
Still, I let her win.
Just barely. She jumps off her bike with her arms raised in victory. “I am the queen of speed.”
“Only because I let you be.” I brace myself on the handlebars, catching my breath.
She points a finger at me. “Liar.”
“Believe what you want,” I say. “I was distracted by the view.”
She snorts. “Smooth.”
We wander toward the collection of towering totem poles nearby, vivid with color and history. She falls quiet, studying each carving with a reverence I hadn’t expected, her fingers brushing over the names and stories etched into the plaques.
“They’re beautiful,” she says. “You ever think about how much these mean to people?”
“You can feel it,” I agree. “Like the past is still breathing through them.”
She looks over at me, seeming surprised again. “Multitudes.”
I grin. “Told you.”
We return to our bikes and loop around the park, detouring along the waterfront where couples walk hand in hand, kids zip past on scooters, and the world feels…normal. Peaceful. Like we’re a couple whose families haven’t hated each other for generations.
“Let’s take a picture,” she says, pulling her phone from her pocket.
I raise a brow. “You sure? You might want plausible deniability after this afternoon.”
She grins. “Just smile, Paradise.”
We pose with the harbor and mountains behind us, one with me pretending to fall off my bike, one with her flashing peace signs and sticking out her tongue, and one where I loop my arm around her shoulders and she laughs, leaning into me without even realizing it.
That one’s my favorite.
As we scroll through the shots, she shakes her head. “We look like idiots.”
“We had fun, so who cares? We’re not worried about the Black Bear News running the photo.”
“True.” She laughs again, eyes squinting from the sun, cheeks flushed. “This was…nice.”
“Yeah,” I say. “It was.”
We’re quiet for a second, watching the waves roll in and the city glint gold in the distance.
Then she turns to me and nudges my arm. “So…dinner?”
“A date with food too?”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t push it.”
But she’s still smiling when we turn our bikes back toward the hotel.
And this time, I don’t let her win.
We return our bikes just as the rain starts again, and we scoot into a small noodle house.
“I hate it,” Ginny says randomly over dinner.
I’m not sure if she’s talking about the girls cackling at the next table, the rain, the traffic, Vancouver. “Hate what?” I ask.
“The gift shop. It feels like a cage.” I must still look confused because she adds, “At the vineyard. I feel like I’m dying in there, stocking jam jars and arranging scented candles like it’s my life’s calling. And any changes I make, my mother comes in and undoes them.”
“That’s surprising,” I say. “I feel like you’d have good ideas.”
“My mother doesn’t think so.” She sighs.
“But I do know what works. In the meantime, I know how to fake it. I have a degree in marketing, and I worked four years at a firm I actually liked. But being part of the family business isn’t me.
What I really love is making jewelry and seeing people wear it. ”
“So…why’d you leave Vancouver? I get breaking up with Jeremy, but you didn’t have to move home.”
She sighs, and I squeeze her hand. “I didn’t come back because I missed the vineyard,” she says.
“I had to leave because I’d made my life all about Jeremy.
Jill was my only friend outside of work.
His friends were my friends, and I couldn’t stay in that situation.
” Her voice cracks just slightly. “I had nowhere else to go.”
My jaw tenses. “That’s brutal.” I want to go back in time and rip that guy out of her life.
She didn’t deserve that kind of isolation.
No one does. But I know she doesn’t want sympathy.
So instead, I just give her my time. Without strings, without pressure.
Just space to breathe if she wants it. “I’m so sorry, Ginny. ”
She shrugs, but it’s defensive. “Yeah, well. Lucky me. I traded one mess for another.”
We’re quiet for a second. “You know, I was at the last Black Bear Valley Wine Consortium meeting. They’re planning a major expansion, trying to turn the whole region into a destination, like Napa or the Columbia Valley.”
Her eyes widen. “Seriously?”
“Dead serious. They’re looking for fresh ideas. Smart leadership. I think it’s part time, so you could still work on your jewelry business.”
She doesn’t answer, but her brows draw together like she’s already calculating next steps. I let the silence stretch, hoping she fills it with possibility.
After a moment, she looks up. “I know the wine business. And I’m good at marketing. Do you know someone I should talk to?”
“Marc Warner,” I tell her. “He’s the director. He’d take a meeting. Especially with someone who knows the area and has actual strategy experience.”
She kisses my cheek, quick but warm. “Thank you.”
We linger over dinner until the plates are cleared and the candles burn low. By the time we step outside, the night air is cool and quiet, and the walk back feels shorter than I want it to.
As we approach the hotel, I grin. “You know, I have my own room.”
She lets out a low laugh. “Tarryn would figure it out in about thirty seconds.”
“She might,” I say. “But she might also understand.”
She looks like she’s trying not to hope too hard. And maybe I’m trying not to care too much. But something about this moment feels like it matters.
Ginny presses her lips to mine. It’s not rushed or desperate. It’s intentional. She pulls back, but her gaze lingers. “Goodnight,” she whispers. “Thank you for a lovely evening. I’ve got something I need to do.”
She disappears into the hotel, leaving me with my heartbeat running wild and a smile I can’t shake.