Chapter 5
RYDER
I twist the knob on the back door of our townhouse, bracing myself for what’s waiting inside. I have no doubt my sisters have been alerted and are poised to talk through every inferior detail of this assignment.
Nothing genetic ties us together, but sometimes bonds are formed through experiences.
I step into the kitchen, and Jamie stands at the counter, shaping pizza dough. Her long, red, curly hair is tied back in a loose ponytail, her petite frame hunching over as she kneads and flips.
“Don’t you ever get sick of having your hands in flour?” I ask, kicking the door closed.
Jamie runs a coffee shop and is up all hours baking for the morning crowd. When nighttime is haunting, it’s not a bad gig.
“I wouldn’t be tonight, except I heard it was required.” She pushes her fingers around the edges of the dough, creating a perfect circle. “Jos will be here any minute with the toppings and dessert.”
I hang my backpack on a hook behind the door and sit to unlace my boots. Four of us share this townhouse, and thanks to Tracker's stringent military standards, our open living space is kept tidy.
Our place isn’t large, but the pale blue walls, white trim, and tan furniture make it feel more spacious than it is, thanks to Lyla and Vanessa’s astute eye for decorating.
The two bedrooms on the first floor belong to Jamie and me.
The two upstairs belong to Lyla and Van since they travel often and are only here part-time.
I kick off my boots, flipping them toward the door as it opens. Jos steps in, toting two grocery sacks.
“I heard you rounded up the troops.” I give her the stink eye.
Out of the five of us, Jos and I look the most alike, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She’s the youngest, the baby, but we’re careful never to treat her that way. She might only be nineteen, but she’s a badass of the best kind.
Her mouth creeps into a sassy smirk. “Van’s picking up Lyla from the airport. They’ll be here any minute.”
I stand to help her unload the bags.
“She maydayed us,” Jamie says, reaching for the onion and peppers.
I glare at Jos, and her grin only spreads wider. “Seriously?”
It’s our code, only to be used when we’re to drop everything and come running.
She raises and lowers one shoulder. “Ry, you’re moving in with a man. If there was ever a time for a mayday, this is it.”
My head sags to the side in an attempt to preserve patience and energy.
I wad up the plastic sack in my fists, wishing I could physically suffocate my unwelcome nerves along with it.
I loathe anxiety and fear with every fiber of my being, and right now, I’d like to hunt it, attack it, and kick its lying ass. But first, this with my girls.
“This is an assignment. It’ll be fine. He’s just a football player with a stalker.”
That’s all this is, and I know how to protect him.
“Ha. Only the most gorgeous one,” Jos mumbles, rinsing the peppers, and I catch Jamie rolling her lips to keep from smiling.
“Oh, for real,” I groan.
Although she’s not wrong. Every female hormone in my body may have been ripped out, gutted, and left to die a slow, excruciatingly painful death, but I’m not blind.
Will I ever admit Cole Matthews is beautiful? Ha. Never. Does it matter? Nope, not in the least. He’s a man, and I’m a woman sent to save his overly attractive behind. That’s it.
I rub my temples as the door swings open again. Lyla enters with her carry-on, looking like an ad for expensive loungewear. Her makeup is flawless against her beautiful skin, and her long, dark, almost-black hair is pulled into a sleek ponytail.
Vanessa slides in behind her, slipping off her heels as she closes the door.
Her brown hair falls over her shoulders, and the ruthless security genius plops into a chair at the table.
Her light, meticulous makeup and bright red lips make her green eyes pop.
She’s brilliant, confident, and the one you want on your side of the conference room.
Van rests her arms on the table. “All right, where’s the body, and what’s our story?”
I laugh. Of course she’d approach this as if we had something to hide.
“She’s ditching us to move in with Cole Matthews.” Jos points at me. The shit-eating grin on her cute little face ruins all seriousness.
Lyla gasps. “The quarterback? What the hell? When did this happen?”
I didn’t even consider that she might know him. I should have called her from the bathroom and gotten the lowdown while Tracker was signing me over.
“Wait, what?” Van crosses her legs, leaning back and getting comfortable now that she knows we don’t need to cover our asses. “You’re moving in with a man?” Her tone is full of skepticism.
“Yep! But not just any man. Cole Matthews.” Jos repeats his name like he’s some kind of heartthrob.
Shit. He probably is.
I hold up my hand, my gaze stabbing Jos, the little instigator, and shove my nerves way down deep where they belong.
“This is an assignment, and what is discussed in this kitchen stays in this kitchen. Got it.” I eye each one of them.
Lyla pulls the cork from a wine bottle, unaffected by confidentiality requirements.
“I think I met him once at an event. Vanity Fair, maybe?” Her perfectly sculpted, dark brown brows scrunch together.
“People always say how nice he is.” She shrugs like that tidbit is helpful.
“Women knock each other out, trying to get his attention. It’s pretty fun to watch, actually. ”
Fantastic. Track will be on my shit list until the end of time. Final training, my ass.
I release a slow, inconspicuous exhale.
“Why are you moving in with him?” Van’s tone is tight, still stuck on the me living with him part.
I appreciate her wariness.
I stand to help Jamie put the toppings on the pizzas and keep busy while I explain the details of the meeting this morning.
“They came to us. It’s clearly a special case with unique circumstances, and he’s paying.
” I pause, taking a second to think it all through again.
“It’s the best way to get inside and really see what’s going on.
If you’re trading people on and off the clock, it’s difficult to get the whole picture. ”
“Everyone will think you’re his girlfriend or at least that you’re hanging out.” Lyla takes a sip of her wine.
I roll my eyes. The idea of me looking or acting anything like his girlfriend is a big, fat joke.
Wait.
Matthews said something about this. He alluded to the same damn thing. My body tenses. It goes rigid and cold. I might be dead.
“Um. . .what does that mean exactly?” I shove it out, not wanting an answer.
All four pairs of eyes are locked on me. No one moves. My ears fill with pressure and the sound of my own heartbeat. As I’m cresting the hill of panic, Lyla’s calm voice breaks through.
“It doesn’t matter what people think and say. They’ll say anything and everything.”
Ok. Just breathe.
She’s right. I’ve seen this firsthand with her. Rarely anything posted about her has merit, and she keeps marching like nothing was said at all. I can do that.
“Just talk to him about it. Come up with a plan and see what he thinks. Maybe you can. . .blend into the background,” Van says, lifting her glass like this is no big deal.
She pauses before taking a sip. “Although it might help if people think you’re dating him.
If they know he’s got protection, he’s less vulnerable.
You know how cowards work. They slink back and try to hide.
If you’re his girlfriend, they’ll keep gunning for him. ”
I don’t want to hear what she just said.
Jamie sets a piping hot pizza on the table and sits in the chair beside me. I’m no longer hungry. I pick at my piece while they break down my new gig.
“What if it’s not that bad?” Jamie says, wiping her fingers on a napkin. “Have you given yourself a break to think that maybe Cole might be a nice guy and you could be. . .friends?”
I twist to look at her, knowing honesty is the only option. “No.”
Her tone softens. “I want all of us to one day have the chance to wonder and then know what it might be like to think of a man. . .that way.”
“James, this isn’t—”
She holds up her hand. “I know, but. . .you doing this, living with him, pretending or whatever it will be, gives me hope that someday I might be able to feel what something even remotely similar to not pretending might be like.”
An ache so raw and so deep fills every hollow space within me where, at one time, I would have felt that longing, too.
I stare, watching her be brave.
She smiles. “I know you don’t think it’s possible, but I want it for you.”
My eyes run over their faces, so full of hope. Sometimes, I think we just might need someone sitting in our corner, hoping for all of the things we’re too afraid to ever wish for ourselves.
“We’ll be here,” Jos says through a mouthful. “Day, night, hell, or high water.”
Van nods. “We love you, Ry.”
I fill my cheeks with air and blow it out, letting the blur in my eyes recede. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Even when I don’t.”
I meet each of their glossy eyes, set with determination, providing strength and belief that I just might survive this job.
Lyla raises her wine glass but stops. “I just hope he likes Bruno.”
My head falls back toward the ceiling, feeling my lungs expand, and then I whip my crumpled napkin at her. “I don’t give a flying shit if he doesn’t like Bruno. He’s coming with me.”
I watch them laugh, needing this to come with me, too.