4. Ryder
Chapter Four
RYDER
I wake before dawn, instantly aware of the curvy, warm body curled against me. At some point during the night, we've gravitated toward each other. My arm’s wrapped around Frankie's waist, her back pressed to my chest, her hair tickling my chin. For a moment, I allow myself to savor the feeling. The soft weight of her against me. The scent of her hair. The perfect way she fits in my arms.
Two years of keeping my distance, and now we’re here. My cock is rock hard against my zipper, straining to be set free. When her breathing changes, I carefully withdraw my arm and edge away, giving her space.
“Morning,” she says, turning to face me with sleep-tousled hair and a tentative smile.
She’s so beautiful it hits me right in the chest.
“Morning. Sorry if I…” I gesture vaguely at the small space between us.
“It's a small bed. And it was cold.”
I nod, grateful for the out even as part of me regrets taking it. “How did you sleep?”
“Better than expected. You?”
“Same.” I find myself staring longer than I should. She’s different in the soft morning light. More vulnerable, more real than the woman who serves me coffee every day. More beautiful, if that's even possible.
Risky trots over with his tail wagging. I scratch behind his ears, grateful for the distraction. “Storm's still going, but not as bad as yesterday.”
“Think we'll be able to leave today?” she asks, following my gaze to the window.
There’s an ache in my chest at the thought of leaving. Which is ridiculous. Of course she wants to get back. “Depends on the helicopter. I need to check the damage.”
I stretch as I stand, aware of her eyes on me before she quickly looks away, color rising in her cheeks. This strange new intimacy between us is maddening and exhilarating all at once.
We fall into a surprisingly comfortable routine, preparing breakfast from the emergency rations, moving around each other in the small cabin. I can’t help gazing at her; the way she tucks her hair behind her ear, the graceful efficiency of her movements, so similar to how she works in the diner.
Except here, in this isolated cabin, there's no counter between us. No customers waiting. No reason to maintain the careful distance I've kept for two years.
When breakfast’s finished, I stand. “I need to check the helicopter. See what we're dealing with.”
Risky comes with me, eager for some fresh air. The wind has died down, but the rain is still steady, soaking through my jacket within minutes.
The helicopter sits where we left it. I pop the maintenance panel and my heart sinks. The hydraulic system is completely shot; fluid leaking from multiple places, lines damaged beyond what I can repair with the basic tools in the emergency kit.
Even with perfect weather, there’s no way I’d get this bird off the ground.
The radio is our next best hope. I power it up, relieved when the screen flickers to life, battery charged enough from the small solar panel I'd set in what little sunlight filtered through the clouds.
“SAR Base, this is Ryder. Do you copy?” I adjust the frequency, trying to cut through the static.
After a moment, Nina's voice comes through, broken but audible. “Ryder? Thank god. Are you okay? Is Frankie with you?”
“We're both fine. Risky’s fine, too. Sheltering in the old ranger cabin on the east ridge. Helicopter's damaged though, we can't fly out.”
“Copy that.” Her voice fades in and out. “Logan says... road access... flooded until... storm passes…”
“What's the forecast?” I ask, straining to hear through the static.
“...clearing by tomorrow afternoon... ground team... first light after…”
I do the math in my head. Another day at least, maybe two before extraction. I'm surprised by the lack of disappointment I feel at the news.
“Copy that. We have supplies. Tell my brothers not to do anything stupid,” I add, knowing exactly how I'd react if one of them was stranded on a mountain.
Nina's laugh comes through despite the static. “Too late. Hunter already... to hike up... Logan stopped him. Stay safe.”
“Will do. Ryder out.”
When I return to the cabin, Frankie's expression tells me she's already guessed the news. “How bad?”
“Bad,” I admit, accepting the towel she hands me. “Hydraulics are screwed.”
“Can you fix it?”
“Not here. Not with what we have. And I’m not an engineer. My brother Hunter might be able to if he was here.” I run a hand through my wet hair, frustration escaping despite my efforts. “The radio's working though. I made contact with base.”
“So they're sending help?”
“Not yet. The storm's still too severe for air rescue, and the flooding has taken out the access roads. They're monitoring the weather, but…” I hesitate, watching her face carefully. “We might be here for another day or two.”
To my surprise, she doesn't seem upset. “Well, we have supplies. And shelter. We'll be okay.”
I study her, searching for signs of distress or forced optimism. “You're taking this remarkably well.”
She shrugs, the gesture casual but her eyes anything but. “Panicking won't change our situation. Besides... the company could be worse.”
Warmth unfurls in my chest. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She turns away, busying herself with hanging up my wet jacket. “At least you're talking to me now. And you’ve stopped calling me ma’am.”
Her words hit harder than she probably intends. “I've always wanted to talk to you. Just... couldn't find the words.”
She turns back to me, and the look on her face makes my heart thud against my chest. “And now?”
I manage a smile. “Now I don't have a choice. Nowhere to run.”
“Is that what you've been doing? Running?”
The smile fades from my lips. “In a way. It's what I know how to do.”
She moves closer, drawn by something in my voice perhaps. “Why?”
A familiar tightness builds in my chest; the pressure of memories I've kept buried. For a moment, the old instinct kicks in. I need to deflect, withdraw, maintain distance. But the honest curiosity in her eyes breaks something loose inside me.
“After a classified mission... after the crash…” My throat threatens to close up, but I force the words out. “I lost men. Good men. Because of a choice I made.”
Her small hand on my arm is light, gentle. “What happened?”
I shake my head, the memory vivid even after all this time. “Special operations. We were extracting a team under heavy fire. I chose a route that seemed safer, but we took a hit from ground fire. I got most of them out, but not all.” My voice drops to a near-whisper. “Not all.”
Understanding softens her eyes. “That's why you left the military.”
“Honorable discharge after the recovery. But yes. Coming back here, taking over as SAR pilot, it was supposed to be simpler. Safer. But every time I fly, I remember. And every time I…” The words stick in my throat.
“Every time you what?” she prompts gently.
“Every time I care about someone, I remember what it felt like to lose them.” The admission costs me; I feel exposed, raw. “So I keep my distance. I keep things light. No ties. It's easier.”
Her eyes search mine, the question unspoken but clear. “Is that why you barely speak to me? Because you care?”
I don't answer. Two years of carefully maintained distance are crumbling in the span of twenty-four hours.
“Ryder... I'm right here. Not going anywhere.” The warm peachy scent rising from her skin has my cock twitching.
“You can't promise that,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend. “No one can.”
“No, but I can promise that keeping your distance doesn't protect you. It just means you miss what's right here in front of you.”
There’s a shift in the air between us, a tension that's been building since I first spotted her on that ridge, since I first walked into her diner two years ago. My hand moves of its own accord, rising to her face. My fingers brush her cheek, before sliding into the silkiness of her hair. The softness of it against my calloused palm makes my breath catch.
“Frankie,” I whisper.
She answers by rising onto her toes and pressing her lips to mine.
For a heartbeat, I'm frozen, stunned. Then something breaks loose inside me and I'm kissing her back with two years' worth of pent-up longing. My arms encircle her, pulling her flush against me as I deepen the kiss. She responds with equal hunger, her fingers tangling in my hair, tracing the line of my jaw. My tongue explores her mouth, the soft lines of her body pressing against me.
I could drown in the way she tastes and die happy.
When we finally break apart, I'm breathing hard, my forehead resting against hers. “I've wanted to do that since the first time I saw you. Every single day for two years.”
“Why didn't you?”
A rueful smile tugs at my mouth. “I couldn't even order coffee without tripping over my own tongue. Let alone kiss you.”
“You don't need words for this,” she whispers, drawing me back to her.
The second kiss is slower, deeper, a thorough exploration rather than a desperate claiming. Her hands slide beneath my shirt, cool against my overheated skin, and I groan into her mouth. Every nerve in my body is on fire, hyper aware of her touch, of the small sounds she makes when I trace the line of her throat with my lips.
Risky whines and scratches at the door, reminding me we're not alone. I break the kiss with a reluctant sigh, pressing my forehead to hers.
She laughs, the sound light and breathless. “To be continued?”
The promise in her words sends heat pooling low in my belly. my cock hard against my zipper. “Definitely.”
I move to let Risky out, my body humming with awareness, skin still tingling where she touched me. Outside, the rain continues to fall, but the sky is lighter now, breaks in the clouds revealing patches of blue.
The storm is finally lifting. Soon we'll be heading back to Ember Heart, back to reality. Back to the diner counter between us, the daily routines, the watching eyes of a small town.
The idea makes me want to run away. This bubble we've created here is fragile, temporary.
Frankie’s crouched by the fire, adding another log. The firelight catches in her hair, turning her blonde waves into a halo of gold. She looks up, catching me watching her, and the smile she gives me is tentative, questioning.
What happens when we leave this mountain? Will she still look at me that way?