Chapter Four
Molly found herself restless and sexually frustrated Sunday night. Knowing Ryker was in the next room, probably in the bare minimum of clothes—or no clothes at all—was pure torture.
He just didn’t feel the same way about her that she did him.
That was clear, now.
He saw her as a friend. As a duty. As a vow he made to her dead husband.
But not as anything romantic.
She knew he was a playboy and could have his pick of women—and he picked many. So why would he want her? She was a boring and frumpy single mom. There was a reason she only attracted weirdos like Adrian. She was damaged goods. And as much as Ryker was an amazing friend, he probably saw her as damaged goods, too, and not as the thirty-something woman in her sexual prime with a vagina growing cobwebs.
Monday morning, after so much tossing and turning, she hauled herself out of bed to the smell of French toast and bacon.
Besides adding new fodder to her fantasies, torturing her heart, and fixing anything broken around her house, Ryker’s skills in the kitchen—particularly breakfast—were just another reason she looked forward to seeing him. Only once in all the years he’d been coming to visit did she see him without a shirt on—and that brief moment left her mouth dry and her panties soaked. He’d probably been for a run already, done a bunch of pushups and crunches, as well as chin-ups in her garage—since he installed a chin-up bar the last time he was there, and was ready to start the day with a breakfast fit for an entire wrestling team.
When it was just her and Sasha, they enjoyed muesli in the morning over their coffee. But Ryker liked to start the day properly, with lots of protein and carbs.
“The oven is really the only way to cook bacon,” she heard him say as she made her way down the hall to the kitchen with her wild bedhead topknot, silky black pajama shorts, and hot pink tank top. “No splatter and then you just crumple up the parchment paper covered in grease and toss it into the compost.”
“Good morning,” Molly yawned, scuffing her slipper-covered feet over to the coffeemaker. Sasha was sitting at the island, still in her pajamas and cradling the one cup of coffee Molly allowed her a day.
“’Morning,” Ryker said, flipping the French toast on the griddle. “I hope you’re hungry.”
Molly poured herself a big mug of java and added cream. She’d need the caffeine if she was going to get through the day staring into people’s mouths. “Just one piece of toast for me, please.”
“I made you lunch,” he said, nodding at a brown paper bag on the counter. “Turkey and Swiss on sourdough, right?”
She smiled and nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”
His grin caused her insides to liquify.
“Half-pint showed me the list of things you need done around here, so we’re going to head to the hardware store once she’s dressed.”
Sasha rolled her eyes. “It’s my summer break, you know. I should be sleeping in.”
“Not on my watch, kiddo. You’re up by oh-eight-hundred every day to help me.”
Sasha glanced at her phone. “It’s oh-seven-hundred. Does that mean I can go back to bed for an hour?”
“Not today.” He flipped a few slices of French toast out onto a plate. “Too much to do.”
Sasha reached for a slice of bacon off the plate and gnawed on it. “I like it better when you’re less bossy.”
“I’m never less bossy. You were just younger and therefore couldn’t help me as much. Now, you’re fourteen, as tall as a giraffe and with a dancer’s muscles. I’m putting you to work.”
Sasha glanced at Molly with a beseeching look. “Help,” she mouthed.
Molly snorted. “When I’m gone, Ryker’s in charge.”
Sasha’s pout was mostly fake. Then she perked up, cocked her head to the side and squinted. “You have giant bags under your eyes. Did you sleep?”
Molly cleared her throat and glanced down at the marble island top, cradling her mug in her hands. “I uh … too much sangria. Got a bit spinny.” She slid onto the barstool just as Ryker brought down plates for all of them from the cupboard.
“Eat up, ladies.”
As always, breakfast was delicious. Ryker knew just how much vanilla and cardamom to add to his egg mixture to bring the French toast to life. Staring at the bottom of her empty coffee mug, because she had a hard time not staring at Ryker’s handsome … everything , she finished chewing the last bite of bacon, then slid off the stool. “I need to go get dressed.”
“Can I go hang out at Paula’s after dance practice?” Sasha asked, staring at her phone, then lifting her gaze to Molly. “She says her mom will pick us up and can even bring me home.”
“What time is practice?” Ryker asked.
“Four until seven,” Sasha replied before Molly could.
“I’ll take you to practice,” he said.
“Let me text Rita and verify,” Molly said, pulling her phone from her shorts pocket. She shot off a quick message to Paula’s mom, Rita, who replied almost instantly to confirm the girls’ plans. “Sounds fine to me.”
“If for whatever reason Paula’s mom can’t drive you home, I can come get you,” Ryker said.
Sasha grabbed the last piece of bacon off the tray. “Maybe I should see about sleeping over at Paula’s so I can sleep in tomorrow.”
“Not happening,” Ryker said with way too much of a fatherly tone that caused both Molly and Sasha to look at him funny.
He must have realized he was overstepping a bit and cleared his throat. “What I mean is that until things with Adrian settle down, I think it’s best you’re under the same roof as your mom—and me—at night. Okay?”
Sasha nodded, but then she couldn’t stop herself from teasing him. As was the nature of their relationship. “Jeez, over-protective much? You going to bubble wrap me before we go to the hardware store, too?”
“Don’t tempt me, kiddo.” He locked eyes with Molly a moment later and winked, which only made her panties flood and those stupid butterflies to wake up from their slumber and go crazy.
She needed a cold shower—and not just to wake her up.
Molly finished work at the dental office at five and Ryker was there to pick her up, even though that meant he followed her home in his rental truck, since she drove herself. But he never let even one vehicle come between them. A police cruiser was parked outside her house like it had been when she left that morning, and she waved at Officer Linden as she pulled into her garage.
It was book club night and six women were coming over for wine, conversation and possibly a brief discussion about the book they all just read. She always hosted since her house was typically the quietest. She just had the one child, no spouse and only one neighbor.
Thankfully, everyone brought something to share, and they put the variety of appetizers on the island while they all sat in the living room with their wine and books.
Ryker was already in the house when she entered from the garage. The smell of fresh paint met her before anything else.
“You painted?” She went to the liquor store next door to her dental office over her lunch break and picked up four bottles of wine, so she plunked them on the counter in the kitchen as her eyes scanned the open concept kitchen-dining-living space for new color.
“Just the trim,” he said, joining her in the kitchen as she put the rosé and pinot gris in the fridge. “Also fixed that squeaky and sticky closet door in Sash’s room, cleaned the gutters, trimmed the hedge, mowed the lawn and put some sealant on those cracks in your driveway.”
“Wow. Is Sasha even talking to you if you made her do all that?”
“She loves me. That kid’ll never give me the silent treatment. Besides, I made it fun.”
“She’s a fourteen-year-old girl. She does not find manual labor fun . She whines when I ask her to take out the garbage.”
“You’re just using the wrong approach.” He opened up the fridge and pulled out the container with the leftover pizza. “How was your day?”
“Long. My neck hurts from hunching over to clean teeth for hours.”
“Here. Turn around.” He touched her shoulder gently so she would spin around and not face him. He set his pizza slice down on the island, brushed her hair over her shoulder, then two magical thumbs began to work the twin knots right at the base of her neck. Her head lolled forward, and she closed her eyes, melting into the pressure, into the touch of his skin on hers.
Did the man have any flaws?
He could cook, he could fix, he could fight, he could massage. Did he have a sixth toe she didn’t know about or something? A lisp as a child, maybe?
The groan bubbled up from the depths of her chest before she could stop it. But it woke her up enough that she stepped away and shook herself free of him. “Thank you for that.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you. But um … but I am fine. I am A-Okay. All healed. All better. No neck problems here.”
He was looking at her like she was a crazy person. “Moll—”
“Nope. All good. I need to change and get ready for tonight. You go … do whatever it is you need to do. Okay. See ya later.” Then, like an idiot, she skirted around him and headed down the hall to her room, closing the door way too abruptly and cringing when it rattled the whole house.
Her head fell back against the door and she slammed her palm into her forehead.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
How could she be so stupid?
Easy. Ryker always made her lose her mind when he touched her. Because his touch was platonic and never in the place on her body that she wanted it most.
“What’s with the rental truck?” asked Susannah as she stepped over the threshold and into Molly’s house later that night, carrying a plate of deviled eggs.
“A family friend is visiting for a few days to help with some projects around the house,” Molly said. It wasn’t a total lie, so her belly didn’t do its normal nauseating flip whenever she was forced to lie. She’d always been a terrible liar, ever since she was a child. More often than not, lying made her vomit. But she figured this wasn’t a lie, it was simply an omission of all the facts. Ryker was, in fact, a family friend and he was visiting and while he was here, he would help with projects around the house. His initial reason for flying here, so spur of the moment, was nobody’s business.
Susannah merely nodded and set her plate down on the table while helping herself to some wine.
Evelyn and Sienna always carpooled and came together. Rosalie walked since she lived just a few blocks away, and Olivia and Kate, Moms from Sasha’s soccer team, usually arrived late because they had kids, dinner and sports to deal with beforehand.
But within fifteen minutes they were all seated in Molly’s living room with their wine, appetizers and books.
After she changed out of her scrubs and had a shower, Molly came out to find Ryker gone. His truck was still in the driveway, but he’d made himself scarce and was hiding outside.
Her face still heated to an uncomfortable temperature at the thought of their awkward interaction in the kitchen. Correction, her awkward reaction to him touching her.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
“So, I think the heroine forgave the hero too easily,” Sienna said, nibbing on a nacho chip she’d dipped into the sour cream on her plate. “That grovel scene was like three sentences. I want it to be pages. I want him to give up something for her, and Damien didn’t. His character arc fell flat for me. Not enough growth.”
Molly nodded as she agreed with Sienna. She and Sienna had the same taste in books. The spicier, the better.
“See, I found the heroine grating,” Olivia replied. “Sure, she forgave him quickly, but she couldn’t make up her mind about what—or who, she wanted. And was it just me, or did anybody else get, like, a serial slut vibe from her?”
Eyes around the living room went wide.
“Serial slut vibe?” Molly asked. “First of all, serial slut sounds redundant. But also, that feels kind of shamey. I thought Annabel was unapologetically sexually liberal. Like Samantha from Sex and the City . She never cheated, and she didn’t do relationships until she was ready. She enjoyed sex and I don’t think there is anything wrong with that.”
Several heads bobbed around the room. Several, but not all. Not Olivia or Kate. Their eyes formed matching thin slits.
“Well, I don’t like the heroines in my books being whores,” Kate said haughtily. Olivia nodded and sipped her Pinot Grigio.
“We all know your favorite trope is the virgin trope, Kate,” Susannah said, an eye roll in her voice. “Let’s not forget that these characters are fictional people.”
Sienna nodded. “Annabel gave up a lot for Damien. She settled down, she moved from the city to the suburbs. She changed jobs. The woman literally went from being the managing partner at her law firm in New York, to running a family law practice in Westchester.” Sienna glanced at Molly for support. “Damien went no-contact with his overbearing parents. That was it. And it was really not much of a sacrifice since he’d basically done it already.”
“His parents had a reason to be concerned about Annabel. Her history with men in the city was no secret.” Olivia uncrossed and recrossed her legs while giving Molly some seriously questionable stink-eye.
The French door from the deck opened, and all eyes and bodies pivoted to watch the hunk of handsomeness that was Ryker McKnight walk across the threshold. “Good evening, ladies,” he said, flashing that famous Ryker smile.
Every single one of them sighed. Even the married women.
He had twigs and pine needles in his dark hair and a few dirt smudges on his cheeks, but that only made him sexier. Stopping at the island to grab a deviled egg and pop into his mouth whole, he kept his eyes on Molly.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your family friend ?” Susannah probed, nudging Molly.
Molly cleared her throat and smiled, avoiding not only Ryker’s penetrating stare but also the continued rage eyes that Kate and Olivia were shooting at her. “Ladies, this is Ryker McKnight. He was friends with Brendan, and has remained a constant … friend in our lives over the years. He comes and helps out whenever he has time.”
Ryker’s smile grew. “I had some time off and gave Moll a call and asked what needed to be done around the place. No big deal. Always love visiting and catching up.”
“Well, when you’re done here, you can come and trim my hedge,” Sienna purred, eye-fucking the bejesus out of Ryker.
Rosalie and Evelyn snorted, but also nodded.
Ryker merely chuckled, then focused back on Molly. “I’m gonna jump in the shower.”
All she could do was nod.
Then he disappeared down the hallway.
Nobody said a word until the bathroom door snicked shut and the shower started. Then all eyes were on her.
“Tell me you’re hitting that,” Susannah said. “Please.”
Molly shook her head. “He’s just a friend.”
“So, he’s gay?” Rosalie asked.
Sadness swept into her heart, and she swallowed. “No. He’s not. He’s just … he’s just a good friend.” She glanced down at her lap, where she’d shred her bookmark without even knowing it. “There were ten of them all together. A team. Then Brendan passed when Sasha was just a baby and all his friends took it really hard. They also vowed to always take care of us. And over thirteen years later, they still do. Ryker and his twin are the only two who aren’t married with families, though, and Decker—his brother—is a lot quieter and low-key. Ryker is always the first to volunteer to come. He’s also the one who checks in the most.”
“You’re telling me there are two of those ?” Rosalie asked, pointing down the hallway. “Two?”
Molly giggled and nodded. “Yeah.” But there was only one Ryker McKnight.
“Can we get back to the book, please?” Olivia asked with irritation in her tone.
“Is there something you’d like to discuss, Olivia?” Susannah asked. “You and Kate have both been rather hostile this evening.”
“We just weren’t fans of the book,” Kate said quickly.
“Then why are you so eager to get back to discussing it?” Evelyn countered.
“Because this is a book club,” Olivia pointed out. “It’s what we’re supposed to do.”
“No, it’s a group of women who agree on a specific book to read for a month, then get together, drink wine, eat food, bitch about life and the patriarchy and maybe talk ten minutes about the book.” Susannah rolled her gray eyes. “And up until now, you two have been fine with that. So that tells me something else is up.”
Olivia and Kate’s cheeks were as pink as Pepto Bismol.
“I didn’t mind the book,” Sienna said, breaking the tension. She was always the peacekeeper. “I mean, it wasn’t my favorite. But I finished it with a smile on my face. I do agree that Damien should have done more. He should have sacrificed more and his grovel scene was too short. But the happily ever after did make me swoon.”
“And those sex scenes …” Rosalie added while fanning herself. “Woo!”
Molly mouthed, “Thank you,” to Sienna and Rosalie. They offered her friendly smiles back.
All eyes were drawn down the hall when the doorknob for the bathroom jiggled.
Every single woman in that living room was hoping that Ryker would exit wearing nothing but a low-slung towel.
And even though Molly knew he’d be fully dressed, she still hoped.
Hope was all she had left.
Of course, she was right, and he emerged with damp hair, gray sweatpants (yum) and a tight black T-shirt.
Susannah said what they were all thinking. “Gray sweatpants are second best to naked or a towel.”
Rosalie, Sienna and Evelyn all said, “Amen.” At the exact same time.
Kate and Olivia shot daggers at Molly while Molly tried to shrink herself to the size of a sparrow in the corner of her couch.