Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
Hayden
For a guy who just dodged a bullet, the absence of a smug smile is suspect. Then, like a curtain falling shut, the cold indifference returns to his eyes. “I’m honored, Frosty. It almost sounds like you think I know what I’m doing.”
My chest heaves as I try to calm my breathing.
I can’t explain it, but I get the sense Ryder’s forcing himself to be an ass, and until I know why that is, I can’t succumb to his attempts to bait me into getting angry.
But I can’t coddle him either. He’ll see right through that.
“I think you’re talented enough to help Max.
The question is whether you can get out of your head long enough to do it. ”
His already stoic face pales, and I’m ashamed to admit I find it hauntingly beautiful.
“Careful, Frosty. You have no idea what’s in my head.”
I recognize his attempt to backpedal from the progress he seemed to make over the last few days and counter it with my own observation.
“No, but I know whatever’s weighing you down isn’t there when you’re on the mountain, yet you do everything possible to avoid the one thing that seems to bring you any kind of happiness. ”
Ryder takes a menacing step closer and snarls, “Maybe I don’t deserve happiness.”
His dark tone has me stepping back, though that extra foot allows me to see the pain under his ominous expression. "Is that why you seem determined to sabotage every chance you have to find it?”
He takes another step forward. “It’s not sabotage, it's penance. And that’s not supposed to make me happy.”
“Penance can lead to happiness.” My back hits the wall as I try to retreat, though not out of fear of him so much as fear that he’ll hear the heavy thumping of my heart if he gets close enough.
“Not for me.” Another step and he closes the distance between us, setting our faces mere inches apart.
I blink my eyes, trying to reconcile his words. Everyone deserves happiness. Even guys who act like jerks to mask their pain. If only I knew the reason for his demons, maybe…
“Don’t.” He punctuates the warning with a curt shake of his head.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking you can fix me.”
“What…?”
“Look around.” He jerks his head toward the lobby area behind him. “This whole place, everything you do, is to help broken people get better. I’m not like them. I can’t be fixed.”
“Who says they need to be fixed? They’re not broken. They’re overcoming an obstacle and will come out the other side stronger because of it. You could, too.”
Ryder’s eyes snap to mine. In their murky brown depths, I see a mixture of hope and distrust warring for dominance. The intensity of his stare makes my belly flutter, but I hold his gaze, sensing he’s too fragile right now for me to do anything other than stand by my words.
When his expression starts to soften, I allow myself to exhale.
Licking my lips, only inches from his, I think for a moment he’s going to lean in.
To press his mouth against mine. Despite my earlier anger, I want him to.
I want him to silence the turmoil in his mind and indulge in something that might bring him some semblance of joy. Any feeling at all really.
With me.
As his eyes drift to my mouth, I hold my breath, waiting.
Hoping. Imagining what it will feel like when his lips press against mine.
Whether the hint of stubble on his face will be coarse enough to mask the softness of his lips, or if I’ll even notice that over my erratic heartbeat.
But instead of closing the distance he shakes his head firmly and steps back, ending the moment.
“It’s too late for me,” he growls, retrieving his bag from where I dropped it on the floor and stalking off toward the lockers.
Stunned and disappointed, I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans with a heavy exhale, willing my heartbeat to return to normal as I second guess my version of events.
Maybe he wasn’t looking at my mouth. Maybe he didn’t feel something pass between us.
I should be grateful he didn’t kiss me. Aside from the fact it’d be highly unprofessional, it could be interpreted as forgiveness, and that’s not the kind of message I want to send.
Ryder deserves empathy, but not a free pass, and I can’t place a priority on his well-being just because I’m attracted to him.
I need to think of the bigger picture, and in terms of being a reliable resource for our clients, Ryder’s a wild card.
Still, as he pointed out, I’m naturally inclined to help people overcome their obstacles, and he’s clearly got a big one holding him back. I want to support him in moving past it, and I’m not convinced it’s too late for him.
Whether he wants to admit it or not, Ryder’s a different person on the slopes.
Almost like he’s living in the present instead of the past. I’m sure losing his brother has something to do with that, and I won’t pretend to know what it’s like to lose a sibling, but I know firsthand living in the present is crucial to moving past whatever grief he’s feeling.
In that regard, this really is the best place for him.
Here, he'll be able to see other people overcoming the hand they’ve been dealt and learning to reclaim some of what they lost. It’s not a cure, but it’s the first step.
I think Carter anticipated that, which is why he pushed so hard to get Ryder on the mountain. And after witnessing him ride myself, I have to agree. Time on the slope might be the key for Ryder to quiet the demons in his head. To remind him that he has just as much right to happiness as anyone.
Happiness. I had both Ryder’s and Max’s in mind when I didn’t stop Ryder from heading to the lockers just now, but safety is what should’ve been my priority. Apparently, all it takes is for a hot guy to look at me with sorrowful eyes and my backbone vanishes. What am I doing?
I never bend the rules, yet something about Ryder compels me to do it.
Is it because he’s so good looking? So tortured?
Or maybe it’s that I feel like I’m actually getting through to him?
And behind the wall he’s built, there’s a genuinely good guy.
One I’d like, if he’d allow him to come out of hiding.
It’s honestly hard to tell. I’ve made a career out of helping people, so I want to believe that’s all I’m doing now.
Then I think about how my heartbeat accelerated when his face was inches from mine, his full lips looking so soft to the touch, and I wonder if my libido isn’t trying to take control.
I’d recuse myself from managing him, except I don’t think Carter would do much better, since it was his idea to get Ryder back on the mountain in the first place.
Plus, recusing yourself isn’t really a thing in this business, so the final decision is going to come down to me. I only hope I haven’t screwed it up.
***
“Knock, knock.” Beck from the restaurant pops his head through the doorway as he knocks on the frame. “I wanted to drop these off for you.”
“What are they?” I hold out my hand to accept the stack of papers he’s offering.
“Flyers for the holiday parade.” He plops into the chair in front of my desk. “I figured you could set them on the rental counter or maybe hang some in by the lockers so the guests can hear about it.”
“You work at the restaurant and do the parade?” And here I thought I had a full plate.
“Oh no.” He shakes his head with wide eyes. “The historical society does the holiday stuff. My moms in it and she asked me to pass out the flyers since I work a few shifts up here. Not today, but it’s easier to say yes than explain my schedule to her.”
“We have a historical society?”
Beck chews on his lip. “More like a group of ladies who have taken over a corner of the bookstore to display books and pictures and stuff from over the years. But they keep all the traditions like the parade going. All the parades.”
“There’s more than one?”
“We have lots of parades. And dress up events.”
“I didn’t expect this town to be so fancy.” I thought I mumbled that to myself until Beck answers.
“Oh, not dress up, dress up. More like costumes. I mean, the Black and White Ball is fancy, but most everything else is like Halloween dress up." He chews on his lip again. “I suppose you could dress up for the parade. I usually go for hats and mittens since it’s cold, but I’ve seen people in reindeer onesies, and one year Ally dressed as Cindy Lou Hoo from the Grinch. Now that I think about it, I bet that wig she had on was probably warmer than my hat. The Santa and Mrs. Claus costumes are likely the warmest, but those are already taken.”
“They’re taken?” I cock my head to the side.
“Yeah. Nona’s husband—have you met Nona?
She runs the convenience store on Main Street.
Don’t shop there—it’s more expensive than the actual grocery—but she’s a sweet lady and her store is good in a pinch.
Her husband looks like Santa year-round, but on Christmas Eve he plays the part, and she plays Mrs. Claus.
Everyone knows it’s them, even the little kids, but it's still fun, you know?”
“Sure. Yeah.” I bob my head obediently.
“The parades are the best, especially the Christmas one. The whole town lines the street and we sing carols. The floats, which are really just cars decorated with bows and stuff, play music and lead us in the song. Do you sing?”
“Not well.”
“Me either. But no one can tell if you’re just mouthing the words. Especially during Silent Night. There are some rough notes in that one that I cannot hit, but no one will ever know.”
I must look as speechless as I feel because Beck catches my expression and bursts out laughing. “There’s a lot of character in this town. You’ll get used to it. Speaking of characters, how's the one you’ve got working for you?”
“Uh…”
“Ryder.” He sits up in his chair, suddenly serious. “I meant Ryder. How is he?”
I open my mouth to reply—shut it—open it again—but no words come out. Is he asking about him, or him and me? Is there a him and me, or am I reading into things?
“I’m not trying to pry,” Beck assures me. “It’s just that, things have been rough for him lately, and most of us haven’t seen that much of him since his brother…” he trails off, assuming I can fill in the blank
“How long ago was that?”
“Six months or so.”
Wow. No wonder Ryder is so tortured. His loss is incredibly fresh, and it makes perfect sense he wouldn’t be ready to do all the peopling he’s having to do at the adaptive center.
Of course, that’s his own fault for doing something that justifies community service as recompense, but still.
The surly attitude seems a tiny bit more justified now.
“Anyhow, rumor has it he’s riding again.” Beck snaps me out of my internal rambling. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“Carter seems to think so.” I play dumb.
It’s not that I don’t like Beck or don’t think he’s genuinely concerned about Ryder, I’m just not sure it’s my place to say anything.
And I know without a doubt any progress I’ve made with Ryder will fly out the window if he thinks I’ve been talking about his mental state with others, no matter whether my intent is for his benefit or not.
Hell, he doesn’t even like that I’ve talked to Carter about him, which is kind of hard to avoid since the guy is my boss.
In the end, I don’t think he holds that against me, but talking about what’s good for him with anyone else is a definite no go.
Fortunately, Beck doesn’t press for details. “Cool. So, have you got your suit for the ball?”
“Oh, um. I’m still not sure…”
“Don’t say you aren’t going. You have to go.
Please.” He rests his elbows on my desk and clasps his hands like he’s in prayer.
“I’m always the single one, and I really don’t want to be this year, especially when the ball drops and people start kissing.
If you’re with me, we can do a shot instead of a kiss or something. Please, say you’ll come.”
It’s not that I’m antisocial or opposed to getting dressed up, it’s that the guys mentioned something about a donation in Ryder’s brother’s name, which I assume means he’ll be there.
Yesterday, that wouldn’t have been a factor.
Today, after this morning… Wait, what am I doing?
It’s a small town—I can’t exactly avoid the guy.
And it’s not like we’ll have any weird almost confessions—or kisses—in a room full of people.
Not if I’m doing a shot at midnight, anyway. What the hell.
“Sure. I’ll go.”
Beck jumps up and rounds the desk, throwing his arms around my neck. “Yes!”
For the first time all day, a genuine smile lands on my face, and I realize I’m actually sort of excited I won’t be watching the ball drop alone on my couch.