3. Chapter Three
3
Ryker
When I go out of my room, yesterday will only be a dream – a horrible, unfortunate, and weird dream. I run a towel through my wet hair, drops of water plopping onto the bathroom sink as I do, then saunter into my room to slip on a pair of basketball shorts before heading down the hall and into the kitchen.
The curly red hair that I remember vividly from my dream is standing in front of the stove, shaking her hips, and humming to a tune that only she can hear. Clearly, it wasn’t a dream – which means this is going to be my life for a little while, and I should probably suck it up. I clear my throat, hoping that she will be able to hear me, but she only dances more provocatively, and it has my cock jumping at attention.
There’s no denying the soft curves of her body and the perfect peach shape of her ass. I was too angry that she was here in the first place to pay any attention to her, aside from her red hair, so this morning is all about studying her.
While she jumps to the music blaring into her headphones, I slide onto an empty stool at the kitchen island and watch her in amusement. When she turns around to place what she’s making onto a large plate, she finally notices I’m here and jumps back with wide eyes.
She rips the headphones from her ears, placing them carefully in their case, and crosses her arms with an eyebrow arched. “Is it necessary to sneak up on people?”
I smirk and lean back in my seat, watching as her eyes trail from my face and down the length of my bare chest – if I had gathered my reality sooner, I would’ve put a shirt on. “First of all, I tried getting your attention. Second, I’m not going to ruin your fun. You were clearly enjoying yourself, and it wasn’t a bad sight to see either.”
Wren rolls her eyes and spins back toward the stove, then glances over her shoulder with her gaze focused on the plate of food sitting in front of me. “There’s breakfast. Eat up before we get started on the day.”
“Get started?”
“Thought we could get to know each other better, become better acquainted, and hopefully gain the other’s trust.”
She studies me and cocks her head to the side. “Did you sleep okay? You look exhausted.”
Her question has me clamming up and gripping the fork laying in front of me. I’ve done a good job of hiding my lack of sleep, so much that no one else has ever questioned it before, but one look from her and she’s got it figured out.
I’m not about to admit that I wake up every other night, in the middle of the night, with cold sweats from my nightmares.
When I don’t answer her, having no intention of opening up to the stranger standing in front of me, she lowers the heat level on the stove before spinning around to face me.
“We’ve gotta start somewhere, Ryker. I came here to help you and don’t intend to turn away from that commitment.”
“Well, good luck with that,” I mumble.
“What do you enjoy besides the band?”
Again, I sit in silence, staring into her bright blue eyes that rival the midday sky without uttering a single word, and she narrows her eyes at me. “Come on, Rockstar. You’ve got to have something you enjoy.”
“Sex,” I say with a smirk.
Instead of making her uncomfortable, Wren nods in understanding and cocks her head to the side. “How often would you say you have sex?”
I quirk a brow and lean forward. “There a reason you want to know?”
She pushes away from the stove, not before checking on the food, and bends into the island with a smile on her face. “I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work. Sex is natural, it doesn’t scare me. But, it’s telling that you won’t answer my question.”
“What does that mean?”
Wren shrugs with her back to me as she pushes the bacon back and forth in a skillet. “It means you hold things in too much. When was the last time you had a conversation with someone about things going on in your life?”
Before I can answer, she looks over her shoulder at me. “And I mean deeply personal situations that make you want to punch something in response.”
I chuckle deeply and shake my head. “You’ve got it all wrong, but I guess you get points for trying.”
“Right,” she mumbles. I can tell she’s not convinced with my answer, but she takes a deep breath and adds, “Anyway, back to the question. How often would you say you have sex?”
“Seriously? I prefer to eat my breakfast in silence.”
She sighs heavily. “Does my question make you uncomfortable? If so, I’m more than okay with changing the subject and getting off the topic. I’m here to make sure you are comfortable and in a safe environment.”
While she places more food on the large plate in front of me and then turns the burners off, I think long and hard about what she’s asking.
How often?
“Three to four times a week, sometimes once a day,” I mumble.
“Is it something you need to make you feel whole?” Wren asks.
I shrug and reach forward, putting food onto a smaller plate while she cleans her mess up around the stove. “I guess, yeah.”
“And why do you think that is? Could it be something that helps tame that anger?”
Her question has my spine straightening and I scowl at the food sitting in front of me because she’s getting somewhere when I didn’t want her to. Most of the time, when I have a one-night stand, it’s when I’m irritated or on the verge of a breakdown.
“Sure,” I mumble over the large bite in my mouth.
“I want you to write in a journal while I’m here,” she says, then walks into an adjoining room and comes back with a notebook in her hand. “Write all your feelings down, especially since you don’t have that sexual outlet you crave. Each week, during breakfast, we’ll go over what you’ve written and find better ways for you to cope.”
“Can’t you just email my manager and say I don’t need your services?”
“Not happening,” she says with a bright smile, then she claps once and slides onto the stool next to mine. “Now that we’ve got something important out of the way, what do you really love to do outside of the band?”
There’s an electric charge that vibrates between the two of us and I look down, noting our close proximity, then glance back up at her with an eyebrow raised. “Ever hear of personal space?”
Her cheeks flush a beautiful shade of pink, and she scoots a few inches away, then clears her throat. “I apologize for that. Are you going to answer the question?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “I’ve already said I prefer to eat breakfast in silence, but it looks like I’m not getting that this morning.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Wren states with a frown. “We’ll table the conversation for another time, and I’ll let you enjoy your breakfast.”
“Great,” I mutter.
This is exactly what I wanted, yet I hate that she’s gone quiet now.
My phone vibrates incessantly on the island in front of me, and I lift the device with a small smile. “Guess my breakfast is gonna have to wait.”
Before she can manage to get me to ignore the call, I disappear around the corner and head into my home office with the phone still vibrating in my hand. “I really don’t want to hear from you right now.”
Brent sighs heavily into the line. “You know we only want the best for you, man. That’s all this is.”
“Sure,” I mumble. “How’s the replacement?”
“Let’s not worry about that right now,” Brent says, which automatically makes me think that the replacement is better than I am. Diverting the conversation is Brent’s way of not telling me.
“How is everything going with the wellness coach?”
“Great, we’re the best of friends.”
He groans. “She’s only there to help, Ryker. The sooner you let her do what Mack sent her there for, the quicker she’ll be gone.”
He’s got a point there.
“She’s more like a distraction than help.”
“Oh God, bro,” Brent grumbles through the line. “Please do not tell me you tried anything on her.”
I scoff. “Not particularly. She pried into my life this morning, and I brought up sex.”
“Jesus,” he mutters, then lets out a heavy sigh, and I can imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose as he does it. “You can’t just offer sex to your therapist, dude!”
“I didn’t offer her sex, I’m not that stupid.” What would her red curls look like wrapped around my wrist, though, as she sank her mouth over my hard length?
I shake my head and frown. “She asked what I enjoyed besides the band, and I told her sex.”
“Stop stalling and let her do her job, man. We miss you out here.”
I’d love to believe the last statement, but I can’t shake the feeling that he’s only saying that because he thinks it’s what I want to hear. My anger boils slightly, and I fidget in place.
“Yeah, look, I’ve got to go. Got some things to work on this morning.”
We say our goodbyes, and as soon as he hangs up the phone, my anger reaches its peak. I throw my fist into the wall in front of me. The drywall cracks, forming a large hole, and I shake my hand from the impact.
When I get back into the kitchen, Wren is still sitting at the island with an empty plate in front of her. She looks up at me with a frown. “Everything okay?”
“Do you think you could mind your business?”
“Maybe it would help if you got out of your head,” she says softly. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Black.”
“Interesting.” She scribbles something in a notebook that wasn’t there before, and I raise a brow at her when she looks back up at me. “What? I’m taking notes.”
“You wanna take notes?” I rasp, leaning closer to her. “Maybe take note of this.” She stares at me with wide eyes, and her mouth parted open in surprise, barely blinking as I continue separating the distance between us.
When I get close enough that her breasts brush against my chest, I glare at her. “I don’t like people in my business, and that includes you. When I say I’d like to eat in peace, that’s exactly what I mean.”
She swallows thickly, the flush on her cheeks crawling down the length of her neck, and I hate how much I want to lean down and press my lips against the pink hue. As if my body has a mind of its own, my head drops lower, the idea of a kiss too tempting to pass up.
Just as I go to press my lips against hers, Wren is pushing at my chest and jumping away from me with a frown. “What are you doing?”
She shakes her head and puts much needed distance between the two of us. “I’m your wellness coach, you can’t do things like that.”
When she disappears down the hall, I grab my now cold food and march through the long hallway to my room. I’d rather eat on my bed alone than be with her for another second, especially when she’s got my cock standing up at attention.
Why did I try to kiss her?
Considering I just got done telling Brent that I haven’t made a move on her, and implied that I wouldn’t, talking to him about this wouldn’t be in my best interest.
I’ve just got to keep my distance from her.
Except, she’s supposed to be working closely with me and that means she’ll always be around.
Sounds like this is going to be a piece of cake – cue the sarcasm.