Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
The next morning, I wake to the scent of dark roast coffee and the savory aroma of hickory bacon.
It’s dark out, which means Noah must still be under the influence and trying to teach himself how to cook again. Perfect . I force myself to sit up, groggily attempting to blink awake and failing miserably. As if I didn’t already lose enough sleep from nightmares full of fiery fields and hooded monsters, now I have to go stop him from melting the stove— again .
Shrugging on a sweatshirt, I head into the hallway where I’m greeted by Dad’s soft laughter. My shoulders instantly relax with the knowledge that the house is no longer in peril from Noah’s drunk cooking adventures, but they stiffen right back up when I remember what happened at Rib Cage.
With a sigh, I glance over my shoulder at my door. I’d love to crawl back into bed, but Dad leaves for Austin today and this might be my only opportunity to explain the bar fight last night. Even though all three of us punched Houston, I have a strong suspicion Noah is the one who’s going to get into trouble for it.
Rounding the corner, I spot Dad at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in one hand and a piece of toast in the other. There are dark-gray smudges on his cheeks, nose, and forearm, and a big smile on his face as he talks to a sweat-drenched Ryker, who is currently removing sizzling bacon from the electric griddle in a pair of very sweaty running clothes that, judging by the cutoff sleeves, look like they belong to my dad.
It can’t be sanitary to cook like that, but there’s something so wholesome about the scene I can’t find it in myself to interrupt.
“I mean it, son,” Dad says through a bite of toast. “With the way this town is growing, I’ll need people on the force whose judgment I can trust. And as long as you’re twenty-one, you don’t need a degree. The next academy is over six months away, but I might be able to work something out if you’re interested.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ryker says, pulling the last of the bacon off the griddle and loading it onto a plate. “But I’m not staying in Deadwood unless Beau has custody of Charlie. And I refuse to let that happen.”
He walks the bacon to the table, chewing on his inner cheek as he sets it in front of Dad. “But let’s just say I did come back… Do you really think the chief would go for it? I did sort of torment him when I was a kid…”
I suppress a scoff. Torment is an understatement. To this day, Chief Thompson still claims Ryker and Noah are the reason he went prematurely bald.
Dad’s answering smile lights up the whole room. “Doesn’t matter what he thinks.” He gestures for Ryker to take a seat. “Between you and me, Chief Thompson is retiring soon and I’ll be taking over the department. Which means I’m in charge of filling the two vacant positions.”
My fingernails dig into the wall. That’s why Dad’s been working so hard and acting all cagey about it?
I loosen my grip on the drywall. This is significantly less fun than a secret girlfriend. Not to mention how weird it is that he’s keeping it a secret from me—especially since I sort of love the idea of him primarily stationed behind the safety of a desk .
“That’s incredible, sir. Congrats. But did you say two positions?” Ryker leans back in his chair, running his palm over the rough stubble on his cheek, as if mulling something over. “Have you thought about asking Noah?”
Dad barks out a laugh, then clears his throat awkwardly when Ryker doesn’t join him. “You’re a good friend, but no. My son’s got a whole lot of growing up to do. If Willa was old enough, I think she’d make a great cop. But she’s got some time yet.”
Dad glances in the direction of my bedroom, and I dart back into the hallway, stubbing my toe so hard on the back of my opposite heel I have to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming a slew of profanities.
I must’ve missed part of the conversation while I was wallowing in pain because when I peek around the corner again, Dad is shaking his head. “No, I haven’t had a chance to tell her yet. I don’t want her fussin’ over me when she’s got school to worry about.”
“You don’t think she’s going to figure it out when she sees the badge on your shirt every morning?” Ryker asks with a laugh before sobering. “Seriously, you should tell her. I bet she’ll be happy for you. But if you keep this a secret, she’ll be hurt.”
I swallow, unsure if I’m more annoyed that Ryker once again thinks he knows me well enough to make statements like that or by the fact he’s one hundred percent correct.
“You’re right,” Dad says, extending his hand like he’s going to pat Ryker on the shoulder but redirecting at the last second to grab a piece of bacon. “See what I mean? You’re good at reading people. Just promise me you’ll think about it.”
“I will. Thank you, sir.”
A comfortable silence falls between the two while they eat, and after a minute of stewing over why Dad wouldn’t want to tell me about his promotion, I decide it’s safe for me to announce my presence.
I force a yawn as I round the corner, heading straight for the coffee. “Morning. ”
“Mornin’, sweetheart,” Dad chimes. “You’re up early.”
Ryker doesn’t say anything, but I catch his eyes running up the length of my legs from behind the rim of his mug— and the way he immediately averts his gaze, like he’s disgusted by what he sees.
My ears heat as his words from last night come back to me. I’m not interested.
After pulling down the hem of my shorts to better cover my butt, I fill a cup of coffee for myself and open the dishwasher to unload the dishes, my head cocking to the side when I find it already empty. I glance around from one clean kitchen surface to the next. Not only is the coffee made and the toaster already put away, but everything besides the griddle is spotless.
It looks like it was done correctly, too. No streaks on the counters, no fingerprints on the fridge… I flounder for a minute, unsure what to do with myself without my list of dreaded cleaning tasks to accomplish.
“Dad, you didn’t have to do all this.”
“I didn’t,” he says into his cup. “I came home and found Ryker cooking and tidying the place up. He fixed the cabinet, too. Come sit.”
My brow furrows as I eye the perfectly level cabinet hinge.
Inexplicably annoyed that Ryker fixed it so quickly when it would’ve taken Dad and Noah weeks to even look at it, I grab my coffee and head for the table, catching the subtlest hint of wood smoke and peppery aftershave as I ease into the chair next to Dad.
“Does that mean you just got in?”
“It does,” he says with a long exhale before wiping at the gray smudge on the back of his hand. “We had five different fires pop up across town last night. It was a nightmare.”
Uneasiness streaks up my spine.
“Did you find who set them?” Clutching my mug, I catch Ryker’s eye across the table, trying to tell him without words not to mention what we saw or where we were. Noah’s in enough shit without adding that he let me climb the water tower to the mix .
“Not yet, but don’t worry yourself.” Dad reaches over and musses my hair. “Everyone gets a little rowdy on the Fourth. It was probably just some bored teenagers. Now that the old Cartwright place is occupied, they’re finding other ways to waste their time.”
Ryker lifts a brow, eyes boring into mine like he’s waiting for me to tell my dad it wasn’t kids in that field…
I shake my head ever so slightly, again trying to convey my subtle plea for him not to say a word. Once I’m satisfied he’s going to keep his mouth shut, I reach for the bacon, surprised to find that it’s perfectly crispy without being overcooked—which again is a little annoying.
After quickly devouring the first two pieces, I grab another, catching the hint of a smile on Ryker’s lips out of the corner of my eye.
Yep, definitely annoying.
Dad lets loose an exaggerated yawn, snapping me from my glowering. “I’m tapping out. I need a few hours of shut-eye before hittin’ the road. Ryker, thank you for breakfast. You might be a better cook than Willa here, and you for sure make a better pot of joe.”
“I wouldn’t recommend biting the hand that feeds you, sir,” Ryker replies with a chuckle. “But I’ll take the compliment.”
“Joel, son. I keep telling you to call me Joel.” Dad winks at me and then reaches out to pull a feather from my hair. “Get into a fight with your pillow, kiddo?” His smile slips into a pronounced frown as he zeroes in on a lock of my hair before looking away.
I glance down to see if I have food or something else on me, but find nothing.
“Oh, Dad, before I forget,” I start, pushing the odd look from my mind with a large gulp of coffee, “Old Man Dan asked if I could help out around the ranch a few more hours a week. He wants me to bring my pistol until they figure out what’s been taking their livestock.”
Dad rises to his feet with an exhausted sigh, his back cracking loudly as he stretches his arms over his head. “When did you clean it last? ”
I roll my eyes. “Tuesday. When you forced me to go to the range with you… again .”
Every once in a while, Dad decides I spend too much time on my own and plans a day of activities for us. We spend the morning fishing, the afternoon at the range, then grab dinner. Dad’s not an overly emotional man or a big sharer, but he always has new smile lines near his eyes when we get home, and I always feel three inches taller.
Honestly, those days spent out in the sun are the only times I don’t feel like I should be doing something else. Something more . Even the whispers and stares I get in town are less obvious when Dad’s around.
A warmth spreads from the center of my chest out to my limbs as I stare at my father’s soot-stained face. I don’t tell him often enough how much I enjoy our little outings, but I should.
Last Tuesday, however, was an entirely different story. Dad insisted my brother tag along with us. A very hungover Noah slept through fishing, threw up the second we got to the range, and then proceeded to argue with our father for the rest of the day.
“Ah, that’s right. You can grab it from the safe while I’m in the shower, then,” Dad says before turning his attention to Ryker. “What are your plans today? If you still need to talk to Kane about Charlotte, feel free to take the Blazer. If the reports from Rib Cage were accurate, I don’t imagine Noah will be awake or needing it anytime soon.”
“He’ll be up. We’re going to track down Kane around ten.” Ryker shifts in his seat, jaw hardening as he meets my dad’s gaze. “For the record, Noah was defending Willa. That Blackthorne asshole deserved way worse.”
Dad pinches the bridge of his nose, and I tense. Smoothing over the bar fight was the whole reason I came out here in the first place. How could I have let myself get so distracted?
“Oh, I’m aware. That’s the only reason I didn’t drag him out of bed the second I walked in the door. Well, that and the bacon.” Dad lifts a brow. “Good trick, by the way.”
My eyes bounce between the two of them and then to the empty plates and the spotless kitchen… That can’t be what this whole breakfast charade was about?
Ryker shrugs, the picture of nonchalance as he relaxes into his seat.
Holy crap , that is what all this was about.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he replies with a smirk, eyes bright and full of mischief. “I went for a run and didn’t know what to do with myself after. Breakfast seemed as good a task as any.”
Dad laughs. “Like I said, you’re a good friend with an excellent head on your shoulders. Think about my offer.” He leans down to kiss my temple. “I’ll be gone by the time you get back, kiddo. Look after these boys for me, will you?”
“Sure thing, Dad.”
He smiles before trudging down the hallway toward the bathroom, shaking his head slightly as he mumbles to himself. “Thinks he can bribe me with bacon, the nerve .”
Ryker drops his chin, his dark hair falling forward and a smile ghosting his lips. Then, just as quickly as it appeared, the look is gone and he puts two hands on the table, his biceps and chest flexing as he stands.
Throat dry and at a loss for words, I stare, dumbfounded, as he clears the table and starts loading the dishwasher. When he places the first coffee cup at an angle, I rise to my feet.
“The cups will fall over if you load it like that.”
“No, they won’t,” he says, continuing to load dishes in a manner that makes my eye twitch. “This way, water won’t collect on the top and everything comes out dry.”
“But that’s not how?—”
“Not how you do it? Too bad, Princess.”
I blow out a frustrated huff of air and attempt to move around him, but he steps in front of me, blocking my way to the dishwasher. I shift left, and he does it again, this time causing me to smack into his chest.
“You’re working the ranch later?” he asks, popping my chin up with a knuckle and forcing me to meet his gaze.
I narrow my brows, but he just smiles. “I am…”
“There’s no way a few pieces of bacon will get you through the morning, let alone the entire day.” He points to the kitchen table. “Sit down and I’ll cook you up some pancakes.”
I blink at him, struggling to recall the last time someone actually made breakfast for me. Not that it matters. Even if I wanted to take him up on the offer, I never restocked our pantry.
“We don’t have pancake mix,” I say a bit too sharply before softening my tone. “I was trying to avoid good ol’ Dorothy Blackthorne at the grocery store and didn’t get to finish my shopping.”
He rolls his eyes. “First off, you already have all the ingredients. I checked. Second, fuck Dorothy Blackthorne and the rest of those Blackthorne assholes. Except Charlie, of course.”
A smile creeps over my lips. “Of course.”
He grins back at me, and we just sort of stand there, staring at one another, my heart beating faster and faster until the sound of Dad dropping something in the shower breaks the moment.
Ryker clears his throat but doesn’t move away. “Go sit.”
“I can make breakfast for myself,” I reply with a shake of my head. “Let me Google the recipe and?—”
I squeal when he grabs my hips, hoists me into the air, and unceremoniously dumps me onto the counter.
“Fucking hell. You really don’t know how to take it easy for a single second, do you?”
He crowds my space, his skin flooding my senses with a mixture of salt, pine, and hickory bacon as he plants his hands on either side of my ass to box me in. I swallow audibly, which only seems to encourage him because he leans closer, inching my knees apart with his hips until his nose is centimeters from mine.
“Offer still stands, Princess. I’d love to give you a lesson on how to relax. All you need to do is say the word.”
Heat courses through my body, a pounding warmth settling in my center at the memory of the lesson he tried to teach me yesterday— the way his rough palm slid up the back of my thigh and the sharp sting when he spanked me.
My breath quickens before abruptly stalling out when Ryker’s declaration that he’s not interested once again snaps me back to reality — because apparently the thought of me as anything other than Noah’s little sister is laughable. He’s clearly trying to mess with me, which makes my body’s ridiculous reaction to him that much more embarrassing.
Just like that, the heat is overshadowed by the hollow pit forming in my belly. Ryker implied that I was safe with him up on that water tower yesterday. But this sure as hell doesn’t feel safe. It feels…confusing and a little demeaning to have my defensive walls slipping while his remain so firmly in place.
“Why do men do that?” I whisper, not really expecting an answer.
He leans closer, trailing his nose along my jaw like a predator scenting prey. “Do what , Princess?”
“Pretend to flirt with a girl just to mess with her head? Cooper did it in high school.” I push against his chest so I can gesture to his body between my legs. “You’re doing it right now. I don’t get it. We’re not kids anymore. Playing with someone’s emotions for your own amusement isn’t funny or cute. It’s cruel.”
A weighty silence blankets the small kitchen. He opens his mouth, closes it, and then tries again. “Willa, I?—”
The shower shuts off down the hall.
After a quick glance over his shoulder, Ryker pulls away, and my heart gives a painful thud as cool air rushes into the space between us.
Brow heavy, he backs up toward the other side of the kitchen—like he can’t get away from me fast enough. Without a word, he takes out flour, sugar, and baking soda from the pantry. After removing a few more items from the fridge, he nods as if deciding something and then turns to face me.
My eyes drop to the floor, bracing myself for an insult. When it doesn’t come, I glance up to find Ryker still staring at me with his hands on his hips.
“I’ll play nice,” he says thoughtfully. “But I need something from you in return.”
Of course he does . I let go of an exhausted breath. “What do you want?”
“Let me make breakfast for you.”
Blinking, I stare back at him, taking in the slightly hunched set of his shoulders and the way he’s fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.
“Fine. Anything else?”
Ryker’s answering grin is pure mischief. “Try not to let your ego get too bruised when my earth-shattering cooking abilities put yours to shame. Think you can do that?”
Eyebrow arched, I fight the grin tugging at the corner of my mouth.
“Always so arrogant,” I chide, hopping off the counter and heading for the cabinet where I grab one of the Nutella jars and toss it to him. “Seeing how you already forgot the most important ingredient, I don’t think my ego has anything to worry about.”