Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
A car door clicks closed, and my eyes flutter open to take in my surroundings.
It’s so bright out I have to squint, but I’m still in Ryker’s truck, my cheek squished against the open window frame while my hair is gently tousled by the light breeze.
I shoot up. “What time is it? Where’s Charlie?”
“Mornin’, Princess,” Ryker says, a small grin crinkling the corners of his eyes as he turns the key in the ignition and the engine roars to life. “It’s a little after eight-thirty, and Charlie just left with the caseworker. She’s fine, not a scratch on her.”
I grab the oh-shit bar as Ryker pulls the truck onto the road, the abrupt motion causing the cloth draped over my body to slide to the floor. Brows knitting together, I grab the familiar jean jacket and rub the worn denim between my fingers. Did he cover me with this when I nodded off?
That’s…unexpectedly thoughtful.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I try to think back to the last thing I remember. After binge eating the snacks, we’d taken a lap around the house to make sure Beau was still asleep. Ryker was telling me about his major… Criminal Justice, I think? Then I have a vague recollection of him pointing to the east when the sky started to turn pink…
“How long was I asleep?” I yawn, wincing as I catch sight of my ghastly reflection in the windshield.
Good lord, did I get run over by a tractor?
“Two-ish hours,” Ryker says, the current of air from the open window whipping his hair around his face and threatening to dislodge the cigarette perched behind his ear.
I blink. We spent the whole night talking. Not that you’d know it by the sight of him. Besides the dark circles under his eyes, his clothes are unwrinkled and his raven hair is still styled in that messy way that seems purposeful but isn’t.
What the hell? How is he this put together when I look like a discarded Troll doll with my two-toned hair sticking out every which way?
We take a sharp right turn into my driveway before Ryker promptly shuts off the engine and climbs out. I’m about to reach for my handle when I notice he’s still holding his door open, waiting for me. After scrambling awkwardly across the seat, I seize the opportunity to frantically smooth down my hair and rub the dried drool off the corner of my mouth while Ryker grabs the cooler.
It doesn’t help my appearance one bit, and I swear I catch the faintest whisper of a chuckle when Ryker brushes past my shoulder to retrieve two large duffle bags from the truck bed. His shirt rides up as he leans over the edge, and my stomach coils tightly at the sight of his muscular lower back.
“Are you planning on staying for a while?” I mean for the question to sound sarcastic and annoyed, but it comes out a little breathy and excited. Probably because it’s taking all of my concentration to pretend like I wasn’t just ogling the shit out of him.
Hoisting the bags and cooler more securely onto his shoulder, he turns to face me. “As long as it takes to make sure Charlie doesn’t wind up with Beau. ”
“Don’t you have a job back in Denton?” I reach for the cooler, but he brushes me away.
“Not anymore,” he says bitterly, averting his gaze to the distant horizon. “I was canned and evicted within thirty minutes of getting back on campus. Fucking bullshit.”
My face scrunches up with confusion. Ryker spent a good hour telling me about his work-study program as a teacher’s aide last night, but he never hinted that he’d been fired…
“What happened?”
“I was here instead of at work.” He juts his chin toward Beau’s house with a pointed look that has my mouth falling open.
“You’re kidding. They fired you and kicked you out of your dorm because you had a family emergency? They wouldn’t make an exception once you told them what was going on with your sister?”
A muscle in his jaw ticks. “As far as my boss was concerned, there was no excuse for missing three days of work.” He rubs his hand roughly across the stubble on his chin. “The thing that really gets me is that I’ve been his TA for two years. I’ve literally been to the man’s house for dinner. I attended his daughter’s christening, for fuck’s sake… But the very first time I slip up, none of that seemed to matter. He wouldn’t even give me a chance to explain. The motherfucker told me to stop causing a scene and walked away.”
Judging by the heated disdain drenching his voice, there’s a good chance he was causing a scene…but after learning that Ryker’s mom didn’t allow him to explain what was going on with Kane the day she died, it makes sense he’d be defensive about not being given the chance to explain himself.
My fingers twitch as I struggle not to reach out and comfort him. “I’m sorry that happened,” I say instead. “Thinking you know and trust someone just makes it that much more of a betrayal when they finally show their true colors.”
Ryker glances at me out of the corner of his eye, his brows pinched like he’s mulling over my assessment. “Yeah, I guess it does.” He clears his throat and once again readjusts the bags on his shoulder, even though they haven’t moved. “Anyway, I texted your dad this morning, and he said I could stay with you guys until the Charlie situation is cleared up. If you’re not okay with it, I can start looking for another place this afternoon. I’m dead on my feet, though. Would you mind if I crash here for a few hours first?”
Is he asking me for permission? Even though Dad already said it was fine?
I shake my head. “You stayed here a few days ago without consulting me, why are you asking now?”
“A night or two is one thing, a month or more is a lot to handle.” He quirks a bushy brow. “This is your house. I won’t invade your sanctuary any more than I already have if you don’t want me here.”
Well, I’ll be damned. Someone’s actually consulting me on something that affects me…
I’d have been fine with him staying here anyway, especially since he’s back in town for his sister. But I like being asked more than I’m willing to admit, not to mention it creates the perfect opportunity for me to set a few ground rules.
“If I let you stay,” I say, tapping my lip thoughtfully, “will you clean up after yourself and leave the main bathroom door unlocked so the rest of us can pee and brush our teeth?”
His green eyes twinkle with a hint of amusement in the bright morning sun. “Sure, I can do that. Anything else?”
Fighting my own smile, I push further. “Actually, there is. Can you cook breakfast and dinner once a week and do the dishes after?”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “How about three times a week? I’ll even let you show me how you like things cleaned so I don’t fuck it up.”
“Sounds great.” My heart thuds inside my chest. He’s almost being too agreeable… I wonder how far I can take this. “I also want you to stop calling me Princess.”
“Not a chance.”
A smile breaks free of my lips. “Okay, fine. But everything else stands.” I hold out my hand. “ Roommates?”
“Roommates.” He takes my palm in his, and the gentle way his thumb caresses my skin sends a thrill of excitement straight up my arm. “But,” he says a moment later, voice so low the air between us vibrates, “I have a condition of my own.”
“What is it?”
Ryker tugs me closer, and I think I stop breathing when he bends forward to whisper against my ear. “Let me teach you how to throw a punch so you don’t break your goddamn hand.”
My ears flush with heat. That is not where I thought he was going with that…
Yanking my hand free of his, I march toward the door. “Absolutely not,” I toss over my shoulder. “I’m more than capable of knocking a man out. Don’t make me prove it.”
He snorts. “Whatever you say, Princess .”
Even with my back turned, I can hear his smirk as he tries not to laugh. Desperate to keep this newfound peace between us, I decide to let it slide. “Do you have a preference for Noah or Dad’s room tonight?” I ask while unlocking the door. “I can change the sheets in either.”
“The couch is fine.” He bounds up the steps after me, mumbling something I can’t quite hear but sounds an awful lot like “ Fucking Noah .”
Confused, I lead him inside the well air-conditioned house, glancing around for any sign someone might’ve been in here while I was away.
As far as I can tell, there are no new notes or creepy egg cartons full of dirt. I wait for the unease to settle back on my shoulders, but with Ryker grumbling to himself a few feet away, the house once again feels safe.
He bends over to set his bags on one of the couches, and I bite my lower lip, definitely not checking out his butt and how incredible it looks in those tight Wranglers. I mean, damn … You could bounce a quarter off that thing.
Ryker stands, the grin sliding right off his mouth the second he turns to face me. “Don’t fucking look at me like that,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Like what?” I reply a bit too quickly for someone feigning innocence.
“Like you want me to throw away fifteen years of friendship with your brother for a single taste when I’ve already told you I’m not interested,” he growls, eyes trailing a path from my mouth to the crest of my thighs.
My knees tremble from the heat of that single look.
Jesus . Why is his mouth always saying one thing while his feral gaze says the exact opposite… And what does it say about me that my first instinct is to ask him:
What if it’s worth it?