Chapter 9 #3
He laughed. “I might not like people much, but I’m not a recluse.
I’ve seen a fair bit of the world, and I’ve worked in a whole range of jobs, including a roofing gang, helping to run a food truck, and doing track maintenance for the Department of Conservation.
But through it all, I also tried to get as many hours as I could helping other landscaping businesses when they needed an extra hand and learning from them.
Eventually, I had enough to go out on my own.
My mother was a skilled gardener and I knew my plants and shit from a young age.
But I needed some business savvy along with it.
” He huffed. “I still do, as it turns out. I do okay. The business isn’t struggling or anything.
But I’m still not great at that side of things. ”
“Preaching to the choir here,” I told him. “I suck at peopling. I’d rather be in my PJs in front of my computer screen than go to meetings or events to promote or sell what I do.”
Ryder frowned. “I thought you wrote software. Does that involve dealing directly with clients as well?”
Fuck. I fumbled for an answer that wasn’t a direct lie.
“The company has a PR guy and salesperson, but they don’t always understand the technical side of coding, especially if there are limits or problems with what the client wants versus what is actually possible.
I tag along to provide that. Hence, the suit I was wearing the other night.
I was supposed to be at a client meeting that day.
” All of it true, omitting the crucial information that I, in fact, owned the company in partnership with my ex-best friend.
When Ryder didn’t press me further, I circled the conversation back to my efforts with the plywood. “I have no idea what I’m doing with this.”
Ryder looked over my shoulder at the markings I’d made on the piece of plywood using an old frame he’d given me as a template. “Looks pretty good to me.” He took the tape and checked the measurements. “Not bad at all. It’s just a temporary patch, Thaddeus. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”
“I don’t do not perfect,” I groaned, and slumped onto the narrow bench.
“I told you, I sucked at DIY.” I scooted over, and he sat beside me; his warm thigh pressed hard against mine.
I swallowed a smile; fairly certain the bench wasn’t that small.
I also wasn’t complaining. It felt . . .
nice. He felt nice. What we were doing, working together in the greenhouse, felt nice.
I dragged a hand down my face and wiped it on my sweats. “I think I’m having a hot flush. Men can do that, right? I’m sure I read it somewhere. What the hell do you grow in here that needs nuclear reactor-meltdown temperatures to grow?”
Ryder’s eyes danced with humour. “That’s a little dramatic, even for you.”
I huffed. “You think this is dramatic? You should see me when the Wi-Fi goes down.”
Ryder laughed. “Oh, I can imagine.” He looked around the troughs and benches, pointing as he answered my question.
“I don’t utilise the glasshouses as much as I could because the ventilation and irrigation systems have .
. . issues. I upgraded the ventilation control panel a couple of years ago.
Bought some flash electronic thing, but it’s still unreliable.
You can waste a lot of money on dead plants.
I mostly grow herbs and microgreens. They seem to like the guttering system, and if I can get the hydroponic irrigation to stop glitching, I’ll eventually start selling them, but being so small and fragile, they’re super sensitive to even small changes in water and temperature. ”
“And you can’t just get the irrigation fixed?”
He gave me a look. “It all costs money, which I’m not exactly rolling in right now. Not with the legal costs involved in fighting the council.”
“Right. Of course.” How to look like a thoughtless idiot in one easy lesson.
Ryder continued. “I do propagate some of the more expensive subtropical garden varieties and sell them directly to clients. And I raise seedlings for my own vegetable garden and manage to grow a few exotic fruits. I’m already picking tomatoes, and the melons are way ahead of schedule.
It’s pretty damn satisfying if I’m honest.”
I couldn’t hide my smile at his obvious fervour. This was a whole different side of Ryder. He was in his element, and I was totally hooked. The guy was cute as fuck.
When Ryder saw my grin, he blushed. “Sorry. I get a bit carried away.”
“Don’t apologise.” Without thinking, I took his hand. “It’s . . . sweet.”
He groaned.
I smirked and tried to sound serious, “But in a really manly way, of course. As in super manly. The manliest.”
“Jesus Christ,” he grumbled. “You are such a pain in my arse.”
I waggled my brows and murmured, “Chance would be a fine thing.” Ryder responded with a loud groan, and I nudged my shoulder against his. “And my work here is done. Change of topic—”
“Thank God,” he muttered.
I fixed the plywood with a glare and tapped my pencil marks. “Are you sure this is okay? You won’t hurt my feelings if it’s not. The very idea of using that electric jigsaw thingy is doing my head in.”
“Circular saw,” Ryder corrected, trying and failing to hide his smile.
I threw up my hands. “See, I can’t even get the name right.” I tapped my forehead. “This brain was never meant for construction. It functions strictly in binary code.”
Ryder chuckled. “You’ll be fine. It’s me you should feel sorry for. I’m the one who’ll be fixing the damn thing in place.”
I followed his gaze up to the gaping hole on the glass roof and blew a low whistle. “That has to be four metres, at least.”
“Four point five, but who’s counting?”
“Oh my God, you don’t like heights,” I said, way too gleefully. So, the Nordic God wasn’t perfect after all.
He snorted and shot me a wry look. “Not particularly.” He blew out his cheeks, took a long swallow of coffee and stared uneasily up at the empty frame.
A thrill of excitement coursed through me. “You’re just duct taping it in place, right? Until you get the glass cut?”
He nodded. “We can feed it through to the other side so that it sits on top and then hold it in place with tape attached to the metal framework inside.”
My back straightened and I announced, “Well, shit, I can do that part. It’ll be a piece of cake. Heights aren’t a problem for me—” I tilted my head toward the table. “—unlike tape measures and power tools. Swap you.”
He considered me for a second as if making sure that I was serious. Then his gaze travelled back up to the hole in the roof, and a slow smile spread over his face. “You’ve got yourself a deal. But only if I’m holding the ladder.”
I held out my hand. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
His large grip was warm and solid around mine, his palm rough, his thumb lingering on the back of my hand long enough for my cock to get a little unruly.
“You want to be careful, Ryder—” I slipped free of his grasp and cocked my head. “—or I might start thinking you actually want me.”
He snorted and put some distance between us. “Like that’s not patently obvious already. You’re a wicked temptation, Thaddeus Grey. Something I believe you’re well aware of.”
“Pfft.” I flicked my hand casually in dismissal. “Don’t blame me for your lack of control.”
His eyes locked on mine, and I glimpsed a feral flash of teeth. Then he responded slowly and deliberately. “If I lacked even the smallest amount of control, then believe me, you’d already know it.”
Holy crap. I fumbled for a reply, any reply, because if there was ever a comeback guaranteed to crank my shit, that pretty much nailed it.
The idea of watching Ryder Nelson lose control either with or about me was as sexy as it got.
I swallowed hard and somehow croaked, “A lucky escape then, right?”
Ryder rolled his eyes and took the empty cup from my hands. “Here’s a thought. Why don’t you grab the ladder while I cut the plywood?”
I looked him up and down. “Are you chickening out of the conversation?”
He grinned. “Absolutely.”
“Fine.” I returned his grin. “So long as we’re clear about that.”
I moved the ladder into position and climbed the first few rungs to see how stable it felt.
The tiled floor had sunk in a few places over the years, and I was glad Ryder would be there if I needed him.
When he had the plywood cut to size, I climbed to the top, and Ryder supported the ladder while I manoeuvred the patch into position and secured it.
When I was almost done, I glanced down and caught Ryder staring at my arse.
“Ryyyyyder.” I tut-tutted. “Whatever are you doing?”
His cheeks blew red . . . again, and he quickly looked down. “Sorry.”
I grinned to myself. The man truly sucked at hiding his feelings, but it was kind of nice.
The majority of men I’d dated treated their feelings like a disease they had to hide from the public.
A sign of weakness in a world that mostly didn’t give a shit.
Ryder was either incapable of hiding them or simply chose not to.
His interest in me was in every covert look he sent my way.
Which only made his refusal of my very blatant and ongoing invitations something pretty extraordinary, at least in my world.
“Look all you want,” I countered, making my way down the ladder until I was standing in front of him.
“It’s kind of reassuring to know that even if my mother doesn’t necessarily agree, Judd wasn’t some kind of unicorn, and there are other options for my future waiting out there.
Hopefully, better ones.” I was only half-teasing and Ryder knew it.
“Trust me, you’ll have a lot of options,” he argued, meeting my eyes. “So maybe don’t settle next time. Wait for the right one, and to hell with your mother.”
I studied him for a moment. “You’re pretty good at this coaching shit, you know. Maybe you missed your calling?”
“You mean spend all day listening to people talk about their problems when there are gardens to plant? Are you crazy?”
I laughed at the horrified look on his face. “Yeah, point taken.” I stepped back and looked up. “Not too bad, even if I do say so myself.”
“Agreed.” Ryder held his hand up for me to high-five, and I obliged. “Which means—” He turned and gripped my shoulders in his hands, looking so fucking serious, I almost laughed. “—there’ll be no more talk of you being a runner or not being brave. It takes balls to do what you just did.”
It was nice of him to say, but “Not really. Heights don’t worry me, so it’s hardly courageous—”
He pinched my lips together, his gaze intent on mine. “Nope, Thaddeus. Not. Another. Word.”
I obliged because my brain had basically gone into meltdown.
The electrifying feel of Ryder’s rough fingers on my skin, on my lips, sent every cell in my body into a state of hyperawareness on a scale that confounded me.
Yes, Ryder was hot. And yes, for absolute sure, I’d love to lose myself in a tumble or two with him between the sheets.
But this, right now? This . . . feeling?
This was more than lust. This was like with a capital L, and that meant trouble.
I may not have led a loose sexual life, far from it, but I was no virgin either.
Lust was one thing, but this kind of attraction?
Oh, hell no. I was done with that for a long, long time.
And like he felt it too, Ryder dropped his hand as if the touch of me burned him.
He stepped back and fell over his words.
“All I’m saying is that everyone has shit they’re scared of.
For me, it’s heights, along with a few other things—don’t ask.
For you, it’s dealing with conflict. My sisters like to say that change happens when you can take your courage from one context and learn to use it in another.
I admire you for being able to scoot up that ladder without even blinking an eye.
I could’ve done it, sure, but I’d be a shaking mess right about now.
It’s something I’ve tried hard to overcome—you should see the shit I have to climb—but I still hate it. ”
I smiled and offered a snappy dismissive salute. “Thanks for the pep talk.” It wasn’t the right response, I knew it, but in that moment, I felt a little too seen.
Ryder hesitated, then took the hint and segued to a new subject. “On the subject of things that scare us, or rather, me, would you consider taking a look at my ventilation control system? I don’t even know if that’s in your wheelhouse.”
“Oh my God! Finally, something I’m actually good at!” I rubbed my hands together and shot Ryder a wink. “Or brilliant at, if I’m honest.”
Ryder laughed. “I think I like this side of you.”
I grinned. “If it has software anywhere in its name, I’m your guy. Lead on.”