Chapter 15
Ryder’s palms were damp as he turned toward town, heading for Ellie’s preschool.
In his rearview mirror, Ivy was a still shape fading into the snow.
Fuck.
He dragged his gaze away from her to the road ahead.
The image of her face behind the waterfall burned in his mind—water droplets studding her hair like diamonds, her lips parted, looking at him like he was something worth wanting.
The way she’d shut him out afterward, eyes going distant.
She’d tasted of mint and rain. His body hadn’t recovered—skin still buzzing where she’d touched him, lungs pulling in short breaths. His hands remembered her waist, how perfectly she’d fit against him. He clenched the wheel until his knuckles burned.
What the hell was I thinking?
He’d crossed a line he’d sworn never to cross again. After Miranda he’d made a promise to himself—no more complications, no more women who could walk away and shatter the life he’d built for Ellie.
No.
He couldn’t risk anyone hurting Ellie like that again.
Wouldn’t.
He should be relieved she’d put the brakes on. Should be grateful one of them had sense. Instead, he wanted to go back to that waterfall and prove to her it wasn’t a mistake at all.
Which was exactly why he needed to stay the hell away from her.
The preschool parking lot was nearly empty when he pulled up, his hands still unsteady as he killed the engine. Double doors opened and a wave of small children surged out. The moment Ellie spotted him, her face lit up with the pure joy that never failed to level him.
“Daddy!” She barreled into his legs, shoving her face between his knees.
He scooped her up and landed a kiss on her cheek.
“Daddy, look.” She pressed a bedraggled painting against his chest.
“Did you do this?” He unfolded the paper and admired a two-legged purple explosion encrusted in glitter. “Wow, bug, this is amazing.”
“Dinnysawr, Daddy. Dinnysawr.” She made a face and roared.
He studied her masterpiece. “This is the best dinosaur I’ve ever seen. Does it have a name?”
“Twirly.”
“Amazing.”
As he drove to the store, Ellie chattered about her day—how Ben had eaten some of her purple paint and she’d helped feed the class hamster. Her voice washed over him, centering him in ways nothing else could.
This was what mattered. His Ellie.
Not the memory of Ivy’s lips against his, not the way she’d felt in his arms like she belonged there.
The grocery store was quiet, most of the after-work rush having cleared out. Ellie rode in the cart, hands clasped on the handle like a tiny co-pilot, hopefully suggesting chocolate cereal and giggling that the bananas looked like big smiles.
This was his life, and he was good with it.
Groceries unpacked, Ryder drove the thirty minutes out of town to his parents’ cabin. The porch light cast a warm glow over the front steps, where his dad’s muddy boots sat next to a pair of Ellie’s tiny sneakers from previous visits.
The door opened before they’d even reached it, spilling laughter and the scent of garlic and melted cheese into the cold air.
“There’s my biggest granddaughter,” his mom called, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.
“Gramma!” Ellie launched herself upward.
His mom caught her, spun her in a circle and peppered her with kisses. “Come, sweetie. Let’s see what I have for you.”
“Hey, Mom.” He kissed her cheek and followed them into the kitchen. “Smells great.” The house buzzed with familiar chaos.
Caleb was giving Wyatt grief, gesturing wildly with a beer bottle. “Robotic lawnmower, Wyatt? You getting soft?”
Wyatt didn’t rise to the bait. He lounged back in his chair, long legs stretched out, a beer balanced loosely in his hand. His gaze flicked to Ryder before returning to Caleb. “You’re just jealous it cuts straighter than you ever managed.”
Caleb barked a laugh. Grace rolled her eyes, baby Josie propped against her shoulder, patting the baby’s back.
Ryder caught the faint glint in Wyatt’s eyes. The same look he’d worn many times since leaving the marines, as if he saw more than he’d ever say.
Ellie migrated to Grace’s side, peering at the baby with fascination. “Yosie little. Me hold?”
“Maybe after dinner, sweet pea,” Grace said. “She just ate.”
As if on cue, Josie let out a tremendous burp.
Ellie screamed in delight. “Yosie, frog!”
The sound of his daughter’s giggles should have eased the tension riding his shoulders.
Usually, this house felt like an anchor—the one place where everything made sense, where the weight of single parenthood felt manageable.
Tonight, though, Ryder couldn’t shake the restlessness clawing at his chest.
His mom called them to eat. Her homemade lasagna dominated the table, with bowls of salad and garlic bread. His stomach cramped. He’d not eaten since the sandwich with Ivy.
Ivy.
He’d forced his mind back to the here and now and was cutting Ellie’s lasagna into bite-sized pieces when the front door opened with Sarah’s characteristic lack of ceremony.
“Sorry I’m late,” she called, shrugging out of her uniform coat and hanging it on the back of her chair. “Had to finish some paperwork.”
His mom was already up, fixing Sarah a plate while his dad poured her a glass of wine.
“Long day?” his dad asked, as Sarah settled into her seat and helped herself to garlic bread.
“Interesting day.” Sarah tore the bread in half, eyes sliding to Ryder. “Met the new heiress in town. Ivy Lambourne. You know—the English rose?”
Ryder’s fork slipped, clattering against his plate.
“I can see why you mentioned her, Ryder,” Sarah continued, tone deceptively casual.
Wyatt tipped his chair back, eyes locked on Ryder. “She rattled off specs on the GX like she’d flown it herself.” His mouth quirked. “Didn’t see that coming.”
Grace adjusted Josie against her shoulder, patting the baby’s back. “I was at the library this afternoon for Baby Story time, and Mrs. Klinkhart mentioned seeing Ivy there too. Said she was buried in the archives, researching BlackRock. Sounds like she came prepared.”
Ryder’s stomach sank. Was everyone in town keeping tabs on her?
Sarah glanced at Grace then back to Ryder with her sheriff stare. “Anyway. Figured I’d do the civic thing. I invited her and her brother George to dinner at my place Saturday night. Everyone’s welcome.” She wiped her hands on a napkin, one brow lifting. “Should be enlightening.”
Ryder’s grip hardened on his knife until the wooden handle creaked. “You did what?”
Every face swung his way—surprise and curiosity he didn’t want to see. The silence stretched until even Ellie looked up from her lasagna, sensing the shift.
Wyatt’s face was unreadable, cataloging intel, but Caleb chuckled. “About time you noticed someone other than Ellie and engine parts.”
Ryder hissed a breath through clenched teeth. “It’s not—” He broke off, glaring at his plate. “You’re reading too much into it.” His voice was level, but his pulse was feral.
I’m not going.
But refusing would only raise more questions and make Ivy more significant. Better to pretend she was nothing. Better to keep his mouth shut and go to the damned dinner.
He made himself look up. His parents exchanged one of those looks—the kind that said his mom was filing this information away for future reference and probably planning to call Sarah later for all the details.
“It’s not—” He caught himself. Across the table, Grace was trying not to smile, and his mom was practically glowing. “I just think it’s too soon to be inviting people we barely know.”
“I’m the sheriff,” Sarah said mildly. “It’s my job to vet newcomers. It’s dinner, not a shotgun wedding.” Her shoulders lifted. “And for what it’s worth? I liked her. She’s grounded. Not like most outsiders who think Alaska’s a photo op.”
“Besides,” his mother chipped in, “it’ll be nice to have some new faces around the table. Ivy sounds lovely.”
Ryder wanted to argue, to find some excuse that would get him out of Saturday night’s dinner without revealing how thoroughly Ivy Lambourne had gotten under his skin.
But Ellie was watching him with curious eyes, and he couldn’t explain why the thought of her being around Ivy again made his chest feel like it was caving in.
It’s about protecting her. Nothing else.
The conversation moved on, but Ryder pushed lasagna into neat lines, ignoring the sidelong glances pricking his skin.
Ellie, oblivious to the undercurrents, chattered about Josie’s burps and Ben eating her paint. Her innocent happiness eventually pulled him back from the edge, a reminder that some things still made sense.
By the time dessert was finished and the dishes cleared, Ellie was flagging, rubbing at her eyes. He gathered her into his arms, breathing in the scent of her apple shampoo.
At the front door, his mom stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. “You okay, sweetheart?”
He shifted Ellie’s weight, her head heavy against his shoulder. “Just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
Because his mind had been on Ivy all night.
“Ryder.” Her voice carried the particular note that meant she wasn’t buying his deflection. “I just want you to be happy. What happened with Miranda doesn’t have to define your whole life.”
He gave a soft grunt. “It already does, Mom. Ellie is my life.”
“I know.” Her expression was understanding, and somehow that made it worse. “But duty isn’t the same as joy, honey. You deserve more than just holding things together. You deserve someone who holds you.”
He couldn’t meet her eyes. The hope in them felt like pressure against a crack—one wrong word and he’d break open.
“We should go. It’s past Ellie’s bedtime.”
“Ryder—”
“Goodnight, Mom.”
The drive home passed in blessed quiet, Ellie asleep in her car seat, her breathing soft and even in the darkness. At a red light, he glanced in the rearview mirror at her peaceful face—flushed cheeks, dark lashes against her skin, one small hand curled around her stuffed bear.
He sighed.
Saturday night, he’d have to sit across a dinner table from Ivy Lambourne and pretend his world hadn’t shifted on its axis in the space of one kiss. He’d have to watch her charm his family the way she’d charmed him, all while knowing she’d be gone in a matter of days.
The smart thing would be to keep his distance, protect what he’d built. After all, she’d told him that kiss was a mistake.
The light turned green, and he eased the truck forward, headlights sweeping the empty road.
What he had was enough. Ellie, his family, work.
He pulled into his driveway and killed the engine. Through the windshield, his home sat dark and quiet. Waiting.
He reached back and unbuckled Ellie, her small body slack with sleep. Her breath warmed his neck as he lifted her close.
For a moment he just stood there, the night pressing in, her small heartbeat against his ribs.
Enough.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside.
The hallway stretched ahead—her room to the right, his at the far end.
He carried Ellie to bed first, because that’s what came easiest. The part he knew how to do.