Chapter 19
“Tell her about that idiot tourist on the glacier.” Sarah aimed her pudding spoon at Ryder. “The one who thought hiking boots were optional.”
Ryder’s mouth twisted at the memory. “He was hypothermic, half-delirious. Kept asking if we took credit cards.”
“In the middle of a blizzard,” Wyatt added, bone-dry. “Because apparently emergencies should be convenient.”
Ivy’s laugh rang out, bright enough to make Ryder’s chest tighten. “Did you charge him extra for the trouble?”
“No.” He shook his head. “But maybe we should start.”
To his surprise, dinner hadn’t been awkward at all. Ivy had slipped into the conversation like she belonged, deflecting Sarah’s subtle questions with humor, matching Wyatt’s dry observations with her own sharp wit.
She fit perfectly at this table, as if the space had been waiting for her. She caught his gaze across the table and shot him a shy smile that made his pulse kick. He smiled back before he could stop himself.
I shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t want her.
But he did, with a ferocity that made pretending otherwise feel pointless.
A soft snore made him turn.
Behind him, Ellie had finally succumbed to exhaustion, curled on the couch, her tulle skirt bunched around her waist. Her endless chatter and lap-bouncing throughout dinner had worn her out completely.
Ryder bent to collect her, but sticky fingers pushed weakly at his chest.
“No, Daddy,” she mumbled, eyes still closed. “Unca Cale.”
Caleb rose from his chair with a sheepish grin. “Sometimes only the favorite uncle will do.” He gathered Ellie into his arms, skirt and all, her head flopping against his shoulder. “Can’t help it if all the ladies can’t resist my charms.”
When Caleb returned from settling Ellie in Sarah’s bed Wyatt lobbed a throw pillow across the room, hitting him square in the chest. “It’s the cookies you bribe them with. Cheap tactic.”
Caleb’s grin widened as he slid back into his chair. “Whatever works.”
“It’s getting late.” Sarah stood and began collecting empty glasses, the clink of crystal filling the brief lull in conversation.
Ivy rose automatically, reaching for plates. “Let me help with the dishes.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Please. I want to.” She stacked the plates, not giving Sarah room to argue.
Sarah’s smile was broad. “Okay then. Thanks, Ivy.” She led the way to the kitchen, their voices fading as the door swung shut.
Ryder stared after them, acutely aware that Ivy had just disappeared into his sister’s territory. Sarah had a lifetime of interrogation instincts sharpened by her badge and wasn’t afraid to use them. He should probably be concerned about what Sarah was asking.
Instead, all he could think about was the muted sound of Ivy’s laugh.
Silence gathered.
He reached for his glass—empty—and set it down again. A log shifted in the fireplace, sparks popping in the lull.
He didn’t need to look up to feel the weight of his brothers’ stares. The air shifted like the pressure drop before a storm. His brothers were about to close in, subtle as a freight train.
Wyatt leaned back in his chair, arms folded. “So. Lady Ivy.”
Here we go. Ryder kept his expression blank.
“She’s lovely.” Caleb swirled the remains of his wine. “And clearly smitten.”
“She’s here for a few more days, then she’s gone.” Ryder said it like a fact, not the fear it was.
“Last I checked, Heathrow still takes arrivals and departures,” Wyatt murmured.
Ryder set his jaw. “I can’t risk it. Not with Ellie.”
“Ellie adores her,” Caleb said. “Kid lit up every time Ivy looked her way. You saw it. We all did.”
“That’s the problem.” Ryder smoothed an imaginary wrinkle in the tablecloth. “Ellie gets attached, and then what? Ivy goes back to England, back to her real life, and my kid’s left wondering why another woman disappeared.”
Wyatt and Caleb exchanged a glance that had his teeth grinding.
“She’s got responsibilities there,” Ryder went on quickly, cutting off whatever they were about to say. “An estate to save. What’s she supposed to do, walk away from that for a medic in Alaska?”
“Funny thing.” Wyatt studied his nails. “Responsibilities don’t stop people who actually want something.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Only because you’re making it complicated,” Caleb said.
Wyatt looked up. “This isn’t about Ivy.”
“The hell it’s not—”
“This is about Miranda,” Caleb cut in quietly. “And you thinking history’s gonna repeat itself.”
Ryder shook his head.
“And believing Ivy will leave you if you take a chance.” Wyatt leveled him with a look.
Ryder pushed back from the table. “You two don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t we?” Caleb’s tone was mild, which made it cut deeper. “Ivy isn’t Miranda. And Ellie deserves to see you happy.”
“I am happy,” Ryder bit out.
Admitting otherwise would mean opening a door he’d spent years bolting shut.
Caleb and Wyatt stared at him in silence. The lie hung in the air between them.
Wyatt sighed. “Can’t remember the last time you looked at a woman like that.”
“And more to the point,” Caleb added, leaning back on two chair legs, “can’t remember the last time someone looked at you like that. She’s already halfway gone on you, and you’re sitting here pretending it doesn’t matter.”
Ryder scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “You’re both insane.”
“Nope. Just not blind.” Caleb let his chair thump down. “I knew you were sunk the second she walked in. Same look you had when you saw your first snowmobile. Except this time, you’re not twelve and drooling on the handlebars.”
Wyatt snorted. “Though you’re doing a decent impression.”
Ryder shot them both a glare.
“We’ve known you your whole life, Ryder.” Wyatt tipped his head, expression neutral. “You can hide behind duty all you want, but not from us. Not when it’s written all over you.”
“And right now, Sarah’s in the kitchen alone with her.” Caleb smirked. “Probably grilling her with Mom’s list of questions. And ‘are you going to break my brother’s heart?’ is definitely on the menu.”
“Might want to rescue her,” Wyatt said.
He glanced at the door. Sarah interrogating Ivy unsupervised with questions about him—about them—sent him surging to his feet.
He stalked toward the kitchen. His brothers’ satisfied expressions trailed after him, irritating as hell.
“This conversation isn’t over,” he warned.
“It is for now,” Wyatt replied smoothly. “Go save your girl.”
He didn’t look back.
She’s not my girl.
But his protest rang hollow. The truth pushed through anyway.
I want her to be.