3. Ryder
3
RYDER
God, she’s beautiful.
I still can’t wrap my head around that asshole not showing for their date, because I took one look at Vanessa and wanted to crawl across the restaurant.
She looks amazing in the simple, knee-length black dress she’s wearing, her brown hair flowing around her shoulders in waves and her makeup subtle enough to emphasize her green eyes but not hide her sun-kissed cheeks. I could barely take my eyes off her the entire time I was waiting on her. If the restaurant wasn’t my family’s, I may have thrown all professionalism to the wind and simply taken the seat across from her.
And damn , did I want to. I wanted to get her talking, learn about her likes and dislikes, her hobbies and interests. Not just because I wanted to know all those things, but also because there was a hint of something in Vanessa’s eyes that told me she didn’t think my interest was completely genuine. Maybe she thought I was just flirting for a tip, I don’t know.
Now, we’re sitting at a bar, and she’s sent me a drink, and I’ll admit, I had to pinch myself as I walked over to join her. I was entirely too excited to meet her as just Ryder .
I’m snapped out of my thoughts when there’s the very distinct shout of my name, Vanessa’s focus sliding over my shoulder. And my inkling earlier about her not believing my interest to be genuine is all but confirmed when she smiles tightly and says, “I think your friends are trying to get your attention.”
I never look away from her. “Too bad. My attention is elsewhere right now.”
Sure enough, her eyes widen. “You don’t want to go back to them?”
“Not even a little bit.”
Her brow furrows as she looks back at my friends. “You should go. I don’t want to keep you. I just wanted to say thank you for dinner and the recommendation?—”
“Take a walk with me.”
That earns me a stunned blink. “You want to take a walk with me?”
“More than anything. Come on, let’s get out of this loud bar.” I take a big swig of beer for courage, flip off my friends, and reach for Vanessa’s hand so I can tug her off the barstool.
Not only does she automatically follow, but her hand also tightens around mine. By the time we clear the crowd and reach the beach area of the bar, I’m trying to figure out if I’m bold enough to keep hold of it.
But then a drunk couple walks between us, and we separate. I swallow the disappointment and tell myself it would’ve been too soon anyway. In fact, I might be too bold for suggesting a walk. I’m a stranger to her, after all.
“Would you rather sit in the bar’s beach chairs?” I ask, gesturing toward the huge bean bags placed all over the sand. “We don’t have to go for a walk; we can stay here. I just wanted to get away from the crowd.”
“No, I think a walk sounds perfect,” she says without any hesitation. “It was a little much for me in there, too.” As she slips her sandals off and wiggles her toes in the sand, a content smile curls her lips.
She picks up her shoes, then waits for me to remove mine before we start down the beach. The bar area is only marked another hundred feet, but the open sand stretches as far as I can see, people scattered everywhere.
“Did you grow up down here?” she asks.
“Yeah. I’m probably missing a huge life experience by never moving away from my hometown, but I’ve always loved this place too much to ever want to leave.”
“I don’t blame you, I love the beach,” she says with a happy sigh. “Moving down here was such a good decision.”
The joy in her voice makes me smile. “Yeah? Why’s that?”
“It’s just so peaceful here,” she says. “I mean, there’s a reason people vacation in small beach towns. Living here full-time sounds like literal paradise.”
“Say that again after you’ve experienced the Fourth of July chaos as a resident,” I grumble.
Her laugh rings out, the warm summer air swallowing the sound before I can get enough of it.
“So, our humble little beach town has treated you well so far?” I ask around a tight throat.
When her smile brightens, I have to shove my hands in my pockets so I don’t reach for her.
“Very well,” she answers. “It’s only been two weeks, but spending my days lying on a beach with a good book and eating incredible food has made my problems basically nonexistent.”
“Definitely paradise,” I agree.
“Although, I haven’t really done much else. It’s just been so long since I’ve been out of the city.” She turns to look at me, though we’re still walking in slow, even strides. It hits me that we’ve walked enough that there are fewer people on the beach around us now. “What do people like to do for fun around here?”
“Lots of things. Beach, carnival. There’s your classic mini golf, for which there are approximately seventeen thousand locations to choose from. My mom really likes to do sunrise yoga on the pier. And my nieces and nephews never miss a Tuesday night movie on the beach.”
That piques her interest. “They do movies on the beach?”
“They’re usually kids’ movies, but yeah. They have a huge projector down near Pier 12. It’s a really cozy setup.”
“That sounds so fun,” she says wistfully. Then she turns to look at me. “What do you like to do around here?”
“Me? I’m a big watersports guy.”
“Shocker,” she mumbles.
My lip twitches with amusement. “I detect a bit of sarcasm, Vanessa. Why’s that?”
She startles when she realizes she said that out loud. The moon is bright enough tonight that I can still make out the pink on her cheeks. Her gesture toward my body is jerky as she explains, “I mean…it’s obvious you’re athletic.”
I have to fight like hell not to let my grin take over my whole face. “I was hoping you were checking me out at the restaurant.”
She laughs breathily. “Don’t act like you don’t know you’re attractive.”
“Knowing it and hearing a beautiful woman say it out loud are two very different things.”
Another blush, this time paired with a smile.
I wonder how many more of those I can get out of her tonight.
“So, what kind of watersports?” she asks.
I sense her distraction tactic but answer anyway. “Jet skis. Parasailing. I especially love surfing, though the waves around here aren’t the greatest.”
Her eyes are wide when she turns toward me. “Parasailing? That sounds terrifying.”
“It just feels like flying.”
“Exactly. Terrifying.”
I chuckle at that. “Are you a watersports kind of girl, Vanessa?”
She releases a thoughtful hum, staring straight ahead. “I don’t know. I’ve never done any.”
Now I’m the one who’s surprised when I turn to look at her. “Are you serious? Never ?”
Shaking her head, she shrugs. “Nothing beyond sitting on a boat with a cocktail.”
“All due respect, I refuse to call that a sport.”
The joke lands right where I wanted it to, and she rewards me with more sweet laughter.
“You should definitely try jet skiing, at the very least,” I tell her.
“Okay, fine,” she concedes. “I’ll consider jet skis. But I reject the parasailing idea.”
“That’s fair,” I say with a chuckle. “What’s in the non-reject pile?”
“Well, now I’ve added mini golf, sunrise yoga, and movies on the beach.”
I huff out a laugh. “That sounds like the ultimate to do list. Is your work remote, then?”
Immediately, every muscle in her body tenses.
Fuck. Me and my big mouth. I couldn’t have iced this conversation any more if I tried.
“Sorry, that was probably intrusive,” I mumble. “Don’t answer that.”
“No, it’s fine,” she says, although it’s clearly not. But then she exhales a heavy sigh and her shoulders sag. “How ridiculous is my life that a question about my job can stunt the conversation.”
“That was definitely not my intention,” I rush to say. “I just wanted to know more about you. We can talk about whatever you want to talk about.”
“I think… I think I want to talk about it,” she says after a few seconds. Her glance toward me is unsure. “If I’m not completely ruining the mood.”
At this point, I’m not even sure that’s possible.
“I’ll listen to anything you want to talk about,” I assure her. Then, to hopefully put her even more at ease, I add, “As your waiter slash therapist, I insist.”
And thank God, it works. A smile reappears on her face and some of the tension leaves her shoulders.
“I’ll remind you later that you asked for this,” she says with a playful hip check.
It only makes me grin.
She takes a big breath. “So basically, I haven’t had a job in nine years.”
I blink at that. “Okay…”
“After we got married, my ex started insisting that I didn’t need to work. God knows he made enough money, so from a financial aspect, he was right. And I was young and still trying to figure out my career, so it’s not like I was attached to my job and dying to keep working. So I just…quit. And never went back.”
I hum thoughtfully. “What was your job when you got married?”
“I was a secretary. That’s how I met my ex-husband: he was my boss.”
“Well, there’s your first red flag. That only works in romance novels.”
She huffs a surprised laugh. “Tell that to his new girlfriend.” When my brow furrows in confusion, she explains, “She’s his secretary. And the woman I caught him fucking.”
“Christ,” I murmur. “What a dickbag.”
She looks like she might want to defend him, but then she sighs and says, “Yeah, kinda. But I never blamed him for the career decision. He just grew up with a very distinct vision of men and women and what marriage should be like. He really thought he was taking care of me by insisting that I didn’t need to work.”
I sniff. “I’ll just keep my opinions to myself, then.”
She doesn’t try to tamp down on her smile.
“So do you want to be a secretary again?” I ask instead.
Her response is instant. “No. I want to do something I love.”
“And what do you love?”
“I have no idea.” She sounds dejected, but when she shifts her focus to me, she almost looks hopeful. “How did you figure out what you want to do?”
I kind of hate the answer I have to give her because it’s clearly not the one she’s looking for.
“I think I always knew I wanted to work in a restaurant,” I admit. “Even when I was young, I loved making food that people enjoyed. It’s kind of my love language.”
And yeah , she seems a little disappointed by that information. Because that’s not something she can replicate to find what she loves.
“I was really lucky that I had a supportive family,” I go on. “And not just because the restaurant was passed down to me. My family is really big on pushing each other to do what makes them happy. My whole dream just kind of dropped into my lap.”
“Something tells me you would’ve figured it out on your own, too. You seem like the kind of man that goes for what he wants.”
I can’t look away from her, too mesmerized by her thoughtfulness and the way the moonlight illuminates her face. “I try to be,” I say hoarsely.
There’s a pause in her steps, and she glances up at me from beneath lowered lashes. The heaviness of the moment evaporates, stilled by a different kind of weight that has my pulse pounding.
My focus drops to her lips—just for a second, just because she’s so damn tempting. When I meet her eyes again, I see something flickering there that I hope I’m reading right.
I only hesitate for a moment before I take a slow step closer, never once looking away from her.
“You know what I really want right now?” I ask, voice lowering.
Her answer comes out in a breathless whisper. “What’s that?”
I let my gaze travel over the shadows on her face. “I want the clouds to fuck off so I can see your pretty smile again.”
There’s a pause, and then…
A laugh bursts out of her.
I quirk an eyebrow at her, forcing dryness into my tone as I try to smother my smile. “I’m sorry, are you laughing at me when I’m flirting with you?”
She covers her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter. “I can’t help it, that was so bad!”
I’m too enamored by her to respond.
“You can’t tell me that works on other women,” she asks with a chuckle.
I’m already close enough to touch her, so it takes nothing at all to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her against me, close enough that I can place my lips against her ear and whisper, “Got you to smile, didn’t it?”
When I pull back to look down at her face, the laughter is nowhere to be found. Instead, I can see the banked fire once again flickering in her eyes.
“What did you really want to say?” she whispers.
With the hand not holding her to me, I cup her face, taking in every inch of her as I breathe the truth against her lips.
“That you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Her breath hitches, and I’m officially powerless to resist her.
Tilting her face up, I take her lips in a slow, sweet kiss, reveling in the taste of her—and in the knowledge that she’s kissing me back. Her hands fist in my shirt, clinging to me as she lets me lead. It’s a heady feeling, especially when I slide my tongue along her bottom lip and she opens to me instantly.
I sink into the kiss with a groan.
When I finally pull back, we’re both breathing heavily. It takes me a few seconds to gather enough air—and collect my fractured thoughts—to speak.
“I’ve been thinking about doing that all night,” I admit in a raspy whisper.
Her chest heaving, her gaze darts between my eyes. I can’t get a read on her. I have no idea what she’s going to say, or what happens next, I just know I was going to die if I didn’t kiss her?—
Suddenly, Vanessa pushes up on her toes and silences my spiraling with her soft lips.
And this kiss is ten times hungrier.