9. Vanessa
9
VANESSA
When I walk into the pole dancing studio a few days later, it’s with trembling hands and nerves rushing through my veins.
The nerves were almost enough to make me turn around. Not just because I feel self-conscious about my body in these shorts and tank top, but also because I have no business being in a place like this.
But just as I’m about to convince myself that there’s no good reason for me to be here, a beautiful, blonde, older woman flashes me a dazzling smile.
“Hi there, are you here for the intro class?” she asks me.
I can’t help glancing at her grey hair as I answer. “Yes, my name is Vanessa. I called yesterday about trying a class.”
“Oh yes, I remember you. Perfect timing. We have two other women here who are also taking their first classes. Please, follow me.”
That makes me feel better, but by the time I realize this woman is going to be teaching the class, a startling amount of tension has left my body. I don’t know why I thought it would only be twenty-year-olds with societally perfect bodies taking the class, but seeing that I’m not going to stand out like a sore thumb because of my age and body is a relief. My steps become surer.
I follow the instructor—named Marina—to the far side of the room, where a few women are already stretching out. I wave a stiff hello to them, then take a seat and start copying their stretches as Marina walks us through what to expect—we’ll warmup, stretch, learn some basic pole techniques, then work on pole strength-building exercises before putting it all together in a final sequence.
The warmup is fine. I’m no stranger to the gym, though I’m more used to spin class and lifting weights with a personal trainer. But once we reach the pole techniques, insecurity comes right back to the forefront.
I don’t feel the least bit graceful. Everything’s awkward. My shirt keeps riding up when I grab the pole up high, and I keep trying to tug it down. None of this feels natural.
I’m a housewife, not a sexy stripper. What am I doing here?
“You have to get out of your head,” comes Marina’s gentle voice from behind me. We’re working on moving around the pole, and it’s obvious she can sense my frustration.
“Try this. Close your eyes.”
I hesitate, pulling in a stuttering breath, then do just that.
“Good. Now…forget everything else. Forget everyone in this class, forget your last try, forget what you think you should be doing. Just breathe, and…let your body move the way it wants to.”
Another shaky inhale, and then, on the exhale, I take a step, letting my hips sway. Then another. On the third, I grip the bar and throw my weight into the step, propelling my body into a spin.
My eyes blink open mid-spin, and I’m so surprised to see I pulled off the move that I let out a squeak and grab onto the pole with both hands, effectively stopping my momentum.
Marina’s clap is the first sound to reach my ears, followed closely by the excited cheers of some of the women around me. I’m still too shocked to react.
Marina has the biggest grin on her face as she steps in front of me, her claps slowing. “And that ,” she says in a passionate whisper, “is how you embrace your inner goddess. Well done, my dear.”
Happiness bursts like an overripe peach in my chest. It mingles with excitement, and passion, and pride . I did that. That’s why I came here. Because I am a beautiful, independent woman who deserves to feel like one.
And it’s about goddamn time I do.
By the time I leave the studio, it’s with excitement buzzing under my skin, already eager to come back. I signed up as soon as class was over. I don’t know if this is just a checkmark on my post-divorce bingo card or if this is going to be something long-term, but for the first time in a long time…I’m excited to find out.
At home I shower, dig into some ice cream, and flip through half a dozen design magazines before I realize I’m restless. Because I don’t want to keep these feelings to myself anymore.
I want to tell Ryder about them.
Not just because I can share this with him, but also because…I kind of have him to thank for it. If it weren’t for Ryder, who knows if I ever would’ve found the courage to put myself out there like this.
Vanessa: Hey. How was your day?
Surprisingly, it takes him a little bit to respond. I know something is up before I even open his text.
Ryder: Honestly, I’ve had better
Vanessa: Oh no, what’s wrong?
Ryder: Just work stuff. Everything that could go wrong did. My brain’s fried.
Vanessa: Are you still at work?
Ryder: Just closing up. Perfect timing because I just looked at my phone for the first time all day.
Vanessa: Would you want to come over? Or are you going home?
Vanessa: Actually, forget I asked, you’re probably too tired
Ryder: Vanessa, you might literally be the only bright spot in my day. I’d love to come over.
Vanessa: Only if you’re sure
Ryder: I’ll be there in an hour
My doorbell rings in forty-five minutes. And when I open the door, it’s clear Ryder has had a hard day. He still looks just as hot as he always does, but there’s tension lining his eyes and his smile isn’t quite as bright.
I want to hug him.
So I do.
Stepping forward, I slide my arms around his neck and squeeze him to me.
“Hi,” I whisper.
I don’t know if it’s surprise or something else that makes him hesitate, but it takes him a second to return the hug. But when he does, he melts into me. His arms go around my waist in an iron grip, and his face buries in my shoulder.
“Hey, babe,” I hear his muffled greeting.
My arms tighten around him, relishing this closeness. I wait for his grip to slacken before I let go. When I slide away, I stay close enough that I can grab his hand and pull him toward the kitchen.
“I made you something,” I say with a smile.
He can’t hide his surprise this time. “You did?”
I pull him to a stop at the kitchen counter, biting down on my lower lip as I nod. When his nostrils flare, scenting my surprise, I open the oven door and remove the chocolate chip cookies I’ve been keeping warm.
“You said you needed proof, so…” No longer able to keep my smile contained, I give Ryder the full force of it as I offer him a cookie.
He takes the first bite, his eyes fluttering closed, and he moans .
My breath hitches at the sound. It’s not lost on me that I’m now on the receiving end of the mirror image of our first meeting at the restaurant.
“ Oh my God ,” he groans, taking another bite. “You were right, these are the best cookies I’ve ever tasted.” I huff a startled laugh when he shoves the entirety of the rest of the cookie in his mouth. “Are you looking for a job as a pastry chef, by any chance?” he asks, his mouth full. “Because I think I might be looking for one now.”
I shake my head with a chuckle, handing him another. “You’re ridiculous,” I say fondly.
He houses the cookie, but when he reaches for another, I finally slide the rest of the cookies into a bowl and grab his hand again so I can tug him in the direction of my basement.
“I have one other thing that’s a known cure for a bad day.”
I can hear him still chewing as he says, “Better than these cookies and your company? Doubtful.”
And I was already warm and fizzing with energy from today, but having Ryder near on top of that? I don’t think I’ve ever been this high on life.
Ryder notices, of course. “You seem chipper. Good day?”
I shine a quick grin over my shoulder. “Not to rub it in, but yes. I had the best day.”
“Well, that sounds promising. Care to share? I’ll live vicariously through you.”
I let out a laugh when I think about Ryder spinning around a pole. “Hold that thought.”
We reach the basement door then, and I let go of Ryder’s hand so we can go down the stairs. When we reach the bottom, I hear his murmured “ whoa .”
The basement is every man’s wet dream, from what I understand. I was the one who designed it, but I included everything my ex-husband asked for in a rec room: a big bar, a pool table, poker table, lounge area with a massive TV. Even though I never come down here, I still recognize that the room is stunning.
I walk behind the bar. “What kind of beer do you like?”
Ryder heaves a big exhale. “What do you have?”
I glance inside the fridge. I asked the property manager to restock everything as soon as I knew I was moving down here, so it’s fully stocked.
“I’ve got Corona, Lagunitas, and a local beer that I haven’t tried yet.”
“Local’s fine, thanks.”
I grab two of the local beers from the fridge, then pop the caps off and slide one across the bar to Ryder. He nods his thanks and takes a swig.
“Ooh, that’s good,” he says, looking at the label. “I’ve seen them around, but I’ve never tried one. I’ll have to see if we can get it at the restaurant.”
I try a sip of my own and immediately agree. I’ve always leaned more toward wine than beer, but now I’m wondering if that was yet another thing that was decided for me.
I take another swig.
It must be more than a swig because Ryder looks amused when I lower the bottle and lock eyes with him across the bar. “So…tell me all about this great day of yours.”
I can’t stop the grin that appears on my face. “I took a pole dancing class.”
Delight twinkles in Ryder’s eyes. “Really? Holy shit, that’s amazing.” When he extends his beer bottle for a cheers, I don’t even hesitate before clinking ours together. “How’d it feel?”
“Incredible,” I say on a big sigh. “I was so nervous, but the women were really nice and the teaching was great. I felt like the sexiest woman in the world by the time I left.”
“You are the sexiest woman in the world.”
Ryder rolls his lips after his quick comment, as if it came out before he could stop it. His cheeks pinken the slightest bit, and he opens his mouth to say something, but then it closes again. His expression turns apologetic.
Except…an apology is the last thing I want from him.
Something has changed. In me. Because the idea of letting Ryder a little closer doesn’t feel as suffocating as it did. Not because he was suffocating, but because I didn’t have enough of my own air to trust in myself that I wouldn’t try to take on his.
And it feels so good to feel that sense of self-confidence. I finally feel more like myself, instead of the reflection of someone else.
So with a smile on my face and eyes locked on his, I say in a soft purr, “Thank you.”
There’s a flash of surprise in his eyes. Then a slow grin stretches across his face. “You’re welcome.”
I watch as he takes a swig of his beer, keeping his attention on me the whole time. I get the feeling he’s waiting to see what I’ll do next.
“How about a game of pool?” I ask.
He lowers the bottle. “Only if you’re not a prodigy at that, too. My ego can’t take the hit today.”
I chuckle and make my way around the bar to the pool table. “I think you’re the one who’s good for my ego.”
I don’t realize he’s passing behind me until I hear his breath on my neck. “Good,” he whispers.
I’m sure he sees the shiver that runs through me, but I don’t care. I want to burn from his effect on me.
I’m not quite sure how to give in to it fully yet, so I busy myself with grabbing the triangle rack and collecting the balls. “I have a confession,” I say after a moment. I wait until Ryder meets my eyes where he’s picking his pool stick. “I have no idea how to play pool. Or how to start. Do the balls have to go in an order in this thing?”
That evokes a chuckle from him. Then he’s walking around the table and pulling the rack from my hands, quickly swiping the balls into the triangle.
“Just that the eight ball has to go in the middle. Do you want to try breaking? Or should I start and make it easier?”
“You can go,” I answer. Partly because I don’t want to mess it up, but mostly because I want to watch him.
Sure enough, the second he leans down to line up his shot, and his muscles ripple under his t-shirt, I become so mesmerized I can’t even remember what game we’re playing. The clack of the balls hitting is the sound that jars me from my thoughts.
I guess one of the balls went in a pocket, because he says, “Looks like I’m stripes.”
He lines up another shot, and once again, I get lost in the sight of him.
But then his shot misses, and when he straightens, there’s a small frown on his face. It’s aimed at the game, obviously, but now I’m remembering the mood he showed up in.
And I want to give him the same support he’s shown me. So instead of taking my own turn, I lean on my pool stick and ask, “Do you want to tell me about your day, too?”
Shaking his head, he says, “Nah, it’s okay. I don’t want to bore you with it.”
Except, I’m not taking the bait. I hold his gaze as I say, “You can, you know. Bore me with it.” My voice softens as I add, “I like hearing you talk about yourself.”
That makes a heavy exhale rush from his lungs. One hand lifts to rub the back of his neck in discomfort. “It’s just stupid distributor mix-up stuff. Nothing big; it just made for a difficult day.”
I nod in understanding, even though I absolutely do not understand that kind of problem. “Does that happen a lot at the restaurant?”
“Thankfully, no. This one was just annoying because it’s the first shipment that came in entirely under my watch.” He hesitates, then adds in a shame-tinged voice, “Kinda made me feel like a failure.”
“Well, that is definitely not true,” I correct immediately. “I doubt any of the previous owners in your family had a perfect first day. And besides—” I quirk a knowing eyebrow in his direction— “I’ll bet you had it all fixed by the end of the day. Am I wrong?”
A sheepish grin pulls at his lips. “It took some maneuvering and a few scoldings, but…yeah, I fixed it.”
Nodding, I step closer, my hand finding his arm in a quick, reassuring touch. His skin is warm, goosebumps pebbling beneath my touch. “See? Capable. You’ll figure it out.”
When I step away, I sense Ryder watching me curiously, but I just take a sip of my beer, ignoring the fluttering in my stomach as I line up for a shot of my own. I manage to hit the ball I’m aiming for, but it doesn’t go where I want it to. I straighten with a sigh.
“Try to breathe through it and follow through,” Ryder suggests. “Slow and steady.” Leaning down, he lines up his own shot and slowly slides the pool stick through his finger a few times. When he eventually hits the ball, it’s still gentle, but it propels the ball enough to go right up to the pocket he was aiming for. It bounces off the edge, but it ends pretty close. When he straightens, he gives me a look that says, now you try .
I’m only half-focused on trying when I lean over to line up the pool stick. The bigger part of me is curious to see what Ryder does if I mess up again.
And when I scratch the table and Ryder comes around to stand behind me, I have my answer.
There’s a slight quiver in his voice when he asks, “May I?”
I barely dare to breathe as I nod in response.
A pause, and then I feel the heat of his body against my back. By the time one hand settles against mine that’s resting on the pool table, and the other goes to my waist, I know I’m not breathing.
“Slow,” he murmurs, his breath brushing like the sweet ocean air over my skin.
The hand on my waist goes momentarily to the pool stick, and I feel him slide it back and forth through my braced finger.
The sensation reminds me so much of fucking that my pussy clenches at the erotic thought.
“Slow,” Ryder says again. And this time, I can feel his rapid heartbeat against my back, can hear the breathlessness in his voice. He’s just as affected by this as I am. When his hand goes back to my waist, I think I feel the faintest trembling.
Forcing myself to suck in a breath, I savor the moment for one more second, and then…I exhale and hit the pool ball.
The ball I was aiming for rolls easily into the pocket.
And even though I was probably half a second away from flattening my back against Ryder’s chest and hoping like hell he still wants me, I find myself grinning with excitement.
Ryder is the one who moves away first. He straightens and takes a step back, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. “See? You’re a natural. Shocker.”
I stand and spin, my grin growing even bigger. “Okay, that was way too satisfying.”
He lets out a laugh and jerks his chin at the next logical shot. “Go ahead, do another one.”
I spin and line up another shot, taking my time to slow my movements. I inhale, and on the exhale, I hit the ball. It just barely misses dropping into the pocket, but it’s a good enough shot that my excitement doesn’t fade.
“Hustler,” Ryder says with a chuckle, his voice coming from just behind me. When I turn around, he’s moved close to the pool table to get ready for his own shot.
And suddenly, I don’t want to play pool anymore.
Ryder must sense the change, because his eyes stay on mine as he leans on his pool stick. His expression challenges me to say what I’m thinking.
I don’t need the challenge. I’m not holding back any longer.
“You know what I’ve always wanted to try?” I ask. He quirks an eyebrow in answer. “I’ve always wanted to go swimming in the ocean at night.”
That makes both eyebrows rise. “Really?”
I bite into my lower lip and nod. When I look over my shoulder at the massive glass sliding doors that lead to a section of my private beach, I can see the way the moonlight illuminates the entire world outside. I can see the sand past the patio area, all the way to the waves crashing against the empty shore.
“Really,” I answer Ryder’s question. “I mean, I have the literal ocean in my backyard, and I’ve never taken full advantage of it.” I turn back to look at him. “I think that’s a shame. Don’t you?”
Ryder’s eyes dart over my shoulder to the beach behind me. “It’s definitely a shame. But I don’t have a swimsuit with me.”
Bull’s eye.
“That’s okay. Skinny-dipping is also on my list.”
And then I’m whirling around and heading for the beach.