Chapter 8
RYDER
Ryder, it’s Bianca. It’s been a week and you still haven’t called me back. We need to talk. Please, just…don’t shut me out. I love you.
I hung up the phone and tossed it on the bed. Still under the covers, it was nice to sleep in. I didn’t have anywhere to go today, no obligations like a job holding me to a schedule.
Though four in the afternoon was pushing it even for me. I hadn’t eaten a single thing all day. I’d reached a new all-time low where I wallowed in bed and watched TV. This was pathetic for any man. What I needed was to figure out what I was going to do with my life.
Grabbing my computer, I started checking out the list of businesses in town. I doubted anyone was looking for a lawyer, and even if they were, I doubted there would be work for a criminal lawyer in a town this small.
Still, I searched through all the job openings within fifty miles. And then I expanded the search even further. Missoula had some openings. One law firm needed someone to file paperwork.
Another needed a runner.
But no one was hiring a full-time lawyer, which wasn’t a huge surprise. I might just have to send out some applications and see if anyone was interested. I had plenty of experience and a great track record. But the way I left New York…
I closed the window, about to shut the laptop, when an idea struck. It was stupid, really. I’d set up the account a long time ago, but it was probably still active.
It took me twenty minutes just to remember what dating site I used. Then I had to remember my password from eight years ago. Fuck, it took forever. Finally, I got in and grimaced at the picture. I was so much younger then. My hairstyle was floppy, and I dressed like I was fresh out of college.
I changed it immediately, not exactly sure why, other than the fact that that picture did not need to be out there for anyone to see. I went through the requests that had gone unanswered over the years until I got to the most recent.
There were a few decent pictures, but none of them really got me interested. I was still fucking pissed as hell about what happened with Bianca. But I loved her all the same. I had planned to spend my life with her, and look how that had turned out.
Sighing, I was about to close out of the window when my phone rang again.
Bianca.
Fuck, I really wanted to answer it. I wanted to hear her voice and know that she was okay. Before I could think twice, I answered, but that was as far as I got. No words came out. I couldn’t even think of the proper greeting for someone like her.
“Ryder? Are you there?”
I didn’t answer, just closed my eyes and listened. I tried to remember what it was like waking up in bed beside her.
“Please, just talk to me. I know you’re mad, but we can work through this. Mr. Hanson called. He wants you back. We can still fix this, baby. We can still have—”
I hung up as anger surged through me. She didn’t get it. There was nothing to fix. There was no way to make any of it better. She made her choice, and it wasn’t me.
I threw the phone against the wall, not caring in the least when it bounced off and shattered. All of it was falling apart. Every second, every day that I worked my ass off, and it all blew up in my face.
And she didn’t fucking choose me. I couldn’t stop going back to that, the look on her face as she pleaded with me. She didn’t fucking know me at all. That much was clear.
I grabbed the computer and scrolled to the first profile I liked.
Wanna meet?
When?
It should have surprised me that this woman was online, waiting for someone to answer. Then again, I was online and answering back.
Tonight. Do you know The Beaver and Boot?
Yeah, I can meet you there. What time?
Seven.
I closed the laptop and hauled my ass out of bed to shower.
Three hours later, I was pulling up to The Beaver and Boot, rethinking my brilliant idea to put myself out there again. Not for dating, but for sex. I was nowhere near ready to have a relationship, but a good fuck, I could definitely go for.
I needed to wipe the memories from my mind and dull my senses. I was tired of thinking of Bianca, of the clusterfuck I left behind. I just wanted to remind myself that there was still more to life.
The bar was crowded as I stepped inside, making it more difficult to find the woman I was supposed to be meeting. It was a fucking Tuesday night. What the hell was everyone doing out?
I grabbed a stool at the bar beside a blonde woman, waving down the bartender. “Beer.”
“Any particular kind?”
“Whatever,” I muttered, rubbing a hand over my face. This was a fucking horrible idea.
“Um…Josh?”
The voice was directed at me, and when I looked at the woman, she definitely wasn’t the woman from the picture. “Nope, sorry.”
“Oh.” She gave a tight smile and turned back toward the bar. “Sorry about that.”
“Meeting someone?”
“Yeah.” She cleared her throat, fiddling with the gold chain that hung around her neck.
“Yeah, me, too,” I sighed.
“It’s weird. A Tuesday is such a weird day to go on a date. Why not a Friday or Saturday?”
I huffed out a laugh at her thought process. “Tuesdays and Thursdays are the best days for dates.”
The bartender set the drink down and turned to the woman. “Another?”
“I think I’ll hold off. Thanks, JR.”
The man narrowed his eyes at me, then looked at the woman. “This guy bothering you, Ellie?”
“What? No,” she laughed. “We’re just having a friendly conversation.”
“Yeah, just keep it that way,” the man said to me.
“What the fuck did I do?”
“So, why are Tuesdays and Thursdays best for dates?” she asked, turning to face me.
“It’s the work week. Less chance that the date can go on for too long.”
“Too long,” she repeated.
“Yeah, you’re just meeting someone. You don’t want a date on a Friday night when neither of you has to be at work in the morning. That doesn’t give you the excuse to get away if your date is some kind of stalker.”
Her eyes twinkled with humor. “A stalker on a first date?”
“It’s possible. Why do you prefer a Friday night?”
“Well, because that’s date night. I would take a guy more seriously if he asked me out on a Friday.”
“Because there’s an opportunity for the night to last longer,” I smirked.
Her mouth gaped. “But…it’s date night.”
“And you’re telling me that all of your dates are perfect? That there are none you wish wouldn’t last longer?”
She grabbed her drink, only to realize it was empty. The bartender slid another glass in front of her without her asking.
“Thanks,” she smiled.
I had to admit, this woman was gorgeous. Not my normal type, but still beautiful. She had natural curls that kind of went crazy around her face and bright blue eyes that stood out even in the dark. In fact, she sort of reminded me of someone.
“What did you say your name was?”
“Ellie,” she said, holding out her hand.
Ellie. Ellie. Why did that—Oh shit. “Uh…” I cleared my throat, taking her hand. “Ryder.”
Her smile fell instantly and she snatched her hand back. “Oh my God! I didn’t even recognize you.”
“Yeah,” I winced, wishing I could take back the last five minutes and sit beside someone else.
“Ryder Lawson.”
I nodded.
“Ryder Fucking Lawson,” she added.
“Yeah, you don’t have to say it with the fuck in the middle. It’s not my middle name.”
She scoffed, taking a long sip of her wine. “I can’t fucking believe it. I heard you were back, but I didn’t think I’d end up sitting next to you in a bar. What’d you do to end up back here?”
I really didn’t want to talk about why I was back in town. “Look, about when we were kids—”
She barked out a laugh, grabbing her purse. “Yeah, don’t bother.”
“Ellie, seriously, I was a kid.”
“A horrible kid.” She got to her feet to leave, but then turned and glared at me. “A horrible person. You know, when you’re in high school, you’re no longer really a kid.”
“Technically, you are until you’re eighteen.”
“That excuse doesn’t fly with me. You know, you tormented me for years!”
“That was then. I’m actually a pretty decent person now,” I argued.
“I hated you! God!” she nearly screamed, drawing attention from nearly everyone in the bar. “And to think, I was actually drawn into the whole charming Tuesday/Thursday thing. What an idiot.”
“I wasn’t trying to be charming. Honestly, I’m not even sure why I’m here.”
“Am I supposed to ask why? Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Why did you even come home?”
I sighed and finished off my beer. “I think that’s my cue to leave.”
“Don’t bother. I’m going.”
“Yeah? Well, it’s a free country. I can leave if I want to.”
“Not if I leave first!”
“That doesn’t even make sense!”
She turned on her heel and walked out, but I followed, not because I was actually following her, but because everyone in the bar was glaring at me. And when we got outside, we walked in the same fucking direction.
It was awkward.
“Why are you following me? Want to throw a few insults my way?”
“I’m just going to my car.”
She snorted and continued through the parking lot to the back where I had parked. To her Jeep.
That was parked right next to my car.
When I opened my door, she scoffed at me. “Figures you’d drive some pretentious vehicle.”
“It’s just a car,” I snapped.
“A pretentious car for a jerk,” she yelled, getting in her Jeep.
Rolling my eyes, I got in my car and started the engine, waiting for her to pull out because, believe it or not, I was actually a gentleman. But she just sat there, and after a minute, I realized why.
Her Jeep wouldn’t start. Sighing, I got out and walked around to her vehicle, knocking on her window. She rolled down the window, refusing to look at me the whole time.
“What?”
“Car problems?”
“I don’t need your help. I already called for a tow.”
“Do you want me to look at it?”
“Nope.”
Her utter refusal to give me the time of day really grated on my nerves, but I let it go. She had a right to be pissed at me. I was an asshole to her nearly all her life.
“Fine, then I’ll just wait here with you.”
“I don’t need a protector.”
“Call me crazy, but you don’t leave a woman alone in a parking lot. Especially not at the back of a parking lot. What did you park all the way back here for, anyway?”
Her head finally whipped toward me. “I’m sorry, is this your idea of being a nice person?”
“No, this is just me asking some common sense questions.”
“Keep your commentary to yourself. And go away. I don’t need you here as some sort of savior.”
“Yes, clearly, you’re fine on your own.”
She lifted her hand, waving her phone in my face. “See this thing? It makes phone calls and everything. Which is what I did when the vehicle wouldn’t start.”
“And how do you plan on getting home?”
“Well, I could ask for a ride. I could call a cab. Hell, I could walk home.”
“At night? Do you have a death wish?” I snapped.
“I know you’ve been gone for a while, but this town is still pretty safe.”
“Aside from the murderer,” I muttered.
“That was years ago,” she sighed. “Look, can you just leave?”
I leaned against my car, crossing my arms over my chest. “No. You can hate me all you want. I probably deserve it—”
“Probably?” she scoffed.
“Alright, I deserve it, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to leave, only so I can wake up in the morning and hear about how you were butchered in the parking lot after I left.”
“Highly unlikely.”
“Well, I guess I’m just the asshole who wants to bother you, then.”
“I’m glad we see eye to eye on this,” she said, glaring at me.
We were at a standoff, but I wasn’t going anywhere. She might hate me. Hell, I hadn’t seen her in years, but that didn’t mean I was going to leave her alone in the dark. I wasn’t that much of an asshole.
It only took a few more minutes for the tow truck to pull up, and when Wyatt got out and shot me a confused look, I just shrugged.
“Heard you were back,” he said as he walked over. “What’s the problem?”
“It won’t start.”
“Alright, pop the hood.”
She did as he asked, all the while refusing to look at me. When she turned the engine, nothing happened.
He slammed the hood and wiped his hands on a rag. “Alright, I’ll take it back to the shop. You need a ride?”
“Yes.”
“No,” I said at the same time as her. “I’ll give her a ride.”
“Whatever,” he muttered, holding out his hand for the keys.
She let out a frustrated grunt, then rolled up the window and grabbed her things, handing over the keys. “Thanks, Wyatt.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow with an update.”
Then he turned and crowded me against the car, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Do we have a problem?”
“I’m just standing here.”
“You’re bothering her.”
“I’m actually just waiting to make sure she gets home okay.”
“Make sure that’s all it is,” he said, taking a step back. “You sure you don’t need a ride?”
“No, it’s fine. Thanks.”
He nodded and got to work hitching up her Jeep. In the meantime, she stood awkwardly next to me, refusing to look at me.
“I really am just trying to help you out.”
“I know,” she sighed. “It just makes me hate you even more.”
I smirked, opening the door for her once Wyatt towed away her Jeep. “You can hate me all the way to your house, and then rant about me when you get inside.”
She was halfway in the car when she turned and raised an eyebrow at me. “It’s funny that you think I would think of you after I got inside. You’re not that memorable.”
“Clearly.”
I shut the door and walked around to my side. I wasn’t sure why I was putting myself through the torture for a woman who clearly hated me. But as I dropped her off and waved goodbye, something lifted in my chest when she flipped me off.
All in all, it wasn’t a terrible night.