Chapter 48 Louise
LOUISE
As expected, I led the small talk as Ryder slowly sipped his drink, only speaking when being directly addressed. I noticed his gaze raking over everything the crew touched. All those germs. I was worried he was going to have a coronary right there in the kitchen.
The liquor had done its trick. Margie’s voice had reached a high-pitch range, Miles wouldn’t shut up about catfish the size of Volkswagens rumored to be in the local lake, and even Austin said more than a few words.
Meanwhile, I was working double-time to ease the tension and awkwardness.
“Well, guys, are you hungry?” I asked.
“Yes!” Margie dramatically slapped her hand over her stomach.
I glanced at Ryder, again giving him the opportunity to play host. When he didn’t, I took over (again) and opened the fridge.
“Oh my God.” Margie pushed up from the chair and gawked as she made her way across the kitchen. “That’s the biggest fridge I’ve ever seen.”
“Is that a subzero?” Miles asked.
Ryder nodded.
Everyone except Ryder gathered around the fridge.
Margie wrinkled her nose at the stacks of Tupperware. “What is this stuff?”
All heads turned to Ryder.
“Food.”
“Ryder likes to eat organic,” I said.
“Why?”
“Uh…”
On an exasperated groan, Ryder pushed past me and grabbed a container from the fridge. “Burgers okay?”
“Sounds great.”
“Works for me.”
He turned, stumbling into Miles.
“Sorry.”
Margie stepped back.
“Ow,” Austin grunted as she stepped on his toe.
“Sorry.”
Ryder exhaled deeply as he set the meat on the counter. When he grabbed a few tomatoes, I grabbed a head of lettuce and set it on the counter next to him.
The chatter picked up, settling into a lively debate about the validity of the supposed benefits of organic food.
Ryder disappeared into the pantry. A few seconds passed, so I started preparing the ground beef—no doubt locally raised and butchered.
A minute passed. Then another minute.
I washed my hands, and after ensuring no one was looking, slipped into the pantry. Ryder’s back was to me, his palms braced against the shelves, his head bowed in misery.
“Hey.” I quietly closed the door behind me.
He looked over his shoulder and dropped his hands from the shelves.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’m really sorry.”
He shook his head. “No. It’s fine.”
“I didn’t invite them out here. I promise.”
“I know you didn’t.” He raised his palms. “It’s okay. And even if you did, it’s okay. It has to be okay.”
“You don’t seem okay.”
He let out a long sigh, shoulders slumping under the weight of it all. For the first time, Ryder looked truly exhausted—bone-deep, soul-weary tired.
“No, it’s fine,” he said quietly. “It’s just… everything Roman and Mack told me about the boot print, and now this—unexpected company—it’s a lot to process. God, Lou…” He dragged a hand through his hair, voice cracking. “I’m so damn messed up. I know I am. And I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, and I can handle this, Ryder. The second boot print, maybe not, but this unexpected company? I can handle for both of us.”
“Really?”
I smiled, closing the short distance between us. “I can make small talk with the best of them. Don’t necessarily like it, but I can do it.”
“You don’t like small talk?”
“No one likes small talk. But sometimes, Ryder, it’s a part of being human.”
His expression softened, his hands finding my waist and jerking me to him. Goose bumps prickled my skin.
“Thank you, Lou.”
“I like it when you call me Lou.”
“I like you, Lou.”
We laughed. He kissed my nose.
“Okay, I’ve got this,” I said, giving myself a manly thump on the chest. “You go for a walk. Go ride your horses. Even better, go take a relaxing bubble bath in that glorious copper tub. I have a feeling I’m the only one who’s ever used it.
Or go lock yourself in the library and read a romantic suspense—”
His lips quirked. “No. I’ll stay. Thank you.”
He wrapped me in his arms and kissed me. This kiss wasn’t as desperate and frantic as the ones before. Instead, it was soft and sensual, melting me from the inside out.
Laughter broke out in the kitchen.
I pulled back and glanced over my shoulder. “Someone’s about to come in here.”
“Let them.” He turned my face back toward his and went in for another kiss.
“No.” I laughed, swatting him away. “Come on. Or don’t. Like I said, I’ve got this.”
“Do you know how to make burgers?”
“Ryder,” I deadpanned. “Have you seen these thighs?”
He grabbed my ass, sending a zing up my spine. “I’d like to get a closer look. Maybe throw on those blue sweatpants, or take them off. Either way.”
“How much have you had to drink, young man?”
“Not nearly enough to make it through this night.”
“Oh, the horrors of socializing,” I mocked. “However will you survive?”
“I’ve got you.” He winked.
Smiling big, I said, “Okay, come on. Let me handle everything. You go drink your rich-kid Scotch—”
“It’s whiskey.”
“What?”
“It’s not Scotch. It’s whiskey.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Don’t. I can’t.”
Laughing, I pulled Mr. Antisocial out of his comfort zone and into the laughter. He followed me, for a change, across the kitchen to the stove.
As promised, I carried the conversation for both of us while Ryder picked up where I left off on the burgers. He didn’t leave, as I’d suggested. Instead, we cooked together, side by side, exchanging glances, grins, and a few ass pinches.
Comfortable.
Just him and me.