The Good Ones Page 10

  Without another word, Perry spun on her heel and left the room.

  Savannah stood, glanced between Maisy and Ryder, and said, “I’ll go chaperone the selections.”

  “Thank you,” Ryder said at the same time Maisy said, “Good idea.”

  Savannah darted out of the room after Perry.

  Unsure of where to look, Maisy began to gather the popcorn bowls and pizza plates. Ryder moved to help her and she waved him off. “I’ve got it.”

  He ignored her and began gathering the dishes, too. He followed her to the little kitchen. Maisy could feel him studying the side of her face, but she didn’t know if he wanted to talk or if he was trying to gauge her reaction to Perry’s outburst.

  They moved silently. Maisy filled up the sink and began to wash the dishes, as the small kitchenette didn’t have a dishwasher. She cleaned the plates but before she could put them in the drying rack, Ryder took them and began to wipe them dry with a dishcloth. It was an oddly domestic situation to find herself in. Maisy had never lived with any of her boyfriends and she wondered if this was what married life had been like for Ryder. Had he and his wife done the dishes together while talking about their daughter? She didn’t like the image of that in her brain.

  “So, I’m not married,” he said.

  “I know,” she said. “Perry actually told us earlier tonight.”

  “She did? Interesting. She’s never outed me before.”

  “I suppose she felt Savannah and I were trustworthy.”

  “Huh.” He looked embarrassed, but Maisy didn’t feel bad about it.

  She was too preoccupied with the news that Ryder’s ex was an actress. Maisy found this fascinating. The likelihood of finding information about her online was high and she knew she would never be able to resist the impulse to do some online stalking. Still, more information would help. Only half hating herself, she went there.

  “So, your wife is an actress?” she asked. “Was she in anything I would have seen?”

  “Ex-wife and, yes, she was on a show,” he said. “It was a network comedy called Mother Knows Best. Naturally, it was about a single mother bungling her way through raising two boys who are known for their mischief. The irony was not lost on Perry.”

  “Sounds familiar. It only lasted one season?” Maisy asked.

  “Yeah, which I’ve never understood because the ratings were high,” Ryder said. “I think something must have happened behind the scenes, but Whitney refused to talk about it.”

  Whitney! And now Maisy had her name and her show. The temptation to pull out her phone and see who this woman was who left Ryder and Perry for an acting career was almost more than she could stand. She stayed the course.

  “It must have been hard for you and Perry to be on your own,” Maisy said.

  “No harder than it was for Whitney when I was working construction all day and going to school all night for my architecture degree. Our marriage didn’t end because she wanted to pursue her career,” he said. “It was her shot and I was happy for her to take it because she’d stood by me when I took mine.”

  Maisy studied his face. His expression looked 100 percent sincere. “Okay, this is totally none of my business. Let’s just blame it on my lack of understanding of personal boundaries.”

  A small smile curved his lips. “Okay.”

  He draped the dish towel over his shoulder and propped a hip against the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest and studied her with his bright-blue gaze. For a second, he reminded Maisy of a bird, waiting on a picnicker to drop a crumb. Well, she had a whole fistful.

  “Why do you still wear your wedding ring?” she asked.

  “Because I am not interested in a relationship,” he said.

  Ouch! She hadn’t been prepared for that level of honesty. It seemed there was a little more to it than Perry’s belief that it was to ward off interested women.

  “Because you’re still in love with your wife?” she asked. She dropped the sponge and grabbed a towel to dry her hands. She mimicked his stance with her hip propped and her arms crossed and her gaze fastened right on the collar of his shirt.

  “No, because I am lousy at relationships, any relationships,” he said. “I will mess it up every time. Sharing feelings, intimacy, these are not my gifts.” Maisy raised her eyebrows, and he looked chagrined. “Not physical intimacy—I’ve got that—it’s emotional intimacy I’m not very good at it. In fact, I am really really bad at it.”

  “You could just tell people that,” she said. She was feeling prickly and irritated with him for letting her think he was married when he wasn’t. “It’s not like every woman you meet is out to bag you like a trophy.”

  He blew out a sigh. “See? Look how annoyed you are. You’ve only known me for a few days, and I’ve already ticked you off, and I wasn’t even trying. Just imagine if we were dating. Relationships are not my thing and wearing the ring is an easy way to let people know I’m unavailable and hopefully keep anyone from getting hurt.”

  “You know not every woman is looking for a relationship.” Maisy tipped her chin up. “There are women who prefer their relationships to be fleeting.”

  “In all my thirty-five years, I have never met that woman,” he said. He glanced at her from under his lashes. It was a charming look. Maisy refused to be charmed. She still had questions.

  “If you supported your ex pursuing her career, then why did you divorce?” she asked.

  He dropped his arms. He put his hand on the back of his neck and met her gaze. “You don’t pull any punches, do you?”

  “When you’re as petite as I am,” she said, “you can’t afford to.”

  “All right,” he said. “The truth is we were never really suited. She was studying drama at college in Austin, and I was working construction. We met tailgating at a football game and had some laughs. I was twenty-one and she was nineteen. She was easy on the eyes and I was young enough and dumb enough to like having a hot girl on the back of my motorcycle. We dated for about three months and it was already ending when she discovered she was pregnant.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh,” he said. “She told me the news and I asked her to marry me right then and there.”

  “Really?” Maisy wasn’t really surprised. Ryder seemed the sort to take his responsibilities seriously.

  “Amazingly enough she said yes,” he said. “To this day I am not sure why, since she’d told me she never planned to marry or have kids, but I think the reality of her condition and my willingness to give it a try tipped the scale in that direction, and we were married in Vegas two weeks later.”

  “Wow,” Maisy said. Of all the stories she had expected this was not a version she could have imagined. “That leap into maturity must have given you whiplash.”

  “Pretty much,” he said. “From the moment the doctor put Perry in my arms, and she stared up at me from her puffy-eyed, red, wrinkled-up face, I knew it was the right decision.”

  Maisy sighed. Given that she lived her life riddled in self-doubt with a pinch of anxiety, she envied him the certainty of that moment in his life. Having seen him and Perry together, she had to agree. “You and Perry seem very close.”

  “We used to be, but lately—” He let the words hang. Maisy suspected there were volumes in the unfinished sentence. Maisy had a million questions but she didn’t know how to articulate them without coming across as a busybody. She hoped if she was silent he might offer up more information. But he didn’t. Instead, he turned it on her.

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “What about me?”

  “What’s your relationship status?” he asked. “Since I’ve spilled my guts, it’s only fair to know a little bit about your life.”

  “You met my ex,” she said. “He was the last in a string of losers.”

  Ryder studied her, his gaze mo
ving over her features and her body. It was not the look of architect to client. It was man to woman, as if he was aware of her on the most elemental level and he was intrigued. It made Maisy’s heart flutter and her skin heat up. She could feel the answering pull, the longing, the desire, bubble up inside of her, making her susceptible to his charm, lured by his masculinity. Frankly, she was warm for his form.

  “Long or short?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “The string of losers?” he clarified. His smile was a slash of white teeth in the dimly lit room. “Was it a long string or a short string?”

  She smiled. She tipped her chin and arched her brows, staring him down through her glasses. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  “Yes, I would,” he said. He moved closer. Maisy didn’t back away. This was flirting on a scale she’d never managed before. It made her giddy with her feminine power, a brand-new feeling for her. And she liked it.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Well, if it’s a long string, I’m guessing you haven’t met the right guy yet,” he said. He reached out with one hand and ran his fingers gently down her arm as if he couldn’t resist touching her. Maisy shivered but she wasn’t cold. He began to trace small patterns on the back of her hand with the pads of his fingers, watching her reaction to his touch as he spoke. “And if it’s a short string, then I’m guessing someone broke your heart and you want to avoid that again.”

  “Is that what happened to you?” she asked. The words came out breathy. Given that she was barely breathing at the feel of his fingers on her skin, it was the best she could do.

  “No.” He shook his head. “You have to have a heart for it to be broken.”

  It was a warning shot. Maisy knew that. He was telling her he was damaged. He was giving her a chance to run, to shut this down, to save herself. Any man who said he didn’t have a heart was not a man she should consider in a romantic light. She knew this. And yet, she couldn’t back away. Not even if her heart depended upon it.

  “It was a long string,” she said. “But with only a few knots in it.”

  His smile when it appeared was wicked. Maisy had never been on the receiving end of such a smile. It made her feel drunk and bold and oh-so reckless.

  “What sort of knots?” he asked.

  “No marriages, if that’s what you mean,” she said.

  “And?”

  “No fiancés,” she added. “No brushes with matrimony of any kind.”

  She studied his face. If he thought anything about this revelation, he was darn good at keeping it in check. Now she wished she hadn’t shared quite so much.

  “But if I had been married or engaged before,” she began, pausing to take a breath before plowing forward into vulnerable territory, “I wouldn’t keep wearing my wedding band, letting people think I am taken or that I am still emotionally involved with my past. And I wouldn’t assume that every person I meet is interested in a long-term relationship because quite possibly they aren’t.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Ryder looked at her left hand. Then he looked at his own. Without saying a word, he slipped the wedding band off his ring finger and dropped it onto the counter.

  Chapter Twelve

  WHEN his gaze met hers, Maisy sucked in a breath. It was like being caught in a sudden storm when the sky turned dark and the lightning flashed blue and the wind whipped at her hair and clothes while the smell of rain on the air was a promise. Ryder was letting her know in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t pining for anyone. Well, then.

  Maisy wasn’t sure who leaned into whom. One minute there was a reasonable space between them and the next his hand was on her hip, holding her in place while he moved in close. Maisy rose up on her toes to meet him, wanting him to know that she was 100 percent a participant and not a sidelined spectator.

  His gaze was locked on hers as if making sure he was reading her right. Oh, he was. Maisy curled her fingers into her palms to keep from latching on to him like a stripper on a pole. A small smile tipped the corner of his mouth and there was a sexy twinkle in his eye. He was a mere breath away. With deliberate care, he reached up and took off her glasses, placing them on the counter beside his ring.

  Maisy swallowed. It went down hard. Her heart was thumping so hard in her chest she felt as if it were trying to punch through to reach his.

  Then his mouth was on hers and it was everything. Like the strike of a match sparking a flame, the feel of his lips against hers lit a wick of desire in her belly. Maisy pressed herself closer and Ryder slid his hand to her back, holding her in place.

  His lips were warm as they molded to hers, sipping, tasting, opening hers so that he could go deeper, taste more, drink her in as if she was something precious and rare. Maisy let him in without hesitation. She ran her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, latching on to him as if he was her safe spot in the storm instead of the one causing the chaos inside of her.

  Ryder anchored her with one hand on the small of her back while the other cupped her head, her curls twining about his fingers as if to keep him there, while he eased out of the kiss so that he could run his lips along her jaw and down the column of her throat.

  Something between a moan and a sigh slipped out of Maisy and she felt his mouth curve into a smile against her skin. The thought of kissing him had flitted through her mind for days but the reality, oh, dear God, she had simply not been prepared for this.

  “Ryder.” She whispered his name, uncertain if she was begging for more or pleading for mercy. She suspected it was one and the same.

  “Maisy.” His voice was husky and deep, muffled against the curve of her neck and shoulder, where he gently bit her skin, making her knees buckle. If he hadn’t been holding her, she was sure she would have spilled onto the floor like a pot boiling over.

  He lifted his head and pressed his forehead to hers. His blue gaze was molten when it met hers and he said, “You’re driving me crazy—”

  Beep beep beep!

  Ryder’s phone sounded in his pocket. And just like that they were thrust out of their passionate embrace and back into the reality of the moment. They stepped away from each other, wobbly and unsure, as if trying to get their bearings on land after months at sea. At least it felt like that to Maisy.

  She snatched up her glasses and pushed them up onto her nose, then grabbed a dish towel and began to scrub at a nonexistent stain on the old wooden counter. Ryder retrieved his ring and shoved it into his pocket while answering his phone.

  “Copeland here,” he barked.

  “Rescue one,” Savannah cried.

  She was loud enough that Maisy could hear her. Savy didn’t sound like she was kidding. Maisy snatched the phone from Ryder’s hand.

  “Savy, what’s wrong? Why are you calling Ryder?”

  “I’m on Perry’s phone because I don’t have mine and I don’t know your number. We’re downstairs on the front porch, and we have a situation,” Savy said.

  “What do you mean, ‘a situation’?” Maisy looked at Ryder with wide eyes. He started moving toward the door and she followed.

  “Just get down here,” Savannah said, and she ended the call.

  “They’re on the front porch,” she said.

  Ryder broke into a run and Maisy fell in right behind him.

  They jogged around the piles of books, down one flight of stairs and then the next. They crossed the foyer but before Ryder could yank the door open, Maisy grabbed his arm and slowed him down.

  “Whatever is going on, let’s not make the situation worse by charging out there,” she whispered.

  “You’re right,” Ryder said.

  He stealthily turned the knob and pulled the door open. Maisy peered around his side and saw Savannah and Perry crouched down behind a pile of boxes, looking at something on the other side. M
aisy braced herself for a bear or a rabid raccoon. It was neither.

  “What’s going on?” Ryder whispered as he crept forward and knelt down behind his daughter.

  “Look,” Perry said. She lifted her phone, which had its flashlight feature on, and shined it on the floor of the porch on the other side of the boxes.

  A little blob was on the porch. Maisy frowned. She had just swept the porch that afternoon. Was it a big leaf? A rogue sock? What? While she watched, a tiny face rolled up from the blob and blinked against the light. It was a teeny tiny kitten.

  “Oh, my God.” She shot to her feet and went to circle the boxes to grab the little baby. Ryder caught her by the elbow and gently held her still.

  “If you pick it up and get your scent on it, its mother will reject it,” he said. He let her go and scooted closer to his daughter. “Any sign of mama cat or other kittens?”

  “No, we’ve been watching but it’s just this little guy,” Perry said. She moved the light off the kitten and its head drooped back down. “I think it’s been abandoned. It looks cold and hungry.”

  “I think so, too,” Savannah said. “I don’t know much about cats, as I’m more of a non-animal person, but I don’t think leaving the little one out in the open like this is normal. Wouldn’t a mama cat hide her babies if she’s going to go forage for food?”

  “Agreed,” Ryder said. “I’ll take a walk around the property and see if I see the mother cat or any kittens in the area.”

  He slipped off the porch and out into the night.

  The three women waited, huddled behind the boxes, watching the tiny kitten, who wasn’t moving. Maisy started to get a bad feeling about the whole thing. What if the kitten died while they did nothing? What if he was injured or sick? She started to fret when Ryder reappeared.

  “There’s no sign of any other cats in the yard,” he said.

  “So we can take it inside?” Perry asked.

  “I don’t know. If she comes back, it would be a shame to take the kitten from its mother. Let’s watch from inside for a little while. If she doesn’t come back soon, we’ll have to step in and help it.”