The Good Ones Page 27

  Ryder walked up the steps and Maisy heard a scramble of footsteps behind her in the house, indicating that her friends were aware that something big was happening. Sure enough, the door flew open and Jeri trotted past as if someone had set her behind on fire.

  “Look at the time,” Jeri called. “Gotta go!”

  The woman cackled as she climbed into her minivan, which was parked on the street in front of the house. With a honk and a squeal of tires she was gone. Maisy turned toward the open front door and saw Savannah standing there.

  “What has gotten into her?” she asked.

  Savy shrugged and opened her mouth in the fakest fake yawn Maisy had ever seen, contorting her face into all sorts of shapes while stretching her arms up over her head.

  “Lord-a-mercy, I am tired,” she said.

  “You’re from New York. Why do you suddenly sound like Scarlett O’Hara?” Maisy asked.

  “Sorry, no time to chat, off to bed, where I’ll be in my room, watching TV really loudly in case anyone needs the rest of the house to themselves,” Savy said. She stepped into the house and shut the door behind her.

  Maisy spread her arms wide and asked, “Was it something I said?”

  Ryder snagged one of her hands in his and pulled her over to the newly installed porch swing. Maisy sat down on the padded seat and Ryder put Perry’s flowers on the side table before he sat beside her. He pushed off the floor with his foot and they began to rock back and forth.

  Ryder lifted his arm and said, “Come here.”

  Maisy knew it was useless to resist. She scooted over and tucked herself under his arm, resting her head on his shoulder. It was fully dark now. The neighborhood was quiet. Against the night sky, Maisy could see bats swooping low to catch bugs while fireflies flickered against the thick hedges that separated her lawn from the neighbors’.

  “So, do I need to stand on the front porch with music playing while holding a bouquet of flowers to get you to give us another shot?” he asked. “Because I can do that. I could also stand there with pie, or ice cream, or an entire sheet cake.”

  Maisy laughed at the thought of him holding an enormous sheet cake. He’d do it, too, she had no doubt. What was she supposed to do? Deny herself the time she had left with him to preserve her heart? Wasn’t she pretty wrecked already? And that was just at the idea that he and Perry were leaving.

  “What kind of sheet cake?” she asked. After all, she didn’t want to appear to be easy.

  “Vanilla cake with chocolate icing,” he said. “With tons of frosting roses on it.”

  “What color are the roses?” She tipped her head up to see his face.

  “Any color you want,” he said. “Pink, purple, blue.”

  “How about orange roses, like a sunset?” she asked. “And let’s flip the cake so it’s chocolate cake and vanilla icing.”

  “Keep it up and I’m going to have to leave,” he said. “Now all I can think about is cake.”

  “I think I can help with that,” she said. She stopped the swing with her feet and stood, pulling Ryder up to his feet with one hand and grabbing Perry’s roses with the other. She led him through the house to the first-floor kitchen. It had been their main food station as Savannah served up sweet tea, lemonade, and coffee all day.

  In the middle of the afternoon, food had begun to arrive from several of the local eateries to celebrate the opening of the bookstore. Big Bottom Donuts sent a couple dozen of their finest, Pie in the Sky pie shop sent three pies, and Conniption Cakes, the local cake bakery, sent over an enormous sheet cake. Maisy had been too busy to eat any earlier but now it was like a worm in her head.

  All of the food was in containers in the large refrigerator and she opened it and gestured for Ryder to peek inside. Every shelf was full of food.

  “It’s like we hit the mother lode,” he said. He gave a low whistle and Maisy nodded.

  “What’s your poison?” she asked. They stood side by side, staring at the contents of the fridge. “Coconut cream pie, red velvet donuts, or my personal fave, sheet cake, although the roses are purple instead of orange—”

  That was as far as she got before he leaned down and kissed her. It wasn’t a nice kiss. He backed her up into the open refrigerator and kissed her with a single-mindedness that took her breath away. The cold hit her back while his warmth engulfed her front. The kiss was hot and heavy, full of longing and ripe with want. And then he stepped back, letting go of her and raising his hands as if she held a gun on him.

  “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he said. “I know you said that wasn’t supposed to happen again. It’s just . . . standing next to you . . . I can’t . . . you are what I want.”

  The fierce light in his bright-blue eyes hit her with an intensity Maisy had never felt before. He wanted her. Him. This knuckle-dragging cowboy architect who was so full of heart, who loved his daughter so much he would sacrifice his own happiness for her, who read Austen to a stray kitten, who read romances just so he could communicate with his teenager who was shutting him out, and who was building her a freaking turret. Him, he was standing there, wanting her.

  “I want you, too.”

  Maisy slammed the refrigerator door shut and grabbed the front of Ryder’s shirt and pulled him close. She rose up on her toes and twined her arms about his neck. She wanted him, all of him, and she wanted him right now. She planted her mouth on his and he responded by looping his arm around her back and hauling her in close.

  With one arm, Ryder swept everything off the kitchen counter. Plastic cups and paper plates and a basket full of plastic utensils landed with a crash and neither of them cared. Ryder hoisted her up onto the counter and moved to stand between her legs. They fit perfectly together and Maisy reached for his T-shirt. She grabbed the hem and helped pull it over his head.

  He had a builder’s body, lean but ripped with muscles, callused hands that rubbed deliciously against her skin as he moved his palms up her calves, to her thighs, nudging them apart so he could get even closer. He pulled her tight against him, and Maisy felt her head go fuzzy. She realized she had never known desire like this. Ryder was even more compelling than a piece of cake, and that was saying something.

  It hit her then that this crazy ass-over-teakettle feeling of wanting to be with him all the time, to see him every day, to joke with him, to touch him and hug him and worry about his daughter with him, all of it, was what the romance authors wrote about. It was love, it was being in love. She could try and avoid it or deny it, but the truth was Maisy was a romantic all the way to the core, and she had loved Ryder Copeland from the first moment she’d opened the door to him and there was no taking it back or changing it. It just was.

  And if she could have him only right now, for these brief few weeks that their lives would intersect, then wasn’t it worth it to have it all? Just as she’d said to Perry about Cooper—wasn’t it worth the risk to see if it was real or not? Could she really ask less of herself than she did of a fourteen-year-old? No, she couldn’t.

  Ryder must have felt the same way because his hands were everywhere while his mouth remembered all of the sensitive spots he’d found before. He lingered just below her ear. He moved his mouth down the side of her neck. He pulled her blouse and bra down, letting his mouth linger on her curves while Maisy arched into his touch, straining to get closer as if she couldn’t get enough unless they were actually fused together.

  “Are you sure?” Ryder asked. His voice was a rough growl that made the heat pool in between her legs.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Positive.”

  He needed no more invitation. One hand moved up her leg, where his thumb brushed over her underwear in a soft circular motion over the hypersensitive spot nestled there. It felt as if he’d pulled a trigger as a crazy lust-filled Maisy wriggled out of her skirt and blouse while at the same time yanking at his clothes. In moments, they were both bare-
assed naked and Maisy laughed, loving him and the freedom of being with him.

  “This is crazy, right?” she asked.

  “Utter madness,” he agreed.

  Maisy cupped his face and said, “I’m on birth control and have a clean bill of health. You?”

  “Totally clean,” he said. “Too busy doing the dad thing to get busy, if you know what I mean.”

  In answer Maisy licked her way from his collarbone up to his ear, where she whispered, “Well, then, what are you waiting for?”

  “Now you’ve done it,” he said.

  He grabbed her hips, and in one slow, pointed thrust, they were joined. It was glorious, beautiful, and loving. Exquisite feelings of anticipation and joy throbbed through Maisy, robbing her of speech and thought. As they slid together and apart, ripples of sensation coursed through her and she touched and kissed and caressed every part of Ryder that she could reach until every single nerve inside of her drew taut and she arched her back as the delicious spasms rocked through her entire body from head to toe.

  Ryder was right there with her. Just as she began to relax, he hauled her up close and tight and she felt him stiffen as his own orgasm poured into her. He didn’t let her go. Instead, he kissed her hair and her face and nuzzled her neck as if he could stay here forever. She knew the feeling. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him close as their skin cooled and their heart rates slowed.

  “I need to tell you something,” she said. He pulled back just enough to see her face. Maisy knew it was too soon, but she felt like she had to get it out now before she lost her nerve.

  “I hope it’s praise,” he said. “Because, truly, that was the most singular sexual encounter of my life.”

  Maisy laughed. She cupped his face in her hands and stared into his eyes. “Me, too, and I just have to tell you that I love you.”

  He glanced away. He turned his head and kissed her palm. His words were soft when he said, “Thank you. That means more than I can say.”

  “You don’t have to say it back,” she said. “I get it if you’re not ready, but I want you to know how I feel. I love you, I’m in love with you, and nothing is going to change that.”

  “Maisy, I . . .” His voice trailed off as he leaned in and kissed her. It was the gentlest of kisses and it wrecked her, positively wrecked her.

  He kissed her face, her nose, her cheeks, her ears. He ran his hands over her shoulders and down her arms until his fingers were laced with hers. He moved his mouth over every part of her body, worshipping her as she had imagined him doing during all of the lonely nights in her bed since she’d met him.

  When Ryder nudged her back down on the counter, she surrendered to his loving assault upon her person and smiled. Maybe he wasn’t ready to declare his feelings. That was okay. For this moment in time, he was hers, and she was going to make certain he knew it all the way down to his toes.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  RYDER was destroyed. She had ruined him. Not just for tonight, but for the rest of his life and for any other woman ever. For as long as he lived, he would never forget the sight of Maisy, arching in front of him, lost in a swirl of erotic pleasure that he had given her. He had done that. To her. It straight up blew his mind, and he wanted to do it again and again and again.

  And he would have if she hadn’t turned the tables on him. She owned him and not just by how masterfully she’d wrangled his rod. It was her pet now; he was pretty sure. His cock was going to sit, stay, or get hard on her command and her command alone. He was 100 percent fine with that. But his feelings for her were a separate issue, and he was not fine that he had just avoided telling her how he felt about her. She deserved to know how he felt. It was just three little words, but he couldn’t choke them out. Damn it.

  He knew he’d used sex to distract her and while she had seemingly appreciated his efforts, he couldn’t assume that she could decipher his actions into words. Had he actually said “thank you” when she told him she loved him? What the fuck was wrong with him?

  In the aftermath of their second go-round, Ryder had wrapped himself around Maisy like a bear hugging a tree and now he slowly untangled himself from her to find that they hadn’t been magically transported to some other realm, even though it certainly felt like they had, but were in fact standing butt naked in her kitchen.

  He grabbed his T-shirt off the floor and pulled it over her head. Her glasses got tangled and he gently righted them on her face while pulling her rebellious curls free of the collar. The shirt came to midthigh on her and if he had it his way, she’d wear just that forever. He searched around for his boxers but couldn’t find them, so he hauled on his jeans instead, being extra careful with the zipper.

  “I don’t know about you but I am starved,” Maisy said.

  She dodged around him and opened the fridge. In the time it took him to run his hand over his face in an effort to get his wits about him, she had hauled cake, pie, and donuts over to the table for what looked like a marathon dessert session. She was returning with a glass pitcher of sweet tea and two glasses when he caught her around the waist. He gently took the stacked glasses and put them on the table and then the pitcher.

  He spun her around so they were facing each other and said, “Whoa, steady there, sweetheart, are you all right?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” she asked. She waved her hand at the counter where they’d just been and said, “Do you even have to ask?”

  “Yeah, I do,” he said. “Because you’re moving at the speed of light and I’m having a hard time tracking you.”

  “Sorry. I just really need to eat some cake right now.”

  “Understood,” he said. He let her go and reached into a drawer and grabbed two forks. “Are we bothering with plates?”

  “No.” She wiggled her fingers and he put one of the forks in her hand.

  Maisy slid onto one of the chairs and Ryder took the seat beside her. He grabbed her chair by the arm and pulled it across the floor so it was up against his. He found he didn’t want her too far out of reach.

  Then he glanced at the table in front of him. He didn’t know where to start but suddenly he, too, was starving. Maisy glanced at him. It was a sly look just over the dark frame of her glasses.

  Then she grinned.

  “I’m going in,” she said.

  He watched as she went for the cake. It was a ridiculously girly confection. Pink icing with purple roses and a wide white banner that looked like it had said Congratulations! at one time but now just said tions! as all the other letters had been eaten.

  The cake was a chocolate-vanilla swirl and he had to admit he was impressed when he saw how much cake Maisy could shove in her mouth in one go. A glob of frosting landed on her upper lip, but she must have felt it because she licked it off with her tongue. Guh.

  Hunger made him stop staring at her and focus on the food. He could see that the pie was caramel apple, a weakness of his, so he tucked into the remaining quarter of pie, letting the tart apples, tangy cinnamon, and sweet caramel topping melt in his mouth. He was pretty sure this was the best pie he had ever had, and yeah, maybe it was the postcoital glow making it seem that way but it was still really good pie. It took him a moment to realize Maisy was staring at him.

  Shoving one more bite into his mouth, he turned to face her. He did a quick three chews and swallowed it down. It went down hard.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You went for the pie first,” she said. She shook her head as if in disbelief.

  “Was that wrong?” he asked. “Is there some snack etiquette I don’t know about in regards to what comes first, pie or cake or donuts?”

  “Not precisely,” she said. She bit her lip. Concern furrowed her brow. “I’m just afraid of what it might mean.”

  “I’m not following,” he said. But then he caught the glint in her eye. She was teasi
ng him. He was swamped with a feeling of acute relief. If she was teasing him then surely she wasn’t upset that he hadn’t said I love you back.

  She tossed her curls and closed her eyes for a moment as if bracing herself. Then she slowly opened her eyes and met his gaze. “I just think it’s best if you tell me now.”

  “Tell you what?” he asked. He tucked his smile into his cheek at her overly dramatic tone. If she wanted to play, he was okay with that.

  “That you are one of those people who does birthday pie instead of cake,” she said. She waved her fork at him. “I can overlook a lot of stuff—chronic lateness, forgetting anniversaries, an inability to follow directions—but pie over cake on a birthday is not one of them. If you’re going to be my boyfriend, you have to change your ways. This is not negotiable.”

  “Boyfriend, huh?” Ryder asked. He was pleased that he sounded so cool, because inside he was doing a fist bump and a high five and quite possibly a cartwheel.

  “Yes,” she said. “I simply cannot have a birthday pie–eating boyfriend.”

  There was a flash of vulnerability that made him want to scoop her up and hold her close. So even though he hadn’t professed his love for her, she had invited him to be her guy. He would grab on to that and hold it tight with both hands until he figured out a way to let her know how he felt about her. There had to be a way.

  “Well, I suppose it depends on what flavor the cake is,” he said. He reached past her and scooped up a dollop of pink icing on the edge of the cake plate. Then he dabbed her on the end of her nose. Her eyes went wide behind her glasses and he laughed. Then he kissed her nose, catching all of the frosting.

  “That’s pretty good,” he said. He licked his lips. Her eyes dilated while she watched him and he knew they were about to get pervy with the pink cake and he wanted to howl at the moon he was so ready.

  She swabbed some icing with her fingers and slid them across his lips. He caught the frosting with his tongue and she shivered. She then leaned close to lick the remaining frosting off his lips and Ryder was pretty sure he was going to have a heart attack.