Torn (Summer In Winter) Page 5

  "Let's hope so," Kate muttered.

  Beth adjusted my bra straps at my shoulders and my breasts jiggled. "If not, then you'll make him squirm when he gets a look at these."

  We went downstairs and found Ben with Gran in the drawing room. He should have looked out of place in his paint-splattered clothes, surrounded by the old Victorian furniture, but he didn't. He looked like he belonged.

  "Hi, ladies," he said, rising. His gaze instantly flew to Kate's and they smiled at one another in that way lovers did. It was a smile I was yet to share with anyone.

  Kate put her arm around his waist and he kissed the top of her head. "I made a pot of tea," he said. "There's enough for everyone."

  Beth gave me a hug. "I've got to go. Good luck, Sweetie."

  "What do you need luck for?" Gran asked after Beth had left.

  "Nothing," I said. "It's just a thing she likes to say instead of goodbye." Utter nonsense, but Gran seemed to believe it.

  Ben looked me up and down. "You look nice. Going somewhere special?"

  Kate ever-so-casually stepped on his toe. He winced and mouthed What?

  I wasn't prepared to tell either Ben or Gran about Ryder's strange behavior. Gran might not even believe me anyway. She'd always loved Ryder. And I had a feeling Ben would get protective, and I wasn't ready for that. I'd never had a brother or cousin before, never needed a protective male. In fact, Ryder used to be the one who stood up for me when necessary. I wasn't sure what would happen if Ben found out Ryder had spoken a few nasty words to me, so it was better if he was kept in the dark for now. Besides, I was sure this mood of Ryder's would blow over once whatever was wrong with him was aired.

  "I'm heading over to the Cavanagh house to speak to Mr. C," I told them. "I won't be gone long."

  "Ask him why his son hasn't been to pay his respects," Gran said, stamping her cane on the floor. "It's not like him."

  "He's injured, isn't he?" Ben asked.

  "Apparently," I said, not looking at him.

  Kate cleared her throat. "Come on, let's get back to painting."

  A mocking smile teased Ben's lips. "How about I get back to painting, and you start painting."

  She caught his hand. "Ha, ha, funny guy."

  "You need anything, Gran?" I asked.

  "I'll be fine." She picked up her book. "Go and speak to Ryder Cavanagh. Tell him he's most welcome in our house any time. That goes for his father too. I do like the Cavanaghs. They're good people."

  I sighed and left, surprised to see Ben and Kate waiting for me in the hallway outside.

  "Jane, why not speak to her now?" Ben whispered. "It won't take long. Just plant the idea of the B&B in her head with a few hints."

  "That'll give her time to think about it," Kate said.

  "Not yet," I whispered. "I need to catch her in a better mood."

  "She's in the best mood I've ever seen her!"

  "Later. I can't think about anything else except seeing Mr. Cavanagh right now."

  I heard her sigh as I opened the front door and left. I refused to wear the high heels the girls had wanted me to strap on and instead wore a lower wedge sandal. They were still inappropriate for navigating the overgrown path to the Cavanagh house and climbing the gate. It was lucky no one was around because I would have given them a nice view of my girl parts when I lifted my leg over. I landed awkwardly and hissed in pain as my ankle rolled. That would never have happened if I'd been wearing trainers. Served me right for listening to the city girls.

  Beth and Kate were more city than country now. They didn't understand what it was like to want to live in a small town. They were both heading back to college in the fall, and seemed to think I should be pitied because I wasn't, or because they would go on to become career women and I was going to keep working at Hearth & Home. They just didn't get that I wanted different things than them.

  I tested my ankle and it felt strong enough to walk on, so I followed the path up to the house. I couldn't see Mr. Cavanagh on the roof, so I circled the perimeter, hoping he was outside somewhere. He wasn't. Ryder was. He sat on a chair on the back porch, his legs stretched out and his feet up on another chair opposite. His eyes were closed and his hands linked on his stomach. His bare stomach. He wore no shirt, just a pair of cargo shorts.

  He hadn't seen me, thank goodness. I bit my bottom lip and backed away on tiptoes.

  He must have had some kind of sixth sense because I didn't make a sound, yet he opened his eyes. Heat flared in them as his gaze settled on me. Or more specifically, settled on my breasts. My spine tingled and the hairs on my arms rose. There was desire in that gaze, hot and unmistakable. For me.

  Heat crept up my throat, over my face to my hairline.

  His face reddened too, then he snorted and looked away. "That's the best you can do?" He stood suddenly and I was given the full and very impressive view of a half-naked Ryder Cavanagh. It was hard not to be distracted by the muscles in his shoulders and abs, honed to perfection from playing football at an elite level for years.

  Much later, as I lay in my own bed, I wondered if he knew the effect his body would have on me, and whether he'd deliberately stood at that moment to prove to me that no matter how hard I tried with clothes and makeup, he was still far above me.

  But for now, I struggled to keep some composure. I didn't do very well, but at least he was no longer watching me with any intensity.

  "So you haven't got the hint yet," he said. "Haven't you learned from our last two meetings that I don't want to see you?"

  I'd thought his words couldn't hurt me anymore, but I was wrong. They were like bullets straight through my heart. I rocked back on my heels with the force of them and winced at the pain in my ankle.

  He turned away sharply and rubbed his temple as if trying to scrub away a headache.

  "I, uh, I…" I bit my wobbly lip.

  "Go on, spit it out," he snapped.

  I swallowed. I had to keep talking, despite wanting to turn and run. No matter what, I couldn't let this Ryder win and scare me away, just in case the other Ryder was still there somewhere and needed me. "I came to see your dad."

  "Why?"

  "I…want to speak to him."

  "About what?"

  "Um…"

  "Christ, Jane. You used to be smart. Seems like that dead-end job has sucked out your brain cells. You should have gone off to college like the rest of them instead of staying in this crappy place."

  Damn him. Why was he doing this to me? I felt like I was falling from a plane without a parachute. I'd never sparred with Ryder like this, never had heated words with him. It was unnatural, wrong, and I wasn't going to let him get away with it. He could disparage me, but he couldn't disparage my town. "I happen to like Winter."

  "Good for you. You and Winter are suited to one another."

  "What does that mean?"

  "Figure it out."

  I already had. He meant I was boring. I guess I was compared to the girls he met as the star college footballer.

  "Dad's not here. I'd ask you to wait around, but I'm busy."

  "So I see. You know, your dad could have used some help on the roof yesterday."

  He grunted a hard laugh. "If I have to take a break, then I'm going to damn well do nothing."

  Have to take a break? He'd been forced to leave the team? He should have been doing light training over summer with the rest of the players, but instead he was back home, uninjured. Something was definitely going on.

  "Why are you here?" I asked.

  "We can't afford Hawaii."

  "I mean—"

  "I know what you mean." He said nothing more, and I let it go. His arms were folded high on his chest, and the muscles ridging his stomach flexed and relaxed. He was all barely contained energy, like he needed to go for a run to release some of it. I needed to keep him talking so he wouldn't leave.

  "If you're not injured then you can help your dad out. He's not young anymore, and he shouldn't be up on the roof without a har
ness."

  "Then he shouldn't go up. Simple as that. There's no point anyway."

  "Why not? He seems to think there is."

  "Everything's falling apart."

  "So fix it."

  "It can't be fixed!"

  "Sure it can. There's nothing structurally wrong with this place. All it needs is some tidying up and it'll be livable again."

  He shook his head and looked up to the porch roof. "Dad thinks this place can be let out when we go back."

  "And you don't?"

  "We're not going back."

  My breath caught in my chest. "Why not?"

  He merely shook his head again. Something had definitely happened between him and the team. Something serious enough for the college to send him home.

  "Are you back for good?" I asked.

  "Not me, and Dad seems to think we'll be returning to the city soon."

  "But—"

  "Jane, if you've come here to lecture me, you can turn around and leave."

  "And if I haven't?"

  "Leave anyway."

  "No. I'm waiting for your dad." I pushed past him and sat on one of the chairs. My stubborn Merriweather streak didn't get a showing too often, but when it did, I could match Gran.

  I crossed my arms and legs. Ryder's lids half-closed, but I could see his gaze slip to my breasts. Too late I realized that crossing my arms had made my biggest assets push up and out. I blushed—again—and rested my hands in my lap.

  Ryder turned and leaned on the porch rail. The muscles across his back and shoulders tensed. I got a nice view of his behind too, clad in denim shorts. Oh hell, my hormones picked some bad timing to get started.

  "Why are you here?" he said quietly. "Why do you insist on pushing me and pushing me?"

  The ache in his voice threw me off balance. I was prepared to continue arguing with him, but he'd dodged me as easily as he dodged an opposition player on the field. That hint of sadness in his voice had softened my heart and stolen the words from my mouth. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, tell him that he could talk to me, that I was here for him, believed in him. But I didn't. I had learned a lesson from our last two meetings—Ryder knew how to hurt me and it was very likely that he still would.

  "Because you're better than this, Ryder," I said instead.

  "Am I?" His sneer came through loud and clear.

  "Yes." I stood, but hung back. "You seem to be forgetting that I know you better than I know myself. I know you're a good guy. I don't get why you're acting like this, but I will find out and I will help you fix it."

  He spun round. His mouth was a twisted gash, his eyes flashed. "Are you still really this fucking naive, Jane? You can't fix anything. You don't even know what happened!"

  "Then tell me."

  He simply leaned back against the porch rail again and crossed his arms. He said nothing, just glared at me, daring me to challenge him.

  I went against my instincts and let him have it. "This isn't you, Ryder, and nothing you can say will convince me that you've suddenly become an asshole in three years." I turned and strode off inside. I thought he hadn't followed me, but when I reached the kitchen he wasn't far behind.

  "What are you doing?" he asked.

  "Making myself a cup of coffee. Want one?"

  "Who the hell said you could come in and make yourself at home?"

  "I've always wandered into this house without knocking, just like you've always done it at my place."

  "You can't anymore. Things have changed."

  "No kidding," I muttered.

  He huffed out a sigh. "Fine, whatever. You can stay until Dad gets back, but no more lectures and don't tell me about all the boring things the people of Winter have gotten up to."

  "Okay. We don't have to talk at all if you don't want to."

  It felt like a win, albeit a small one. He didn't leave the kitchen, but he didn't sit down either. He stood behind me as I made myself a coffee. I could feel his gaze on my butt and I cringed at how it must look in the thin, floaty skirt Beth had made me wear. She said it accentuated my curves, which I think just meant she couldn't disguise the size of my ass so why not just play it up.

  The silence stretched, taut and thin, but I refused to be the one to break it. I could wait. Turned out, I didn't have to wait long. When I turned around, coffee mug in hand, he was staring at me from where he stood near the door. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed in what I was beginning to think was his pose ninety percent of the time.

  "Why are you dressed like that?" he said.

  True to form, my face heated again. "I have to go to work later," I lied. "This is what I wear." I sipped to hide my face behind my mug.

  "Bullshit. I know you, Jane Merriweather, and I know you wouldn't wear a top like that unless you were trying to show off your body. That skirt's shorter than anything you usually wear too. So what gives? Is that how your boyfriend expects you to dress?"

  Damn, I'd forgotten about the lie Kate had told. I sipped as I tried to decide whether to tell him the truth or not. He was going to find out eventually and that would only make me feel even smaller. On the other hand, if he kept to the house, maybe he wouldn't find out.

  "Maybe I dress like this for me. Why does it have to be for someone?"

  He clicked his tongue. "It doesn't suit you."

  "Oh." I looked down at myself. I thought I'd looked quite good, but then I hadn't seen myself from the rear. Maybe my butt really was huge. "What does suit me?"

  "Not that. It makes you look desperate."

  I bit the inside of my lip and tasted blood. He knew exactly why I'd dressed that way. I wished I hadn't let the girls talk me into changing. I would have been much happier in my old knee-length denim skirt and T-shirt.

  He clicked his tongue again. "Wear whatever the hell you want. It's not going to make me want to fuck you any more than I—" He swallowed the rest of the sentence and I was left wondering what he'd been about to say.

  'Anymore than I already wanted to?' A girl could hope, couldn't she? No way could it have been that. The only thing Ryder wanted from me was to hear the words 'I'm leaving'. He was doing a good job of trying to get me to say them too, but he had to do better than petty insults.

  "You're not making it easy for me," I said.

  His head jerked up. His mouth opened and closed. "To do what?" he whispered.

  "To stand up for you. Everyone says you've changed irrevocably, but I think something is wrong and that you can change back."

  His nostrils flared. A muscle in his jaw tensed. He pushed off from the wall and came up to me, stopping mere inches away. Tension vibrated off him in waves. "What do you want from me? Thanks? A fucking medal?"

  I lifted my chin and met his gaze. It was tough staring into the eyes that had once looked back at me with tenderness, but were now filled with anger. There was something else in them too, something so deep as to be almost invisible. Desire.

  My heart somersaulted. Everything was all so crazy. Nothing was as it should be, and I was so confused. I just wanted the old Ryder back. I knew where I stood with that guy. This one shook up all my emotions until they were a tangled, indecipherable mess.

  "I don't want anything." My voice was barely a whisper. I clasped my coffee mug tighter against my chest. "I just want you to know that I'm not going anywhere."

  "You think you're being loyal, Jane?"

  I lifted one shoulder. I wasn't sure how to answer that. Maybe he didn't want an answer. His eyes suddenly glazed over and shifted to my breasts. My top was cut in a V, exposing way more flesh than I wanted to. I shouldn't have worn it.

  On the other hand, having Ryder look at me that way sent a thrill through me. No matter how he was behaving, I still wanted him. Nothing could ever take that away, no matter how long we both lived, or how cruel he was to me.

  "Think you can be loyal no matter what, do you?"

  I didn't understand what he meant. My brain had scrambled the moment he came within my space.
He pried the mug out of my hands and placed it on the bench. I needed to hold onto something so I gripped the bench at my back. Too late I realized it threw my breasts out.

  His gaze turned smoky. He bent down and brushed his lips along my exposed flesh. They were warm and soft, sending tiny tingles washing over every inch of me, even my scalp. My blood raced through my veins and my heart pounded so hard he must have felt it. His tongue licked the deep valley between my breasts, tasting, teasing. I arched my back, wanting more of that tongue. Everywhere.

  I'd never let anyone touch me like that before, even though guys had tried. I'd always pushed them away. But not Ryder. This was what I'd been waiting for. This was meant to happen. And it felt so very, very good.

  His hand came up to cup one breast, his thumb teasing the nipple through my bra and top. It pebbled at his touch and a responding pulse throbbed between my thighs. Heat consumed me inch by inch as his mouth traveled up to my throat. He licked my earlobe and kissed the edge of my jaw. As if that didn't send my hormones into enough of a crazy dance, he dipped his finger down my top, inside my bra.

  I sucked in air and tightened my grip on the bench. If I hadn't, I might have floated away on the wave of sensations swamping me. I squeezed my eyes shut, not daring to open them and wake up from this blissful dream. I wanted to take Ryder's face in my hands and direct him to kiss my lips, but I didn't dare. I wouldn't risk shattering this moment.

  He gently rubbed my nipple with his palm, cupping my breast, holding it in his hand as if it were something precious. I thought I'd be scared to be touched so intimately, but I wasn't. Ryder made me feel cherished, wanted, and utterly beautiful. Where his words had been sharp and aimed to hurt, his kisses and touch were a balm, soothing. The contrast was too complicated for me to untangle so I didn't try. I just felt.

  And what I felt was love.

  I did take his face in my hands then. I lifted his lips to mine and he kissed me. It was just like I remembered from prom night. Sweet and intoxicating. Heady and blissful.