After the completely bored-looking woman rings up our order, I grab Ryder’s debit card back and scribble his signature.
“Thanks,” he says, his face tight.
“No problem,” I reassure him, wishing I could be more help as I put his card back in his wallet.
I follow Ryder to his truck, not sure if he’ll want my help getting the kids settled. I don’t really know what to do. The entire morning has been off. And not just because the kids were fussy. I think, honestly, part of what’s off is me.
I am interested in this guy. I like the patient way he talks to his daughter, the way he seems as helpless as I feel to ease her discomfort. He never once yelled or snapped. He is upbeat, positive, and involved. Nothing like the men I’ve known. Nothing like the last man who couldn’t even be bothered to text me back even after everything that happened between us.
There’s no doubt I’m starting to like Ryder already. But that just makes me feel all the worse. I don’t know where or how I could fit into his life. The kids are a lot. I’m a lot. I am sure all of that combined will be too much for him. I’ve been too much for so many people, and those were people who weren’t trying to raise two little ones alone.
Out in the crowded parking lot, I pull my sunglasses from my bag and give him a small wave as I turn to head toward my car.
“Gracie,” Ryder calls, his voice finally sounding strained. “Can you wait a second?”
His cheeks are bright red from the heat and the exertion of juggling the kids. But his eyes search my face with a look so hopeful, it breaks my heart.
“Yeah. Do you want a hand?”
He shakes his head. “Just give me a sec.”
I shift my weight from one foot to the other and fan the summer air, heavy with humidity.
Once he’s fastened Cora and Luke into their child safety seats, Ryder pulls out his phone and plays a loud video. Some cartoon I’ve never heard of with a catchy beat on the device, which he hands to Luke. Then he leaves both rear doors open to keep the air flowing into the car.
Then he turns to me, reaches for my hand, and steps close to me.
“I am so sorry,” he says. “This is nothing like what I’d hoped today would be. I want to make this up to you, Grace,” he says. “I probably should have canceled this morning, but I really…”
He stops and leans closer. I can smell the heat mixing with the faint fragrance of his cologne.
“I just really wanted to see you,” he says, his chocolate-brown eyes meeting mine. “I’m sorry if that was selfish.”
I smile and shake my head, gripping his hand tighter. “It’s fine,” I say.
But to be honest, I’m not sure what more to say. Getting close to a guy like this is complicated, and not just because he has kids. Because he’s everything I want. Because he has everything I’ve ever wanted.
Seeing what I want and getting it are two entirely different things. Just feeling how much this man draws me in makes me all the more certain I need to pull away before one of us gets hurt.
I stroke the light dusting of hair on his knuckles with one hand. “I hope Cora feels better,” I say. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Gracie.” Ryder’s voice saying my name feels as intimate as a kiss. As caring. As insistent. It’s like he can read the doubts as if they are written all over my face. “You don’t have todoanything. I just want time with you. Time to get to know you. But if this is too much…” His grasp loosens on my hands, but instinctively I hold him tighter. “It doesn’t make you a bad person.” He waves toward the car, where the music from the video fills the air. “This isn’t for everybody. I get that.”
“It’s not too much,” I assure him, but I’m lying. “It’s not about you or the kids. I just…I don’t know what to do here. I’m not sure I fit or how to help.”
“You fit because I want you to fit,” he says, his eyes narrowing and his lips parting. “Come to dinner tonight. My place. We can watch a movie and talk after I get the kids to bed.”
I shake my head. “I can’t. I have dinner at my parents’ tonight.”
Ryder looks down at our hands. He laces his fingers through mine. “Do you want to see me again?” His voice is low, rocky. “Ever?”
I don’t answer right away, even though I know that I do. I wish I didn’t. I wish I could stop myself from leaning into something that I know can only lead to heartache.
I try to talk myself out of this. I hardly know him. Now is the time to shut things down. Walk away and chalk this up to a funny chance encounter. I clamp my lips shut, try to stop the words from coming out. And I almost do it. I almost release his hands, head straight to my car, and leave all this behind.
But then he lifts his eyes to mine. He grins, and it’s the cutest, sweetest, most endearing look he gives me as he mouths the words. “Please, Grace. Give me one more chance.”
The gesture steals the air from my lungs. My eyes flutter closed, and all I feel is a rush of desire, of longing, flooding my limbs. He is sexy, sweet, powerful, and gentle all at once. I wish I were strong enough to run right now, but I’m not. I can’t.
