>SM>@rangerryder: Fixing up this historic tower. Thanks @bethdorsey. Hurry back. Need my carpenter’s assistant.
She rested against her pillows, still smiling. A post like this said I like you. But she already knew that, didn’t she?
For a second, she was in his arms on Angelo’s dance floor, swaying to Frank Sinatra. Ryder held her so close, stirring wild and wonderful feelings.
And now she was awake. Energized. And a bit scared. Elizabeth hopped off the bed and headed downstairs, finding Mom in her office, reading emails.
“I can’t fall in love. Ever.”
Mom looked up, removing her glasses. “That’s rather drastic. Never? Also, your dad went to pick up dinner. Barbecue. He’ll be back in a few.”
“Mom, I have a kissing disease, and I’ve never been kissed.” Elizabeth paced around the office. “If I kiss anyone, they could get the virus. I can’t do that to a man like Ryder.”
Mom sat back with a sigh. “Then just be honest. Let him decide. And I’m still mad at your roommate for not telling you she was infectious.”
“She didn’t know. But I do. So how does it go? I just walk up to Ryder and tell him ‘No kissing, buddy’? Or do I wait until he’s almost about to kiss me, then tell him?” Elizabeth leaned over Mom’s glass and steel desk. “I can’t do it. I know how Epstein–Barr feels and?—”
“Right, well…” Mom seemed to fish for a plausible argument. “Dr. Roth said most people already have some sort of mono or Epstein–Barr virus. They just never activate. And you’re not infectious right now. You may never be again.”
“But I could be. And Dad would tear your argument to shreds in court.”
“So you’re resigned to never falling in love?”
“Yes. Final answer. For the health and well-being of Ryder or whoever comes my way.”
If God wanted her to fall in love, then He’d have to step up and make it happen. Heal her or something. And Elizabeth didn’t have that kind of faith.
This was a week of data collecting, doing surveys, interviewing fishermen about the fishing and resources and, in the quiet, wondering what had happened with Elizabeth last Saturday night when they’d dined at Angelo’s again.
Ryder had dated enough to know when the vibe was right with someone, and he’d never experienced a vibe like the one he had with Elizabeth.
They talked so honestly. They danced in rhythm. They looked into each other’s eyes. She rested her hand against his chest. He set his cheek on her dark, curly hair.
Then she jetted off to Boston, answering his text with emojis until Wednesday evening, when she said the doctor had cleared her for any active Epstein–Barr antibodies.
Elizabeth
He said I have to be careful. Staying in Boston until next week. Mom wants me tucked in bed by nine. Ha!
Since then, she’d gone radio silent. He didn’t want to bother her, but man, if this didn’t feel like his childhood all over again. Which wasn’t fair to Elizabeth, but he was Ryder Donovan, after all, and people left him behind.
He knew better than to get attached to her. But she made him want to believe in every Buck Mathews love song.
Saturday morning, he rose early to work on the fire tower. So far, he’d avoided any more of Travis’s tirades.
To be fair, the higher-ups were pressuring him to find the men cutting down valued and ancient trees. And to clean up his budget issues. Like the cherry and teak purchases.
Grabbing his tools from the back of his truck, Ryder cut the pine boards and started rebuilding the third set of stairs. He snapped a picture and texted it to Elizabeth.
>>>Ryder: Wish you were here.
A car door slammed behind him, and Matt Dorsey headed his way. “Morning, Ryder.”
“Pops Dorsey. What brings you out here?”
“I heard you needed some help. Woodworking is my specialty.”
“Elizabeth?”
