“Merc—”
“It’s Alice.”
“Not to me.”
He stops in front of an all-black Bentley, unlocking the doors with the key fob. God, he really doesn’t fit in here. It pisses me off. Everything I’ve done to stay under the radar and keep to myself, and he swoops in with a spotlight. The whole town will be buzzing about this, which is the last thing I need.
“I’m parked over there.” I point toward my beat-up Toyota Prius.
He shakes his head. “You’re coming with me.”
Standing my ground because I can already tell he’s here to steamroll anything I have to say, I cross my arms over my chestand dig my heels into the gravelly pavement. “You can follow me, but I’m taking my own damn car.”
“You are never driving that piece of shit again,” he declares in his commanding growl.
This side of him is nothing new. It’s just not normally directed at me. But I have countless recollections to draw from of how this type of standoff went down with his younger siblings, specifically his little sister, Rena.
I fling my focus around, worried we’re already making a scene. No one is paying any attention to us, but maybe I need to ensure we keep it that way. “Fine. I’ll come with you. Nelly can bring me back to get my car in the morning.”
The glint in his icy blues makes it clear he still wants to argue, but he lets it go.
He opens the passenger door for me, only to pause, as though he’s having second thoughts. Pushing it shut, he wraps his arms around me, his mammoth limbs swallowing my frame, his warmth and scent and presence engulfing me.
“Just one minute before we fight.” He buries his face in my hair, breathing me in, and his chest shudders.
It’s like all the pain of the past seeps into my bones. But the comfort that used to be mine does too. So, I loop my arms around his waist and melt into him. My eyes burn with the realization that I haven’t had anyone embrace me like this in … I don’t even know how long.
Definitely not since I left. I’m always the one doing the holding, the rocking, the consoling. Keeping everything together.
As if Ryker can sense my heart-wrenching bewilderment, he palms my head, keeping my face nestled against his steel pecs. No words. Just peace, solace, hope.
Safety and protection.
Coming home.
He clutches me tighter and kisses my hair, and an unbidden whimper escapes me. He always knows what I need.
This isn’t a hug. It’s a revival.
What is he doing to me?
And, fuck, did he always smell this good? Like seduction, leather, and depravity with a hint of cloves. Cozy corruption.
The whiff of everything that lies behind one of his secret doors is waking up forbidden fantasies.
That’s my angry libido talking. I dangled skydiving in front of her and never jumped. Yes, I’m aware skydiving isn’t actually code for anything sexual, but I’m working it in. And I do think there’s something close. Anyway, of course there’s some confusion. She’s on the hunt for a thrill.
But this is Ryker. My best-friend Ryker. Pissed-off Ryker.
I can’t think of Ryker like this. He’s … more.
And with that, reality smacks me in the face, along with the aroma of fried foods wafting over to us, so I break our connection. “Let’s just go.”
That hug will cause as much of a gossip frenzy as us bickering.
His eyes coast over me, so much hurt swimming in them. But he chokes it back, tucks me into the car, and snaps my buckle, like I’m a child. Then he gets in and takes off.
For three grueling minutes, he doesn’t speak. He needs to find his words. He won’t like what I have to say if I start this conversation.
