Chapter Seven
When Ryder woke onSaturday, it was late afternoon, as usual. He decided to spend some time reviewing his finances, since he had his eye on a property with a craftsman-style house that needed some work done. The previous owners were renting it out, and the tenant had left the place with a lot to be desired. They were looking to dump it and get out from the money pit they'd created. Ryder thought he could afford it, but he wanted to double check his budget for the coming months before making an offer.
It had always been his dream to build things by hand. His father had been a carpenter, and he saw it as an honest day’s work, something solid and reliable. That suited Ryder’s nature perfectly. His plan was to settle down once he had a house; finally allowing himself to date once he had the master bedroom and the kitchen mostly completed. He didn’t want to drag a woman through renovations, assuming they wouldn’t like the noise and dust and chaos. That was the part Ryder thrived on, organizing the chaos into something that made sense and had order. Creating something from within himself and having it last forever. That was his control in a world that made no sense to a young man whose parents had been taken from him senselessly.
When it came time for his shift at the bar, he was relieved to see Cooper working. He needed someone to talk to, desperately.
"Hey, Ryder." Cooper grinned. "How you been?"
Ryder shook his head. "Confused."
"Wait, really?" Coop worked on cutting lime wedges. "Why's that?"
Ryder pulled out a box of stir sticks. "Have you met Hannah's cousin?"
"No, but I've heard she's over at Trois Femmes. Is she hot?"
Ryder felt his cheeks flame. "Um, yeah."
Cooper faked wiping away a tear. "My boy is all grown up."
Shoving his shoulder, Ryder moved to the sink. "But she's a pain in the ass. She flaunts her wealth every time she opens her mouth. She can’t really hold a conversation, like small talk is beneath her."
"You're complaining about having a sugar mama?"
Ryder rolled his eyes. "We haven't slept together, though she wants to. She keeps putting her hands on me. It's kind of weird."
"I don't know what the problem is, dude. She's horny and rich."
"You know what my rule is," Ryder muttered.
Pausing, Coop looked at his friend. "Okay, as much as I'd love to make fun of you for your rules, I know how important they are to you."
"She could ruin everything."
Cooper pulled out a jar of maraschino cherries. "Or she could be your dream come true."
Snorting, Ryder said, "Not likely, given the way she acts."
"Being a reformed manwhore, all I can say is don't judge her for who she's done in her past."
"I think her past is what haunts her," Ryder murmured. "Maybe she's too broken to be put back together."
"I don't believe that about anybody." Cooper slapped Ryder on the back. "If she needs help, I can already tell you'll be the one to give it to her. You're too kind to turn your back."
Morgan did need help, that was the problem. She needed therapy; someone more qualified than Ryder. Still, he understood Cooper's point. "Thanks, man."
The evening passed uneventfully. Ryder performed a few sets in the later hours, feeling a sense of freedom that only came from the stage. He collapsed into bed that night, still confused but less worried about what he'd do.
Something itched at the back of his neck when he woke the following morning. Restless, he showered and thought about going to the diner for breakfast.
A knock on his door startled him. Heart thundering in his chest, he pushed himself off the loveseat and lunged for the door, yanking it open in irrational anticipation. All he saw was a flash of brown silky hair before Morgan launched herself at him. He caught her, holding her tightly as her legs wrapped around his waist. She kissed him; first his jaw, then across his face to his mouth, groaning breathlessly.
Ryder was absolutely not thinking straight as he kissed her back, letting his tongue tangle with hers, gripping her firm ass to keep her body molded to his. He knew his erection must be pressing into her, but figured she didn’t mind. Her body was like a furnace, heat radiating from everywhere as their teeth bumped.
“Bed,” she gasped, or maybe he was the one who gasped as her hand snuck between them to cup him where he bulged in his jeans.
Thoughtlessly, he backed up and kicked at the door, moving in the general direction of his tiny bedroom and hoping the door had closed behind her. They fell together to the mattress, and her body writhed like a snake over his, pushing and pulling at his clothes, licking and biting and kissing his abs as she moved his shirt up. He threaded his hands in her hair as she unzipped his pants.
