"Hello?"
"Morgan? It's Ryder."
Her heart throbbed in her throat. "Ryder?"
"Cooper said you wanted me to have your number. Do you want to come over? To my new place?"
"I really do." She exhaled heavily. "I'm downtown, on Borden. Where do I go?"
She listened to his directions, realizing he wasn't that far. In less than ten minutes, she stood outside a dilapidated house on Cottonwood Street. The front porch was freshly sanded and stained, and Ryder sat in a bright blue swing.
"Welcome to my house," he said, rising to greet her.
Morgan couldn't decide if she wanted to put her hands in her pockets or cross her arms over her chest. A prickle of uncertainty ran across the base of her spine. She wouldn't have another chance if she fucked this up.
"You wanna come in?"
"If you want me to."
"Yeah, come on." He led the way to the front door, opening it and standing aside. "This place was trashed before I bought it, so I'll have to apologize in advance for the mess."
There was stuff stacked everywhere. Wood, tools, boxes, and paint cans.
She fingered the bristles of a paintbrush. "Have you been spending all your time doing this?"
"Yes. I heard you came looking for me."
"Um, yeah." Taking a deep breath, she faced away from him. "So I could apologize for what I did."
"You don't need to."
She whirled. "But I—"
"Did nothing wrong." He moved closer to her, tucking his hands behind his back.
"I forced myself on you."
"You really didn't. I never stopped you. I didn't say the word no. I was overwhelmed, surprised, but I enjoyed it."
"You're just saying that because you're too nice to tell me I was inappropriate."
"Maybe you're just not used to being respected by a man."
She snorted. "Well, that's the truth."
"Why don't we start over? We can sit down and have a conversation about ourselves."
"I'm not sure where to begin," Morgan said.
"How about at the beginning?" he prodded gently.
"You're right."
Ryder gestured to the kitchen, and Morgan followed him. It was bright, with newly installed white cabinets and a little table by the window. They sat across from each other.
"The beginning would be my parents meeting, falling in love. Thomas works in textiles, and Betty is a designer. They met when she went to his showroom to pick fabrics for a new line. Apparently it was a whirlwind affair, love at first sight, spending all their time together, blah, blah, blah. I was an accident. Betty never wanted children—she told me they slowed down a woman's career—but her mother would have disowned her if she even contemplated an abortion. I owe my life to my grandmother, who was one of the few people who ever showed me love and kindness before she passed. I had au pairs, tutors, and bodyguards, but not parents."
"That sounds rough."
