"It's only temporary," she says. "After the six weeks are up, I'll take Bryan back home. I'll figure something out after that. Do we have a deal?"
"Deal."
Six weeks with Cleo in my home? It sounded like the closest to heaven that a bastard like me would ever get.
5
Cleo
Iwas still miffed at Ryker for the little power play that he'd pulled in the hospital, but as I step into his large, two-story home in the heart of uptown Spade territory, I can't help but be grateful he did it.
My tiny two-bedroom home on Pine looks like a shack compared to Ryker's house. The slate gray siding and wide windows give it a serious, stately air that most buildings in South Hollen's lack. I cradle Bryan close to my chest as we ascend the stairs, shushing the squirming infant as we made our way inside. I'm still bone-weary after my labor, and I'm overcome by a sense of relief that I'll have someone to trade shifts with. Ryker had been invaluable during my stay in the hospital.
I settle onto his sectional, rocking Bryan. He ate in the car, so this is just routine fussiness on his part.
"Give me just a few minutes," Ryker soothes, eyes locking on Bryan with concern. "I just need to grab some things out of the car."
We'd swung by my place to grab the bassinet and some supplies for Bryan before making our way uptown. I nod to him with a small smile. Ryker's concern warmed a silly part of me, though I tried to tamp down on it. It wasn't like he was mine.
"Go ahead. We'll be fine."
My eyes scan the living room as he leaves. I guess being an EMT must pay better than bartending, along with all the other club activities that brought in money. Or maybe his parents had just been better off than mine. The flat screen that hung on the toffee-colored wall was twice the size of my tiny model. The plush armchairs pushed along one wall look like they could swallow me whole. And the whole place is just soclean.My flat couch is covered in dog hair and the place has seen little tidying up since I got too big to see my toes. I feel like a shameful stain sitting in the middle of perfection.
When Ryker returns, he's clutching the parts to my bassinet and balancing several boxes on one arm. He sets them down beside the couch and plucks a tool bag from the hall closet before returning. At least one box contains my clothes while the rest contain a baby swing, a rocker, and a boatload of diapers and bottles.
"I think I'll set up the bassinet first," he muses. "That way you can set Bryan down. You look dead on your feet, Cleo."
"Thanks," I drawl. "You know just how to boost a girl's confidence."
Uncertainty flits across his face for a second before he mumbles an: "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way."
I sigh. "No, I'm sorry. I'm just being a bitch. You can't trust a word out of my mouth for a few months. Hormones, you know."
Some of the worry lifts off his face and he nods. "For what it's worth, you still look like a million bucks to me, Cleo. No matter how tired you are."
My cheeks heat, and I'm grateful he's turned his attention back to the bassinet, because I could about kiss him for that comment. I ceased to feel attractive once I'd gained more than the recommended thirty-five pounds for pregnancy. I grip my baby a little tighter, chiding myself for the thought.
Not yours, not yours, not yours,I remind myself. Eden's probably pissy as it is. No need to be making eyes at her boyfriend.
Ryker sets to work, and for the life of me, I can't drag my eyes off of him. He's still cladded in his work shirt and the riding jacket with its club insignia. Even beneath the fabric, I can spy rippling muscle working as he sets up the bassinet. I just can't believe that I'm here, in this gorgeous house with an Adonis-like man working to make my life easier. This sort of good luck never fell into my lap.
I was used to my life being shit. My parents died in a drunk driving accident when I was four, leaving only my aunt to tend to me. Said Aunt had made my life hell until I moved out at eighteen. Jobless, with no life skills, I probably would have become a hooker if not for the intervention of Cruz's sister, Penny, who'd gotten me a place to stay, food to eat, and a job to pay my bills. Things had looked up.
Until Damian.
That is always the crux of things, isn't it? Everything always leads back to the six months of terror I'd spent in Damian's grimy apartment, wondering when the next blow was coming. I didn't know, even now, why I never told a soul. Maybe some small part that my aunt cultivated inside me thought I deserved what I got. Maybe I was ashamed of my weakness.
And then Cruz pulled me out of the mess and put me back on my feet again. I'd fallen in love with the rough biker, pining after him. But his eyes slid past me, always looking for the next girl. The next conquest. I'd embraced that it was his nature. No one could pin him down. And then Holly Madden had stepped in and changed everything.
Months ago, Holly had been forced into labor as the bartender at Rapture. A spitfire of a girl with a life twice as terrible as mine, she'd breezed into all of our lives and changed everything forever. I should hate her for stealing Cruz and putting us all in danger by helping kill Damian.
But I couldn't. It's my damn fault for chasing after taken men. First Cruz, now Ryker. I need to get a handle on myself before I break my heart. Again.
Ryker pauses in his work to glance up at me. "You okay, Cleo? You look preoccupied."
"I'm just tired," I lie, forcing a smile onto my lips. It reeks of insincerity, and for half a second I'm sure he'll call me on it. Then he shrugs and smiles.
"Maybe you should hand Bryan off to me. I've got the bassinet set up. You've earned your rest."
