His arrogant smile infuriates me, and I push off the wall, urging my out-of-control hormones to quiet down. “I wanted the old Ryder. The boy who was sweet and caring and considerate. That boy would never have railroaded me like this or disregarded my feelings.”
His shoulders slump, and he sighs, kicking the side of my case with his foot. After a few seconds, he lifts his head up and pins me with an earnest look. “I’m sorry if I’m going about this all wrong. I just want you back in my life. Is that so hard to believe?”
A piercing pain glides across my chest. “I just … look, can we not do this? Can we just try and keep this professional, because I honestly can’t do it if you’re going to push me at every opportunity.”
“Is there someone else?” he quietly asks. “Is that it?”
I shake my head. “There isn’t anyone else. I just want this to be about the work, and all the other stuff is going to get in the way. You have an album to record, and I’m tasked with documenting the whole process. And there are other people to consider. The last thing I want to do is to disrupt things with the band, and if we keep doing this, that’s exactly what’ll happen.”
He nods. “You’re right, and I’m being an ass again. Forgive me?” He offers me his hand.
“That remains to be seen,” I say, refusing his hand and walking toward the front door.
* * *
“Do you always travel like this?”I ask, once I’m situated in the back of the limo with a glass of champagne in my hand.
“Sometimes,” Ryder acknowledges. He’s sitting across from me with Garrett, and Micah is sitting beside me. They’d already explained that Scott is making his way there separately as he’s bringing his wife and baby along.
“Our boy’s going all out to impress you,” Garrett elaborates with a suggestive wink.
“Shut up.” Ryder sends him a warning glare, which he surprisingly obeys.
There’s a moment of tense silence before Ryder breaks it, filling the guys in on his encounter with my flirty neighbor, including how she kissed him and tried to grab his cock.
“You’re kidding. No way.” I shake my head, giggling at that revelation, silently high-fiving Mrs. Peabody. The guys tease him mercilessly, and it helps lift the tension in the air.
“I’m not lying. That woman scared me.”
“That’s priceless, but I shouldn’t be surprised. Some of the stuff that woman’s done would even make you blush, Rock Star.”
“How long have you known her?” Ryder leans back, stabbing me with that intense focus of his, and I subtly squeeze my thighs together, absorbing his heated look as physically as if it was a caress.
“I met her shortly after I moved into the building. She’d locked herself out of her apartment, and she was sobbing in the hallway because she’d left her cell inside, and she couldn’t remember her daughter’s number. I called the super, and we got the door unlocked. She was still upset so I helped her inside. The place was a mess, and I was concerned.” I take a sip of my champagne, recalling our first meeting. “I called her daughter and discovered she was in the hospital with stage four lung cancer. Long story short, her daughter passed away a few weeks later, and I just started checking in on Louise to make sure she was okay, and we became friends.”
I hold out my glass to Micah for a top up. “She’s had an interesting but tragic life. She was an actress before she met her husband and they moved overseas. When he was killed in a car accident, she moved back to the States with her daughter. She doesn’t have any other family, and her health is declining, so I check in on her every day.”
“That’s why you hired Shirley and asked Kayla to check in on her,” Ryder surmises, his knee bouncing up and down.
“Yeah. I didn’t want to put her into a nursing home, and it was either that or hire a caregiver.”
“Send Rod the details, and I’ll cover the cost.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“It kind of is.” Ryder leans forward. “If you weren’t coming to work for us, you’d be there to take care of her.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I got it covered. Thanks.”
“Do you have to be so fucking stubborn?” Ryder looks pissed again.
Our little truce didn’t last long, and his erratic mood swings are seriously giving me whiplash.
“Do you have to be so fucking controlling?” I retort.
He blows air out of his mouth as he looks up at the ceiling, shaking his head. “Fine. I’ll get it added to the terms of your contract.”
“You can’t do that,” I splutter, enraged.
