I chant inside my head until I’m certain my outburst was warranted. I could’veaskedif that particular security measure was necessary and let Ryder explain before I yelled. Oh well. It’s a little late forI could’ve.
The damage is done.
No way will I ask Ryder to put that damn camera up in my bedroom, no matter how painful the knots in my stomach are at the thought of someone opening my window in the middle of the night. I won’t admit I was wrong.
Vaughn’s in a wheelchair. How would he climb up a fire escape?
A triumphant smile stretches my lips; my protest was valid.
I turn around. Ryder’s in the opposite corner of the living room to where he started, connecting up more wires.
How long was I staring into the distance?
“Do you need any help?” Arthur asks, his attention jumping between Ryder and me as if he expects more yelling, or maybe heavy things being thrown about.
“No, I’m fine. You should take a nap before your shift.” Ryder’s drilling didn’t let Arthur get much sleep this morning. “I’ll knock at your door when the food’s ready.”
He doesn’t move for a while, standing his ground while I fill the fridge and cupboards with groceries. It’s only when Ryder’s done with the cameras and plops down in the loveseat, a laptop on his knees, that Arthur makes himself scarce.
The door to the spare bedroom closes behind him. Any semblance of a relaxed atmosphere vanishes, leaving tension so thick it’s almost choking.
Several words, sentences, and apologies dance on the tip of my tongue while I busy myself preparing my favorite meal.
None make it past my lips. The silent treatment can continue for the duration of his stay for all I care.
My stomach drops on cue, proving that’s not what I want.
I keep snapping at him for no reason. He makes me feel on edge, watched, judged... cornered.
And like a threatened animal, I lash out.
I almost scoff aloud. Ryder’s not a threat. He’s here to keep me safe. Even before Carter gave him this babysitting job, he proved that my comfort’s high on his priority list.
I pinch my lips, holding off a smile at the memory of him threatening the cab driver. The intensity in his eyes, the low, malicious tone, how his protectiveness made me feel...
Ugh, I’m hopeless.
Just horny.
Yeah, let’s go with that.
I had no opportunities for self-care while Vaughn and I were sharing a room. Nor at Noretto’s, where my bedroomdoor opened at all hours. I had zero privacy, and three months without an orgasm is a long time.
As soon as I take care of that pulsing ache between my legs, my inappropriate reactions to Ryder will cease.
God, he must think I’m crazy...
I swallow hard, accepting the gruesome fact: Ryder deserves an apology. I’ll probably choke onI’m sorryif I dare say it, so an olive branch is the best I can do.
“Carter doesn’t trust me, does he?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral. Cordial. “Hence the camera in my room.”
“All cameras are here for your protection. Including the one that should be in your bedroom, but you’re right. Carter doesn’t trust you.”
I’m at the stove, the smell of melted cheese, garlic, rich cream, and basil wafting the air. Mixing and sampling lets me avoid the scrutiny of his dark eyes which—judging by my scorching cheeks—are pointed at the back of my head.
“Because I didn’t tell him why I ran from Vaughn...”
Before Arthur and I left for the store earlier, Ryder said we could keep ordering in while they’re playing my bodyguards, but cooking helps me relax. I love it. I love it even more when I can feed other people. People who might appreciate the time and skill I pour into every meal.
