I jog a few more steps, and the tree line opens up. The lake spreads out before me in shades of deep blue and burned orange. The dock stretches into the water, and at the start of the pier… Ryder is leaning against the railing, one boot hooked on the lower board, shoulders easy, eyes on the horizon.
He has changed since this afternoon. The gray T-shirt from the farm is gone, replaced by a dark blue flannel with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. No baseball cap. His hair is combed back, still damp at the ends like he just showered. In the warm light of the dying sun, Ryder is breathtaking.
He turns as if sensing me.
And whatever valiant effort my heart was making not to throw itself at him fails spectacularly.
His smile is brighter and freer than I’ve ever seen it, stripped of all taunts and all caution, leaving just unfiltered joy.
“You came,” he says.
The relief in his voice cracks my chest open.
I walk toward him. “You left me on a cliffhanger this afternoon.”
I’m not sure if he gets the bookish joke, but my brain forgets to care as he pushes off the railing and closes the distance between us.
He catches my wrist and pulls me to him. My other palm lands flat on his chest, right over the rapid thud of his heart. He loops the hand he’s holding behind his neck as his other arm comes around my waist, solid and possessive.
“I would’ve been crushed if you hadn’t come,” he whispers.
I tilt my chin up to meet his gaze. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you.”
I must wince or make a face to give away my disappointment, because he tilts his head, his smile turning playful.
“Not interested in talking, Miss Rose?”
I open my mouth to respond, but words won’t come. My nervous system is caught somewhere between the beat of his heart under my palm and the way his thumbs are drawing slow circles on my hips.
The mental fog worsens as he leans in and brushes his nose against my neck.
“Don’t worry. If we talk half as well as we dance,” he whispers against my skin, “we can skip to the good part later.”
A shiver runs through me, head to toe. My knees buckle, and his hands tighten on my hips, steadying me.
If he keeps this up, I won’t be able to get a word out. Not coherently, anyway. My vocabulary has been reduced to whimpers.
Ryder pulls back, tilting his head in a question. “Come sit on the dock with me?”
I nod because words are still beyond my reach.
He takes my hand, the one that was on his chest, and threads his fingers through mine, leading me down the pier to where the wooden planks end and the water begins.
We sit side by side, legs dangling over the edge, suspended over the lake.
I concentrate on the view. The sun has almost disappeared now, and only a thin line of gold clings to the horizon. Above it, the sky deepens from purple to blue, stars pricking the darker stretch. The lake mirrors it all, making the world twice as big.
I can feel Ryder’s eyes on me. The press of his attention.
“I’m into you,” he says.
I turn to look at him, shocked by the directness. By the simple, unadorned honesty.
“But…” he continues, and my stomach drops.
Here it comes. The reason this can’t work. The inevitable letdown.
