Frayed Rope (12 page)

I open my green eyes and peer into his blacks, thinking he’s way too fucking good for someone with my baggage. Baggage I won’t let him help me carry, or anyone else for that matter. 

“But let it be known, this is happening Elle. You feel it just as much as I do. It may not happen tonight, or tomorrow. Mark my words woman it will. And I promise you won’t regret it.”

He seals his mouth to mine once more before untangling my legs from around his body, setting me gently on the floor. His eyes roam my face before he kisses me tenderly on the forehead and heads out the door.

I’m stunned. My head resting back against the wall, I close my eyes and take a deep breath into my lungs, wondering how the fuck that all just happened. I hear the porch door and open my eyes, turning my head that way.

Ryder walks back into my kitchen and places the empty bottles on the counter. He stalks over to me and looks down on my face tenderly as he takes my hand. I feel the weight of the gun settle into my palm and close my eyes. His lips touch mine lightly once again before he silently heads out the door.

For the first time in a long time, I dread the thought of sleeping alone.

Chapter Eleven

I wake with a mild ache in my head and roll over to look at the clock. It reads ten. I believe I tossed and turned until four a.m. which means I roughly got six hours of sleep. In my books it’s a good start to the day.

I make my way to the kitchen to start the coffee after my bathroom routine. I turn on the old rock station that I like and peer out the window while the coffee brews.

It’s mild, partly sunny and if my ankle wasn’t still slightly buggered I’d consider a jog. It’s been three days since my fiasco with Ryder and I haven’t seen his truck home since then, I don't take it personally. Actually, I was glad for the reprieve instead of being bombarded with questions the next morning. Last night’s beer bash—party of one—helped drown that night from my mind.

I take my java out to the deck and get ready to settle in before I screech in mild shock.

“What the fuck, Callaghan! Were you expecting that bullet of mine to pierce through your skin sooner rather than later? Jesus!”

He’s successfully startled the shit out of me. And I may just think about shooting him, if he weren’t shirtless and carrying a ladder.

“Morning, sunshine. I knocked, but no answer. Been here for an hour, and when I checked to make sure you were alive since you went to sleep with the door unlocked, you were still out. The gutters on the house need to be cleaned out,” he nonchalantly says like it’s no big fucking deal he’s over here to do work, or the fact he felt he could just barge into my house, door locked or not.

“Ya, okay, tell you what. You leave the ladder, I’ll finish my coffee and then when I get the energy after cup number two, I’ll haul my ass up there and clean them. When I’m done you can come back and get the ladder.”

He shakes his head in exasperation.

“And my dog never barked, so I knew there wasn’t an evil intruder, smartass,” I say to make me seem like less of an idiot for sleeping with the doors unlocked while living next to some sort of security specialist.

“I’m here Elle and I have nothing else to do today. It’s not a big deal.”

If I didn’t find foot stomping childish I’d do it right now.

“It’s a big fucking deal Ryder. Just because I let you stick your tongue down my throat does not give you the right to get all fucking domesticated on me and clean my gutters! Trust me. I’m capable enough to do it myself.”

I park my ass at the table with my coffee and smokes, and silently fume while I wait for him to leave.

No such luck.

He storms his beautiful body up my steps. He has a hat on today which is rare, it’s holding his hair back from his eyes and he has a pair of work gloves shoved in the back pocket of his jeans. His chest is mildly scattered with a light brush of hair and I realize I finally get to see where his sleeve of tattoos ends.

The tribal fire runs up his arm, over his shoulder and onto his left pectoral. The other sleeve ends at the top of his shoulder. There look to be quite a few words and some shapes of private meaning maybe scattered throughout. But without a close inspection I can’t be sure.

I’m thanking my usual hangover morning attire of sunglasses so he doesn't know how much I’m ogling his body right now. I notice he has something that looks like Sanskrit running down his ribs through a complex design I can’t see the rest of because his pants are on.

Dammit!

He cuts me from my filthy thoughts of removing his pants, and any other clothing that would restrict me from viewing his linebacker body.

“Vixen, I’ve been cleaning the gutters on this house since I was old enough to climb a ladder. So whether you can do it or just want to do it doesn’t matter. I’ve helped Tom on this place for decades, and when I’m not around to do it I make sure to find someone who can.”

He’s leaning down on the table in front of me, hands flat against the top. Face close to mine. I’m trying incredibly hard to keep a calm facade, but I know I’m going to fail miserably since I haven’t had my coffee yet, so I speed this along.

“Well soldier, I guess you’re cleaning the gutters while I enjoy my java. Don’t let me hold you up.”

I wave him off and his lips quirk at the side, his two-day growth does nothing to hide it. I’m still ogling him behind my sunglasses but my head is turned to the side so he won’t notice.

He straightens himself from the table and comes around to my side. Bending down, he puts his fingers under my chin and brings his face close before sealing his lips over mine.

Hard.

He pulls away just as quickly and leaves the porch to resume setting up his ladder.

I have nothing to say, apparently he doesn't either. So I resume my morning routine of coffee and cigarettes with a little more to stare at than just the water this time.

When he makes his way to the other side of the house, I decide to use the opportunity to make some lunch. I don't often eat breakfast but after a few hours of being awake and a night of drinking, I’m starting to get hungry.

I check the fridge and decide to make homemade burgers and a salad. After mixing up the meat and throwing together a quick salad I take it all out to the deck on a tray and fire up the grill.

The burgers are almost done, and the fresh buns that I’ve brushed with seasoned butter are almost toasted when Ryder comes walking up the steps.

“The downspout needs to be replaced on the east corner and a few brackets as well, but other than that I got all the shit the squirrels put in there cleaned out.”

I look at him over my shoulder. His skin is glistening with sweat. He produces a shirt from somewhere to wipe his face off. I realize I don't have my sunglasses on and move my eyes back to the barbecue before I speak to him.

“Lunch is almost ready. If you want I’ll go pick up what you need from town afterward,” I say as I pull the buns and meat off the barbecue.

I feel heat but it has nothing to do with the barbecue. His lips settle on the top of my head, his chest presses against my back.

“How about you feed me, then I’ll go pick up the parts since I need a few things at the hardware store for my place anyway,” he says playfully.

I feel him breathe in the scent of my hair, which reminds me I have yet to shower today having just washed my face and brushed my teeth.

“Alright, well grab whatever you want to drink out of the fridge while I finish up here.”

He gives my waist a gentle squeeze, before entering the house.

I have the plates made up and many condiments set out since I have no idea what he likes on his burger. He comes out with two beers and places one in front of me before sitting down at my little square table.

“Smells awesome, Elle. I’m starved.”

He loads his burger up with mayo, mustard and tomatoes before digging in.

I cut my burger in half, adding the same mayo mustard and tomatoes to one side before cutting the other half up on a separate plate. I set it down on the deck for Norma who waddles over to enjoy lunch as well.

“Damn beautiful, this is good. I can also see why your dog waddles.” he adds with a smirk.

I look down at my healthy girl, who’s content with the meal she just inhaled, curling up by Ryder’s feet.

All one hundred and forty pounds of her.

“She’s healthy. And it’s easier cooking for two than just one, so she eats well.”

I give a small smile her way as I dig into my food.

“Ya, I can see that. How old?” he asks around a swallow of meat.

“Seven this summer,” I muse, thinking most large breed dogs like her don't live much longer than ten.

We eat in companionable silence for a while before Ryder speaks.

“Thanks for lunch beautiful. I’m going to head into town so I can finish fixing the eaves before the rain hits. It’s supposed to storm for the next few days.”

He moves to stand, and to my surprise takes his plate and empty bottle with him. I follow behind with the tray and my dishes to find him putting his in the dishwasher.

“Thanks,” I say stunned, as I put the tray on the counter.

His arms come around me and settle on either side of the counter with his chest close to my back. His heat feels good and his smell takes over my senses.

“Don't thank me. If someone cooks for you, it’s common knowledge as far as I’m concerned to help clean up,” he says with his lips on top of my head. Maybe they always end up there because I’m much shorter than he is.

“I’ll be back in a bit.”

He places a chaste kiss in my hair and heads for the door. I don’t say bye, I’m still floored that in my thirty years this is the first man I’ve ever cooked for who has put his dishes away. Jesus.

* * *

I’ve showered and dressed in my typical ‘home’ attire, which usually consists of yoga pants or a long peasant style skirt. Today, it’s going to be the skirt since it’s still sunny and he’s yet to mention the ankle marks.

I have on one of my trademark tanks, nondescript, black and with built-in shelf bra. Out of habit I put on my wrist cuffs and decorative scarf around my neck. I leave my hair in its natural chaos. Large loose dark brown curls flow down my back as I apply my usual light layer of makeup—eyeliner, mascara, lip gloss and a bit of bronzer.

I hear Ryder working on the house again and decide to finish folding all the laundry I washed yesterday.

My head is in the dryer when suddenly I feel a warm hand grope my ass. I jump in shock, banging my head on the dryer door.

“FUCK!” I shout while pulling my hand to the top of my head.

“SHIT! I’m sorry I wasn’t thinking about your head!”

I can hear the humor in his tone.

“No shit? You’re a man! You see an ass and the rest of your brain cells go dormant!” I hiss at him, holding the goose egg that is quickly forming on my skull.

“I’m sorry,” he says, fighting a smile I want to smack off his face.

“How about since you cooked me lunch, you let me cook you dinner. My way of apologizing.”

He brushes the hair out of my face and moves his hand over the lump on my head, grimacing slightly. He can feel it already. His thoughtfulness is overwhelming and I need to step back for a minute.

“It depends what you’re cooking. And if I come, you need to keep some distance Ryder because honestly, I don't know if I can handle this thing between us right now, and I don't know if I’m ready for it,” I say with conviction because as much as I want what he has to offer it’s still the truth.

He studies my face, looking for truth in my words before he nods his head.

“I plan on steak, since you don't seem to be the typical bird eater that will only touch a salad. I assume that's good with you?”

“If you only would have offered me a salad I wouldn’t have come.” I say, deadpan.

He smiles and it’s beautiful, like my cold heart does that ridiculous palpitation thing that makes me think I might have a heart-attack-at- thirty-kind-of-beautiful.

Hands still holding my head, he replies.

“I can give you space Elle, but if space means not seeing you and not being near you then that's not fucking likely to happen unless I’m away for work. I won’t push you, ever. If I make you uncomfortable, you let me know. But until you tell me it’s too much and my hands on your body don't feel right anymore, then I think the pace we have going right now is perfectly fine.”