The Replacement (33 page)

“Elise,” Natalie’s voice calls out to me. I stop and turn to find her at a table to the right, pouring coffee for a customer. “So you finally made it to Paris, huh?”

My gaze darts to Jay’s for a second and he nods subtly, telling me it’s okay. “Yeah, finally,” I say carefully, looking back at Natalie. That same guarded look I’ve come to know since our fallout holds her expression hostage, but her eyes say something else.

“Good for you.” She smiles. It’s still careful, still void of trust, but it’s kind and genuine, and that’s everything to me.

“Thanks. It was amazing.”

“Maybe you can show me pictures sometime.”

I begin to stutter, but quickly correct myself. “I’d like that. Sure. Any time.”

She nods and holds my gaze for a moment, then resumes pouring coffee and chatting with her customers. Jay and I take that as our cue, wandering out to the parking lot.

“My car or yours?” I ask.

“Mine. You’ll have a ride back.”

Excitement unfurls in my gut, and I climb into his passenger seat, praying my mind will calm down long enough to focus. I need to breathe, need to get it together, but all I can think about is seeing his face. What it’ll do to me when I breathe him in, feel his lips on mine.

Jay pays me a knowing side glance as he drives us toward South Bend, and I just grin like the nervous fool I am. We roll up to Ryder’s cabin just before 11 a.m. We bounce around as the rocky dirt drive welcomes us, pulling us into the woods’ rustic magic. Duke’s distinctive bark echoes in the distance when I step out of the car. I straighten my coat and comb fingers through my hair, looking for any signs of Lauren. Nothing so far, but I haven’t been inside yet.

“She’s not here,” Jay says, reading my mind. “Long gone, right before you left for Paris.”

“Good.” I vaguely wonder how she made out, having to head back out into the harsh world with a bun in the oven, knowing she lost Ryder Jacobson. Losing him can’t feel good. I would know.

Duke’s bark grows closer. His dark shadow comes bounding from around the back of the cabin, heading straight for us. Laughter follows his mad dash, and the sound sends heat straight down my spine, stopping in my toes.

And there he is.

Striding casually behind Duke, appearing from around back, with all that easy grace I love. Broad shoulders, every-man smile, that imperfect tooth, and a five-o-clock shadow that male models kill for. The rest of his art is covered in denim jeans and a hunter green sweater. He’s carrying a pile of firewood, his breath visible as he tells Duke to settle down. I pat Duke on the head, but I can’t take my eyes off his owner. He’s my owner, too.

I hope he still wants to be.

Ryder meets my gaze as he walks closer. He slows in his tracks, his grin slowly growing as he drinks me in.

“Let me get that for you.” Jay strolls up to him, taking the firewood off of his hands. He calls out to Duke and Duke trots up to his side to follow him toward the house. “I’ll give you two kids a minute.”

Ryder glances briefly in Jay’s direction, a fleeting look of gratitude, but his eyes are all on me, every inch, every crevice. With the way he’s looking at me, we’re going to need a hell of a lot more than a minute.

I shiver as the harsh winter wind whips at my cheeks, but the sting of the cold disappears when Ryder moves in.

“I’m surprised you came back,” he says, brushing his hands on his pants.

Disappointment rattles through me, my heart crashing to a ravine in my chest. “You are? I thought…I mean, I thought I made it clear that I—”

“From Paris, Elise.” He smirks and steps closer, his presence intoxicating. “I was afraid once you got there, you’d never want to come home.”

Relief breezes through me just as fast as panic sought to sink me. “Oh,” I laugh, biting my lip.

“How does it feel? Being a celebrity now and all.” His lips swish to the side playfully and he freezes when the tips of his boots hit mine. We both just stand there, staring. Waiting.

“I didn’t mean to single anyone out,” I clear my throat, averting my eyes, “I just had to get some of that off my chest. You know, purge.”

“They say confession frees the soul.”

“Guess that’s true.”

A quiet gasp escapes me when he reaches up to smooth his cold, rough fingers over my cheek. They travel along the edge of my earlobe and thread through my hair. His eyes follow their trail, taking in my shorter, edgier hair style. “I like,” he says softly, low and smooth, just like the glide of his fingers. “It suits you.”

I lean into his touch, closing my eyes. “Me, too.”

“I like this more.” His lips suddenly touch mine, pressing lightly, his tongue gliding along my lower lip, seeking entrance. I exhale into the kiss, giving him an immediate green light. I open and accept him, letting the reeling force overtake me. His kiss reaches deep, slow and sensual, careful yet firm—a Ryder Jacobson kiss. The one I’ve been waiting for.

And then I can’t wait a second longer.

My hands land on his chest and slide upward, looping around his neck. He cups my face, staggering forward, his mouth turning desperate. Our hot breaths plume in the winter air, our cold lips warming as the kiss turns hard and urgent. He palms the small of my back, smoothing his hand over my ass to pull me against him.

“Hey baby,” he murmurs. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Ryder?”

“Yeah?”

“I hope you have strawberry ice cream in the house.”

His breath tickles my face. “Oh, I stocked up last night.”

“Are you always so prepared?”

“Always.”

“And patient?”

He laughs and nibbles along my lower lip, sending me a subtle but very pointed rock of his hips. Right here, in the middle of the forest, in broad daylight. With the closest thing I have to a father within viewing distance. “Not always.”

“We better get inside.”

“Why Elise Duchamp, are you suddenly turning shy on me?”

“Oh, just get moving, Jacobson.” I raise a brow and begin tugging on his hand, leading us toward the cabin. Surprise widens those dimples and color spreads over my cheeks. The truth is I do feel shy. Like all of the lights have been turned on and I’m standing naked in the middle of the forest, everything on full display.

I blame it on Paris.

When we step inside, we find Jay tending to the fire while Duke gobbles away at his food bowl, slurping up every last piece of kibble. Jay grunts as he rises, planting his hands on his hips as he assesses the fire.

“I think that’ll do,” he says with a nod. “Nice and toasty.”

“Thanks, man.” Ryder slips out of his coat and makes a move for the kitchen. I scan the cabin, relieved to see all of Lauren’s touches are gone. It’s Ryder’s place again. “Hey, I have a few more books for you to take home. Right there, on the top shelf. The ones you asked about.” Ryder points to the chestnut bookshelf near the fireplace while he collects some spoons and bowls.

“Ah, yes,” Jay says, reaching for the bag of paperbacks. “Thanks, Kid.”

“Care to stay for some ice cream?”

“Ice cream? In this weather? It’s not even noon.”

“No better time.” Ryder sends me a sly glance. “We have strawberry.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. Gotta get back to the restaurant. Just wanted to swing by and bring you your girl, here.” He walks over to Ryder and claps him on the shoulder. “Take good care of her, you hear?”

“You have my word.” They exchange looks and Jay nods, holding Ryder’s gaze for a long moment. He finally waves to us both and strolls to the door.

“Strawberry ice cream in December,” he mumbles, shaking his head.

“We have warm brownies, too,” Ryder drawls, just as Jay reaches the door knob. He pauses, looking tempted, but groans and pats his belly on a exhale.

“Better not,” he says. “Don’t want to fatten myself up for the Mrs. You two enjoy your sweets. Behave now, lovebirds.”

“We’ll try,” I smile coyly, joining him at the door. I walk him out to his car and tell him to drive safely, my heart lurching as I watch him drive away. One love of my life on his way out, another on his way in.

I look back at the cabin.

Ryder’s silhouette is visible through the frosty windows. An orange glow pools from the fireplace, casting it in soft light. I could stand here, just like this, watching him while I freeze to death. But I want to be bathed in that light with him.

And I want the sweets he’s preparing for us.

“There she is,” he says, when I come up behind him, resting my cheek on his back. My arms encase him, hands planting firmly on his chest. He’s scooping the strawberry ice cream over the warm brownies, which smell divine.

“My three favorite things, all under one roof.” I kiss his shoulder, watching him work.

He glances behind him, eyeing me. “Well, did you read it? I left the copy in your kitchen.”

“I wrote it. I already know what it says.”

“Then why did you want the copy?”

“Just thought I should have it. I’ll read it someday, I’m sure.”

He sets a spoon down and slowly turns, leaning back against the counter. “Move in with me.”

My lips part and eyes widen. “Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

“Did everything go okay with Lauren?” I still don’t like saying her name. I’m sure it has the same effect on me that Christian’s name has on Ryder. Well, maybe not to the same degree, but it’s unpleasant all the same.

“It’s all settled. There’s nothing to worry about. She’s my past, you’re my future.” He lifts my hand and kisses my knuckle. “Simple.”

“But the baby…how did she take it?”

“Elise, it’s over. I promise, it’s okay. Lauren’s a strong girl. She’ll make it on her own. It wouldn’t have worked out. I couldn’t give her what she wanted.”

“Well, I could get used to this place,” I say, looking around wistfully. “What’ll we do when Richard needs it back? Go back to the campground?”

“We’ll figure it out. Maybe we can get a place of our own. Do a little traveling.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, you’ll move in?”

“Yes to it all.” I slouch forward, leaning against him. “Yes to everything, as long as it’s with you.”

A quiet intake of breath parts his delicious lips, and I inhale, spoiling myself. Rich tree bark and cinnamon spice, all musky and earthen.

Perfect.

“I’m going to make you happy, baby.” His eyes flare with determination, and he spins around to grab the bowls, leading us to the sofa. It feels like it was ages ago when I sat on this couch, in front of this fire, with Ryder spooning me cool strawberry cream. We feed one another leisurely, wordlessly. When we’re done, I tell him all about my adventures in Paris.

How I got lost in Montmartre.

Made friends in Au Levain du Marais, the most charming boulangerie.

Discovered some of the best vintage shopping and marveled at the Louvre.

Sipped a cup of sweet and spicy mulled wine at the Champs-Élysées Christmas market.

Bought a chic chapeau at Le Bon Marché.

Gawked at Notre-Dame.

Missed him.

Missed him a lot.

“Any word from him?” Ryder changes the subject, after I’ve indulged him in my travel details. He looks down, pushing his spoon around in the empty ice cream bowl.

“I haven’t spoken to Christian, Ryder. Not since that night. He’s texted me to ask how I’m doing and I’ve let him know I’m okay. That’s all, I swear.”

“I believe you.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” His gaze lifts to mine and his jaw flexes. “I do.” He rubs my knee and stands, collecting my empty bowl. “I’m going to run us a hot bath. You relax. I’ll come get you when it’s ready.”

“
Mmmm
, sounds perfect.” I tilt my head and close my eyes. I love his tub. It’s an old, clunky, antique piece of junk, with clawed feet and a squeaky faucet, but it’s clean and functional, and when I’m sharing it with Ryder, all is right in the world.

He deposits our dishes in the sink and starts for the bathroom, disappearing and leaving me with the crackling fire. Duke chews contently on a bone, lounging comfortably on his bed, enjoying the warmth. I sigh and shift forward, rummaging around the coffee table for something to read. This is the perfect afternoon for a hot bath with my man and a good book.

Luckily, I’m in the right place.

Ryder has books sprawled everywhere. There are various timeworn paperbacks, hard cover editions of older classics, and the latest contemporaries, strewn over the table, covering magazines and coasters. I fumble through the selection, stilling when I uncover a copy of The Gig Harbor Weekly. It’s the latest one, hidden underneath a pile of woodshop magazines. There’s a page flagged at the corner, and I don’t have to guess which one it is.

Glancing over the back of the couch, I search for Ryder. The water is running in the bathroom and he’s humming an Eddie Vedder song.

On a long exhale, I open the paper to the flagged page. My curiosity fuels me to look. To see what I already know is there.