Notice me walking behind Austin nervously biting off my nails? I’m going into the lion’s den. You’d be biting your fingernails off if you were me too.
Tyler.
Ridge.
Friends, it’s about to be a real shit show.
We enter through the back of my parents’, and the yard is teeming with people. Tyler, as usual, brought most of his team with him.
I’ve met Tyler’s boss—Jameson Riley—numerous times over the years. He’s a nice guy, not like most professional athletes you come across. He’s won the NASCAR Cup championship something like eight times now, and he’s only in his thirties. That’s impressive if you ask me.
The boys find him immediately, ditching me with Austin the instant they spot Jameson and his wife next to Tyler. They have three kids, the youngest being the same age as the boys.
Grady tugs on Jameson’s hand. “Where are your kids?” No “hey Jameson, how have you been?” That’s my kid. One tracked mind.
With a beer dangling in his other hand, Jameson’s laughing at something someone else said, but looks down at Grady and points to the tree where all three of his kids are. “Over there.”
Both Grady and Cash take off to where the other kids are, and I’m grabbed from behind, burly arms around my chest pinning my arms to my side. “It’s ’bout time you came by.”
Austin rolls his eyes and walks away toward the cooler.
Twisting in his arms, I turn and hug Tyler. He smells like beer and gas, much like he always smells. His warm brown eyes beam down at me. “What took you so long?”
Drawing back, I smooth out my tank top, taking the beer he hands me. “We got caught up at the house.” I can’t tell him I was stalling because I know what his next question is going to be.
“Where’s Austin?”
Fuck. I sigh. I wait. . . sigh again. I point to the cooler where Austin disappeared to. He’s not talking to anyone; he’s staring at his phone in his hand.
Thankfully—by the grace of God maybe—Ryder approaches us. Ryder Christensen is my brother’s friend, they met racing USAC and is an eternal bachelor. I don’t think he’ll ever marry because flirting is his thing.
Like now. He kisses my cheek and winks at me, stealing my beer I’d just been given. “Where’s that husband of yours?” He takes a drink. “Finally dump him and give me a chance?”
Tyler has always been intuitive. I have never been able to keep a secret from him, a lot like my dad. I can’t lie to him. Like now.
Just spit it out, Aly. My hands shake. Like an allergic reaction, my throat feels like it’s going to close up. Behind the guys, Ridge’s standing near the fence, leaned into it talking to Jameson now.
Our eyes focus on one another and I can’t, don’t want to look away.
And then I look to Austin. He’s still staring at his phone.
“Austin and I are actually getting a divorce.”
Don’t look at Austin or Ridge. Take notice of my brother’s face. . . then Ryder’s. They glance at one another, and Tyler smiles. “Thank fuck,” Tyler whispers, but then appears confused. “Why is he here?”
And I breathe a sigh of relief. That wasn’t so bad, was it? “Grady asked him to come.”
Tyler takes a drink of his beer and then pulls it away. “Why?”
“Why what?” I ask, playing dumb and trying to hide the nervous look on my face by drinking the beer I steal back from Ryder.
“Why are you getting a divorce?”
Did I inhale sand? It sure feels like I did. I swallow, a few times.
Ryder’s arm wraps around my shoulders. “Now that you’re single. . . let’s talk.”
My apprehension drifts to Ridge again. He’s staring at Ryder’s arm, his jaw tight, the tips of his fingertips whiten around his beer, like he wants to rip it off. He raises the beer, takes a drink.
“Stop that. Leave my sister alone.” Tyler frowns and leans closer, knocking Ryder’s hand away. “Why are you getting a divorce?”
“He. . . well. . .” Oh, just spit it out. What do you care if he wants to kill Austin? You wanted to kill him too. “He cheated on me with Brie.” And just as those words leave my lips, the thirty-some people in the backyard chose then to become eerily quiet. Not that any of them hear what I said, but Tyler sure does.
It takes my brother and Ryder a minute to comprehend my confession. While they attempt to understand why Austin fucked my friend, something I’m still trying to understand, Austin smarts off to the wrong person.
Ridge.
I don’t know how or what transpired, but I see Ridge knock Austin’s phone out of his hand and shove him back against the fence, his blazing glare on my ex. “He wants you to play catch with him. Put down your fucking phone and toss your kid the goddamn ball.”
Austin shoves Ridge back, hard and into a table of food. “Mind your own fuckin’ business.”
My dad jumps up from his chair, separating them, his hands on their chests, talking low and calm. Tyler and Ryder rush over, naturally, but nothing transpires. Austin retreats.
It pisses me off he even came. Why did he? It wasn’t because of Grady. He came so he could make a scene with Ridge. I follow him out the back gate to his Jeep.
“You know,” at the sound my voice, he pauses, shoulders tense, turning his head to look at me, “I don’t really understand what all that was about. Were you there to spend time with them or were you trying to make him jealous?” Pushing my hair from my face, I wait, gauging his reaction. “Because I really can’t tell anymore.”
His glare is masked by the sunglasses, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. “I don’t care if he’s jealous.” And then he nods to the backyard. “Have you fucked him yet? I know something’s happened by his reaction to me being here.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Austin. You care if he’s jealous,” I say, ignoring his comment. “It’s your intention. Stop lying.”
“I’ll stop lying when you do.”
I’m so tired of this I don’t even have the energy to react to him, but I do reply with, “Fuck you.”
“No thanks.” He laughs and reaches for the door handle, winking. “I got your friend for that.”
Would it be too much to ask if he was to you know, crash his Jeep and get paralyzed to the point his dick no longer worked?
Maybe then he couldn’t be walking away all the time, trying to purposely have the last word. And he couldn’t fuck. Two for one.
Turning around, I walk back in the house to find Ridge standing in the kitchen, his arms crossed over his chest. My eyes go to his tattoos on his forearms, then his dark eyes.
“Where’s your husband going?” he asks, sarcasm lacing his voice.
Drawing in a heavy breath, I let it out, preparing myself for what he’s going to say next. I’m not sure how much more sarcasm from men I can take today.
He steps closer, and I can tell he’s had a few more drinks than I realized. There’s a flush to his cheeks, a slowness to his stare. He backs me up until I’m flush against the refrigerator door. I swallow away the words I know are coming.
His eyes dip to my chest, then higher to my lips. His left hand moves, cupping my cheek, his right still holding his drink. I can’t look at him. If I do, I’ll kiss him in front of everyone. I’m staring a hole in the door behind him waiting for someone to come inside and catch us.
He brings his drink to his lips to mask the sly grin forming.
Breathing out, his warmth washes over me. “When you were with him. . . did you think of me?” His voice lingers like his touch always does, wrapping around my mind like the suffocating vise.
I don’t say anything. I can’t. I’m speechless. Part of me wants to punch him in the face for being so arrogant. The other wants to kiss him stupid.
When I don’t say anything, he chuckles lightly, the action slow and drawn out. “I know you did. Even now. . . when you’re near him, I can see it in your eyes.” His left hand remains on my cheek, the tips of his fingers digging into the back of my neck. “You hate him.”
“Ridge. . . .” I sigh, sinking into the cool metal against my back.
“Why was he here?” His lips barely move over the words, his eyes penetrating my soul with their depth. He knows things I don’t even need to say.
“Grady asked him to come.”
“And yet he couldn’t even toss the kid the fucking football for a minute.” Ridge swallows over what seems like a lump in his throat, his feet shifting, but his eyes never leave mine. “I hate seeing him next to you. I don’t like this.”
“Like what?”
He bites the strap of my tank top and yanks, mumbling around the fabric, “Not being able to kiss you.”
I smile, my cheeks burning. “You’ve only kissed me once since you’ve been back.”
He opens his mouth, the strap falls down, wet with his saliva. “That’s what’s driving me crazy.”
Giggling, I swat him away, the heat between my legs throbbing. I need him in ways even I don’t understand, can’t understand.
“It’s driving me crazy, too. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten myself off to the notion of what it will be like.”
Ridge’s eyes snap to mine, wide and confused like I’ve slapped him, and then he grins. “You’ve touched yourself thinking about me?”
I want to slap my hand over my mouth, my heart racing, cheeks blazing at my admittance. “More than once?”
Yep. Totally came out a question.
He growls out a breath. “So hot.”
And then we fuck in the bathroom.
What? You don’t believe me?
Didn’t think so. My brother walks in and steals Ridge, saying something about needing to take shots with his long-lost side-kick. Whatever. Looks like I’ll be getting myself off again tonight.
And then the thought crosses my mind, what if I do and send a video-text to Ridge of it.
My luck it’d get leaked out to the PTA or some shit, and my kids will be taken away from me, so that’s not going to happen, but I can at least tease him with it.