Chapter Seven
After five snowy, dreary days, the sun finally peeked out from behind gray clouds. Timmy was beside himself and kept begging Savannah to help him build a snowman. The only problem with that was they could barely open the doors due to the high snow drifts.
“When can I go outside?” Timmy whined.
Ryder closed the iron grate, and the fire in the woodstove threw off a warm red glow as he looked over at the boy.
“The snow would swallow you up. I got some friends that’ll be here in a day or two to dig us out.”
“Brutus gets to go out.” Timmy’s bottom lip pushed out in a small pout.
Ryder fought the smile that tried to form on his lips. “That’s different. He’s gotta go outside, and I made an area in the garage for him to do his business. He’s got a lot more insulation than you do. Anyway, he usually comes back in pretty quick ’cause it’s so damn cold out there.”
“I want to go in the garage too, like Brutus.”
Before Ryder could answer, Savannah shook her head. “Timmy stop arguing with Ryder. You’re being rude. It’s too cold out there. I know you’re antsy, honey, but he said things will be cleared soon. I wish we could go out on the front porch, but you can’t even open the front door.” She bent down and pulled out a cast-iron frying pan.
Ryder walked over and stood behind her, reveling in the now familiar scent that was all Savannah. He inhaled deeply then brushed against her, waiting for her body to shiver like it always did when he’d “accidentally” touch her. It was sleazy on his part, but if her body didn’t react like it did, he wouldn’t be doing it. The truth was, they were both damn attracted to each other—he saw it in her eyes, in the way her skin flushed, and her shallow breathing. He wanted to yank her to him and crush his mouth on her delectable lips, but he was afraid if he kissed her once, he’d never be able to let her go. Ryder was the interlude on her journey to a new life and he didn’t want to mess that up. Besides, he didn’t want a woman full-time in his life, but he had to admit that the blonde cutie tugged at something deep inside him. Something that he hadn’t felt since Dana. Why the fuck am I thinking about that bitch? Savannah’s nothing like her.
“Did you want something?” Savannah’s soft voice pulled him from his thoughts.
“Yeah … there’s a lot of things I want,” he replied, his gaze locking hers. There’s that adorable pink blush coloring her face. Damn.
She shifted in place then put the frying pan on one of the burners.
Ryder leaned over, loving the small catch of her breath when his arm brushed against the side of one of her breasts, and grabbed the handle of the pan. “I told you I was making breakfast. Go sit down and we can talk.”
Savannah threw him one of her megawatt smiles—the ones that were slowly chipping away at the ice encasing his heart.
“Yes, sir.” She touched her hand to her temple in a mock salute.
“Smartass,” he mumbled as visions of her bent over his lap while he spanked her naked, round ass filled his head.
“Is this like the worst blizzard in Colorado history?” she asked as she slid onto one of the stools and watched him.
“Pretty much.” He turned away and took out eggs, bacon, and a couple of potatoes from the refrigerator.
“Mommy, Brutus is kissing my hands.”
Ryder glanced over and smiled; Brutus had really taken to the kid. “If you want to give him a treat, the dog biscuits are in the pantry.” Watching Savannah pad over with Timmy at her heels touched him in ways he didn’t want to think about. Ever since he’d lost everything, he’d shut himself away from the world, not wanting anyone to get close to him, especially women. His parents and siblings had finally caught on that he wasn’t the same person who’d left for his last tour of duty a few years before. That man had a son who he adored, a beautiful and strong woman by his side, and a shitload of hope for the future. That man was gone, and the one who replaced him lived a solitary life caring only about meeting his basic needs. The only person he was close to was Hawk, and the last person he’d let into his life was a woman, but Savannah and her young son were wreaking all kinds of havoc on his emotions and his life. It surprised him because they’d only come into his world a short five days before.
It must be due to the snow and that we’re housebound. Being in such close quarters messes with you. Ryder peeled the potatoes then grated them into a bowl. And she’s fucking hot. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Savannah sitting on her haunches next to Brutus and Timmy. Damn she’s got a fine ass. Timmy prattled and she laughed while running her hands over Brutus’s thick fur. She was a picture of beauty and sexy femininity, and Ryder was mesmerized.
Then suddenly, as if sensing his gaze, Savannah craned her neck and looked him right in the eyes. A warm smile swept across her face, and he picked up a glint of desire in those sparkling blues. Oh yeah, darlin’. Timmy’s chattering grew quiet in Ryder’s ears, and everything around him seemed to slow down and fade. At that moment, the only thing that existed to him was her face and that smile. Ryder wasn’t sure how long they held each other’s gaze, but he didn’t care because he was lost in it … in her.
“It smells funny in here.” Timmy holding his nose plummeted Ryder back to reality and he looked down at the burnt bacon.
“Fuck!” He grabbed the handle of the skillet and moved it off the burner to avoid a grease fire. He switched on the overhead fan then stalked over to the garage door and opened it to try and clear the smoky haze. I need to stop this shit and focus. It’s like I’m some horny eighteen-year-old. Fuck.
“What happened?” Timmy asked as Savannah tried to shush him.
“I burned the damn bacon.” Ryder opened the fridge and took out another slab.
“Do you need any help? I can clean the frying pan,” Savannah offered.
He gave her a sidelong glance. “I’m good,” he snapped then felt a tinge of regret when he saw her face fall as she slinked away from him. After cutting the slices again, he placed them in another sizzling pan and refused to look or even think about the sexy woman as the rush of desire mixed with anger coursed through his body.
By the time they were ready to sit at the table, the anger had subsided inside him, but the desire was still there, always bubbling just beneath the surface, ready to boil over whenever Savannah was near.
“The breakfast is very good,” Savannah said while she scooped another spoonful of hash browns onto her plate. “I figured you were a good cook since you have such a well-stocked pantry and fridge.”
Ryder grunted then picked up his coffee and took a deep gulp. “You on some sort of timeline?”
“Yes and no,” she replied.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Timmy giggled and Savannah threw him a stern look, and he went back to shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth.
“It means that I’d like us to reach our destination by a certain date, but that date is somewhat flexible.”
“Where you going to?”
She shrugged slightly. “Maybe northern California or Alaska.”
Ryder jerked his head back. “There’re a lot of miles between those states. I’m hearing that you aren’t sure where the hell you’re going.”
Savannah stiffened in the chair and raised her chin up. “That’s not true. I’m just trying to figure out where would be the best place to …” she lifted the glass of orange juice and brought it to her lips.
“Escape?” Ryder pushed his empty plate away from him.
She threw him a quick look then glanced down. “No.”
“Are you sure about that?” he asked.
An awkward silence fell between them until Timmy’s voice broke through it. “Can I play Super Mario Brothers?”
Ryder leaned back, not taking his eyes from Savannah. She nodded too vigorously and helped her son push back his chair. Timmy sprinted away with Brutus following behind him.
Savannah started to stand up, but he grabbed her hand, holding her in place. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Maybe I don’t want to,” she whispered.
“I’m not stupid, Savannah. There’s no way you’re dragging your kid in a second-hand trailer just for the fun of it.”
“I’m running away,” she replied in a barely audible voice.
She suddenly seemed fragile and vulnerable, and as she looked up at him with those big eyes, an overwhelming urge to hold this woman in his arms and protect her rustled through him.
He kept his hand over hers and gently squeezed it. A small gasp fell on his ears and he scanned her flushing face.
“Do you want to tell me why?” he asked.
“I’ve left my husband. It’s something I don’t want to go into right now.” She didn’t pull her hand away from his.
“Okay,” he answered, tilting his head. “But since you don’t have an exact plan, and it’s gonna take a week or two to clear the back roads, you and Timmy should stay here for a while longer.” Her eyes widened at his suggestion, and he was pretty damn surprised by it as well. Where the hell did that come from? Ryder was a loner and hadn’t wanted to get close to anyone, yet he had a strong inclination to protect her from whatever it was that had her spooked enough to run in the dead of winter. And Timmy … damn he reminds me of Colt—dark hair and all.
“If you’re sure it’s no bother, Timmy and I would like that. Maybe we can go to the charity event where you’re donating the train set. I’d love Timmy to see Santa Claus.” She ran her other hand through her hair. “Christmas is going to be very different for him this year.”
Ryder had expected her to balk at his suggestion, at least just a little bit, so it amazed him when she’d agreed so readily.
“Once the roads are cleared, I’d like to go into town and get some gifts for Timmy.”
“I can take you, but it won’t be for a few more days at least. Timmy can hang at Hawk’s house. He’s got a boy who’s a year younger than Timmy.”
“I’m not sure about that. I don’t like him going to anyone’s house if I don’t know them. Maybe you can grab a bite to eat with him while I shop.”
“You’ll meet Hawk soon enough. He’s cool. He’s VP of the Insurgents. His old lady’s a lawyer, and she comes from a rich-as-hell family here in Pinewood Springs.”
Savannah’s lips curved up into another one of her smiles that slayed him. “I’d like to meet them. What’re the Insurgents?”
“A motorcycle club. I’m an inactive member, but I used to be an active one a lifetime ago.”
“Do you still ride?” Her gaze drifted to his missing leg then back to him.
“Yeah. The ride is what keeps me going. There was no damn way I was gonna be a permanent cager. Hawk customized my bike so I could ride with this thing on.” He tapped his prosthesis. “It works great. It took some getting used to, but I don’t even notice the difference anymore when I’m cruising around the mountain roads.”
“I know how you feel. I used to ride on the back of an old high school boyfriend’s and my dad’s bike. I loved the feeling of flying and the wind whipping around me. It’s easy to see how people can get addicted to it.” She slipped her hand out of his and pushed away from the table. “You cooked, so I’ll clean up. I can make some hot chocolate if you’d like. According to Timmy, mine’s the best he’s ever tasted in all of his six years.” She laughed, and it was music to Ryder’s ears.
He hauled himself up and took his dish to the sink, and then walked into the family room and added a few more logs to the fire. He slumped on the couch and rubbed his skin; his stump was extra buzzy that day. Even though phantom pains still bothered him at times, they weren’t nearly as severe as they used to be, especially that first year after the amputation. It was a weird feeling to look down and not see his leg even though it felt like it was there. In the beginning, it’d messed with his head, but after finding out that a lot of people dealt with phantom pains, he’d learned how to trick his mind from believing that the leg was still there. Most of the times it helped, but sometimes the damn stinging just wouldn’t stop.
Staring at the fire, Ryder relaxed and applied pressure on his skin the way his therapist had taught him. Savannah didn’t seem disgusted about my missing leg. When she’d confessed that she’d seen him that afternoon without his prosthesis, fear and shame ran through him all at the same time. Fear that she’d see him the way mainstream society often viewed the amputee—incomplete, and shame that she’d think he was less of a man like his ex-fiancée had. As far as he could tell, Savannah hadn’t acted any differently since learning about the loss of his limb.
“Here you go. Do you want a shot of whiskey in it?” she asked him, startling him from his thoughts.
“That’d be good. The bottle’s in the—”
“Third cabinet on the right.” She smiled. “I know.”
Ryder watched as she stood on her tiptoes and reached up high to gingerly take the bottle down from the top shelf. He sucked in a sharp breath as the hem of her top rose, revealing inch after inch of creamy skin. She closed the cupboard, pulled down her shirt, and walked back into the family room.
“How much do you want?” she asked, unscrewing the top.
“I’ll pour it.” He took the bottle from her. “Want some?”
“I’m not a whiskey gal.” She giggled softly. “Don’t give me that look—not everyone drinks Jack Daniels.”
“I don’t know why the fuck not.” He poured a generous portion into his mug.
“I’m going to bring Timmy his cup. I’ll be right back.”
Ryder put the bottle down on the end table, amazed that it was still half full. Normally, he’d have gone through the three bottles of booze by now, and it surprised him that he hadn’t.
“He’s so engrossed in the game,” she said, walking toward him.
Savannah sat on the opposite end of the couch with her fingers curled around the ceramic mug. Wisps of steam curled above it as she puckered her lips and blew softly.
Fuck … that mouth of hers.
Her body was angled toward him, but her gaze was on the crackling fire. He couldn’t help but notice that the baggy shorts she wore slowly rode up her thighs. And they were beautiful thighs—soft but toned. They would be good for … well … a lot of things.
An exasperated sigh followed by fingers pulling down her shorts made him look up and capture her gaze.
“Really, Ryder?” Her tone was impatient, but a hint of desire shone in her eyes.
Holding his intense stare, his front teeth slowly bit his bottom lip. “What do you want from me? You’re a beautiful woman, and I’m a man.”
A pinkish flush crossed her cheeks as a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I’m very well aware that you’re a man,” she said before taking a sip of hot chocolate. “Anyway, I-um … I’ll be leaving after Christmas. I have to make sure Timmy’s enrolled in school for the next school term.”
“Pinewood Springs has some excellent grade schools.”
Savannah looked at him and smiled. “We can’t stay here forever.”
“I just meant until summer when the weather warms up and it’s safer to drive.” What the hell’s gotten into me? I’m sitting here practically begging her like a fucking pussy. And what am I asking her to do? I don’t want a full-time family in my life. Being snowbound has me thinking like some lovesick asshole. Shit.
“You may have a point there. I’ll just have to think about everything.”
“There’re a lot of nice apartments or houses for rent in town.” He wanted to make sure she understood that he wasn’t a desperate and lonely wuss.
For a split second, a look of confusion fell across her face, then she tilted her head. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said and shifted her gaze back to the spitting fire.
A comfortable silence stretched between them. Savannah leaned over and put the mug on the coffee table then leaned back against the cushion. Seeing her breasts rise as she crossed her arms behind her head ignited his desire. His gaze stayed with her every movement as she ran her fingers through her golden hair and licked her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. He began to sweat as his excitement escalated.
Ryder adjusted his jeans as he stood up, mumbling that he needed to take a shower. The truth was that he had to get out of the room. His dick hadn’t gone soft since Savannah had come back into the room, and he didn’t put much trust into keeping his hands to himself. Ryder’d been fantasizing about her too damn much.
He dashed to the bathroom and started the water, then shed his clothes and put a large plastic bag over his prosthesis. Two minutes later, he stood under the warm jets, stroking his swollen cock as he imagined sinking into Savannah’s hot, silky pussy. Seconds later, his balls roiled and constricted, and his lower back stiffened.
“Fuck,” he murmured.
The top of his scalp prickled all the way to his toes. Pulse after pulse, threads of his release splattered on the shower tiles as he panted and leaned against the wall to keep from toppling over.
That woman is fucking killing me.
Ryder stood there until the blood finally rushed to his head, and his breathing grew steady. Fuck, that didn’t last long. Grabbing the showerhead, he aimed it at the tiles and watched his spunk wash down the drain, wishing it were inside Savannah. What a fucking waste.
Later that night, Ryder escaped to his workroom and shut and locked the door. He didn’t think he could handle another evening of Savannah’s scent wrapping around him as they sat on the couch watching a movie. Too close, yet too fucking far.
He wanted his life back with his normal routine: thumbing through biker magazines, creating wooden toys, drinking until he passed out. Glancing at a worn wooden chest his father had given him years before, Ryder gritted his teeth as he stood up. If he wasn’t so fucking stubborn, he’d ditch the leg and give his skin some time to heal. Even though Savannah had suggested it, he didn’t want her to see him without his leg. I know that’s stupid as fuck. But that’s the way he felt.
Ryder bent down and opened the chest, then he pulled out a large cigar box and walked back to the chair. His insides twisted as he placed the box on the worktable and slowly opened it. On top of a stack of photographs was the Purple Heart awarded to him because a fucking landmine blew off his leg in Afghanistan. He ran his thumb over the gold-colored profile of President Washington, then moved it across the textured purple ribbon. I can’t believe you’re gone, buddy. Images of Jeremy’s bloodied face and scattered chunks of his charred and red-stained flesh stabbed at Ryder’s mind. Why the fuck did you follow me? I told you to stay back. Fuck!
Suddenly, gunshots erupted around him, and he felt the dust of the desert choking him as he yelled out to his best friend. More screams—explosions—chaos. His fist slammed down on the worktable, breaking one of the smiling wooden people he’d made for the train set. Gulping in deep breaths of air, Ryder tapped his arm repeatedly. “I’m in the workroom. I see my drills and saws. I see the unpainted train cars.” He continued to say out loud everything that was in the room in order to ground him to the here-and-now. It was a technique he’d learned at one of the counseling sessions to combat PTSD.
After what seemed like hours, his body stopped shaking and his breathing returned to normal again. Ryder tucked the Purple Heart under a stack of letters, then he picked up a photograph of a grinning younger version of himself, holding a young boy in one arm and draping the other around a pretty dark-haired woman.
A soft knock on the door interrupted his memories.
“Are you all right?” Savannah’s muffled voice drifted under the crack.
After a long pause, he rose to his feet and opened the door. Concern etched her face, and he wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her tight as if she were a life raft saving him from drowning in the memories of his past.
The photograph fluttered down from his hands and fell on the floor. Before he could move, Savannah had picked it up.
“Is this you?” she asked, pointing to the tall man in uniform.
Ryder nodded.
“Who’s the young boy?”
Another long pause.
“He’s my son.” Icy fingers tightened around his heart, and he clenched his jaw.
“I didn’t know you had a son. Is … was this your wife?”
“No … we were planning to get married.” Not wanting to dredge up the past, Ryder snapped the photo from Savannah’s hands and walked back to the table. He shut the cigar box and slammed down the top of the chest.
Savannah didn’t ask any more questions, and he was grateful for that. He sat down and picked up one of the trees he’d made and stared at it.
Then her scent enveloped him, telling him she was near. Her soft hands fell on his shoulders as strands of her hair brushed the back of his neck.
“Come watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas with us. I’m making caramel corn.”
Her touch, her laugh, and her kindness shone light into the darkest corners of his heart. He stood up and let her take his hand in her own as she led him out of the room.