Chapter 20

 

Claire had never had sex in this bed before. In fact, she’d never had sex anywhere in this apartment. Not once had she been tempted to bring a date home, much less invite him to take off his clothes. But as she slowly trailed two fingers down Ry’s broad, strong back, lazily making a pattern all the way to his muscular butt, she felt grateful that she’d gone with her instincts and hadn’t become seriously involved with a man until she was ready.

Because, with Ry, it was like never before—it was something magical.

Sex with him—just being with him—was amazing and a little bit crazy. Crazy in a very good way. Here she was, Miss Nobody from small town Maine, getting it on with a guy who everybody in the world would think was way above her pay grade. Ry was rich, famous, and ridiculously hot, not to mention multi-talented, ambitious, and smart. For someone like her to be with a man like him was the stuff of fairy tales. It was the product of a strange intersection of circumstances and decisions that had somehow landed them in each other’s paths.

Actually, it seemed more like fate than random chance that had brought them together. And right now that was pretty much scaring the spit out of her.

Fairy tales, as everyone knew, tended to end with a happily ever after—at least the ones she liked. Unfortunately, she still had a hard time seeing how her fantastical romance with Ryder Griffin could ever lead to a happy ending. Aside from the fact that he was a major risk taker, he was getting ready to knock down her beloved house to build a monster mansion. And after he did that, there was the very real possibility that he would sell that mansion and leave Brides Bay, putting small town life in his rear view mirror.

And there would go any chance of her glass slipper ending.

What the heck have you gotten yourself into, Claire?

“I hope you realize that if you keep doing that, I might have to make you pay in some very interesting ways,” Ry said, his voice coming out in a lazy drawl.

She’d thought he was dozing.  “Do you promise? Cross your heart and hope to die?”

He turned over and slid an arm under her shoulders, then kissed the top of her head. “I doubt this was how you intended to spend the rest of your day.”

“I’m certainly not complaining. I’m sure you had other plans too.”

“Yeah, funny what can happen on your way to get beer and dog food.”

“Life happens.” She planted a long, soft kiss on the center of his chest and swore she could feel his heart speed up. “It’s fitting that we got a little compensation for that awful scene on the bridge.”

He gave her a mock scowl. “Little? That’s not what you were saying a few minutes ago.”

She hid her smile against his warm skin.

“Anyway,” he added, “I figure it was our good karma for showing some common sense.”

With a sigh, she rested her chin on his chest. “If only honest dialogue could solve the problem. But in this case I’m afraid somebody might have to blink.”

“Carling Middleton doesn’t look like the blinking type to me. And you know how much she runs the show on the island. The rest of those guys were like her court jesters today.”

“All of them but you.”

“Well, no surprise there. I’m usually the odd man out. Always have been. That could go on my tombstone.”

She heard the irony in his light tone. “You’ve never felt like you fit in, have you? Not even when you had thousands of fans cheering for you.”

“It didn’t matter much when I was on the ice. Playing was all that mattered.”

His calloused hand smoothed down her back and stroked over her bottom. It was shocking how easily his touch could wind her up.

“You didn’t even feel close to your teammates?” she murmured. “No band of brothers stuff in the locker room?”

After a few moments, his silence had her thinking she’d stuck her foot in her mouth again.

“I’ve never thought much about it, to be honest,” he finally said. “I’m not even sure what that expression really means when it comes to sports. I know I sweated and fought for those guys, just like they did for me. And I liked most of them. But it wasn’t like we were hunkered down together in some foxhole, getting blasted to shit by Nazi artillery. We were just a bunch of guys who skated on the same team for a while before we got traded somewhere else or retired. Or were dumped.”

She had to wonder if he’d ever felt truly close to another human being—other than his mom, who had died when he was so young. His father sounded like a monster, and his brief marriage had obviously been a dysfunctional nightmare. He probably wasn’t exaggerating when he said he wasn’t sure what it meant to be close to someone.

Despite everything Ry had going for him, she couldn’t help wondering if he’d ever be happy. To find true and lasting happiness, not just moments of pleasure—like here in bed—or thrills when racing his motorcycle. By happiness she meant the bone-deep satisfaction with the state of your life, a contentment strong enough to weather even the roughest storms.

Then again, she supposed the same might be said for her.

* * *

The woman might as well have danger stamped on her forehead. Ry doubted even her courageous decision to stand up to Anson Dunn and his gang was likely to diminish her status as Brides Bay’s number one sweetheart. Any guy who dared to screw her over, especially an outsider, would find himself in a world of hurt. Getting tossed off a lobster boat into the cold waters of the bay would be a definite possibility.

Yet he’d made love to her for the third time today and the sun was barely down. The first time, they hadn’t even made it to her bedroom, stripping off each other’s clothes as they collapsed in a tangle of limbs on the sofa. The next time had been less frenzied, as they did it in bed, drinking wine and not talking much, both a little stunned by what was happening between them. Then he’d pulled on his clothes and picked up dinner at the Jade Palace down the street. They’d only taken half a dozen bites each when he came up behind her as she was uncorking a second bottle of wine and slid his hands under her shirt. Thirty seconds later, they were mostly naked again with her bent over the kitchen counter and him deep inside her. They’d finished that one in spectacular fashion on the sofa after Claire unexpectedly took charge of the play calling in mid-game.

When she pushed him onto his back and warned him that he’d better not move until she gave him permission, he sure hadn’t expected a move like that. And, man, it had it turned his crank. Not that he’d been able to obey Mistress Claire for very long before he’d flipped her over and fucked them both into exhaustion.

Now reality was rearing its nasty head, telling him he was being six times a goddamned fool. But he was learning to ignore reality. If he was stupid, then stupid had never felt so good. She was like the greatest dessert he’d ever eaten, awesome sweetness laced with some kind of crazily addictive drug.

Claire stretched beside him, yawning. She’d dozed off for a few minutes, leaving his mind free to wander. When she rolled over onto her side and brushed a few strands of silky blond hair from her face, her sweet smile went straight to his groin. “Penny for your thoughts, big guy?”

“With inflation, that old saying should be up to about a buck now,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose.

In return, she flicked her tongue over his lips.

Jesus. As if I needed any encouragement.

“I’ll pay that and a lot more if those thoughts are as dirty as I think they are,” she murmured.

Her sex-sated voice made him instantly hard again.

“My thoughts are that somehow I’ve gotten myself in the clutches of an insatiable sex fiend.”

She sighed. “It’s awful to be you, isn’t it?”

“You have no idea.” He glanced at the bedside clock. “But right about now, some big furry guy must be super mad at me. I’d better deal with that right now.”

When she bolted upright, the sheet slid off and exposed her gorgeous breasts. The pink tips were hard and just begging to be sucked.

“Oh, right, poor Stanley hasn’t been fed yet! I’m sure he’ll be sitting at the front door thinking you’ve abandoned him. Believe me, I know that look.”

“Yeah, he must be starving by now. I didn’t think a trip to the grocery store for beer would end up taking five hours.”

“I’m sure he’ll forgive you the moment you set a full dish in front of him. But yes, you should go.” She made a little shooing motion.

“Why don’t you come with me? Maybe even stay the night at my place?” Then he realized it might sound like he was some kind of sex fiend himself. Or like you’re really falling for her, dude. “Or maybe you’d rather not leave this nice, cozy bed.”

Claire frowned slightly as she studied him. He had to resist the temptation to jump out of bed and start dressing, because he had the distinct impression she could read his mind. Not that it would be very difficult. It would just be messy, because he was pretty confused about what came next.

There was hardly ever a next in his life, but it sure seemed like there might be with her.

“Do you really want me to come and stay?” Her voice wasn’t flirty or teasing—or coaxing, for that matter. She was really asking if he was serious.

She hadn’t offered him the option of returning to her place for the night after feeding Stanley. Fish or cut bait, buddy seemed to be the unspoken message.

The fact that he didn’t want to leave her shocked the living hell out of him. He’d never had a problem leaving a woman’s bed before.

It was time to go with his gut. “Of course I do. Totally.”

She swung her legs out of bed. “Okay, then. But only because I’ve really been missing Stanley.”

He stared at her until she disappeared into the bathroom and then started to laugh. He could barely keep up with Claire, and he was beginning to think that wasn’t all bad.

* * *

The Promise Island Bridge was dark and quiet as Ry’s truck rolled across the short span. Through her open window, Claire could hear the slap of small waves against the pilings and the soft whistle of the wind through the steel structure. The peaceful scene couldn’t have been more different from the tense confrontation that had taken place there this afternoon. She breathed deeply of the tangy ocean breeze and tried to relax.

She should have been feeling a lot more laid-back than she was. In fact, all that sex should have made her virtually comatose. But the stupid lizard part of her brain had kicked into full preservation mode and kept shouting that she was going down a very dangerous path. That expecting anything serious from Ry was a fool’s errand.

She was sick of that dumb little reptile part of her brain. So damn sick of being afraid of her own life.

Ry had learned to live with risk. He’d even learned to relish it. It was time she gave something like that a try.

Girl, you’ve already started.

Ry reached across the console and laid his warm hand on her bare thigh. After she’d rolled out of bed, she’d quickly washed up and thrown on a T-shirt and short jean skirt, and then packed a small bag with overnight essentials. If she could manage to get out of bed at a half-decent hour in the morning, she’d do her rounds of the island houses she was looking after without going home first.

“It’s a pretty warm night.” He let his hand wander north a bit. “Might be fun to do a little star-gazing again.”

“Star-gazing, huh? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Well, you could gaze at the stars.”

“That’s assuming you were on top, of course.”

He laughed. “You’ve got a point. I’ve noticed that you do like to take charge.”

“Sometimes.” She sucked in a breath as his hand slid up another couple of inches. “And I do love looking at the stars.”

They drove in silence for another couple of minutes. His fingers were so temptingly close to where she wanted them to be that anticipation was practically making her jump out of her seat.

“You know I’ve got a race up in New Hampshire this weekend, right?”

She mentally blinked. “Uh, yes, of course. I’m booked to come over on Friday afternoon and stay until you get back Saturday evening.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been thinking about that. I could take Stanley to the kennel if…” He glanced over, his gaze dark and serious. “If you wanted to come to New Hampshire with me.”

“What?” she blurted. “I mean, wow, I sure didn’t see that invitation coming.”

“I think it’d be fun for you. For both of us. There’s an upscale inn on a lake that’s only a few miles from the track. Meg wouldn’t mind looking after your clients’ places for a day or two, would she? We could stay over till Sunday and really kick back once the race is out of the way.”

Claire’s head went fuzzy as she tried to focus on the logistics. Sadly, her brain seemed to be shutting out almost everything but ugly thoughts of the motorcycle race.

She cleared her throat. “That sounds…awesome. But you wouldn’t expect me to go to the race, would you?”

His hand slid from her leg as he flashed her a look of disbelief. “Seriously?”

Crap. She was messing this up.

“Look,” he went on, “I know you’re scared of motorcycles, but the closest you’ll have to get to one is when it’s on the trailer behind my truck. At the race, you can sit way up in the stands. There wouldn’t be even a hint of danger up there.”

Apparently he’d misunderstood her reluctance. “Ry, believe it or not, I wasn’t thinking about myself.”

He frowned as he turned into his driveway. “You’re worried about me?”

“Of course, you big idiot. It’s so dangerous.”

“Claire, haven’t I explained that it’s really not?” he asked with a trace of frustration. “Anyway, whether I will or won’t get banged up isn’t going to be affected one bit by whether you’re there watching or sitting at home with Stanley.”

No, but at least I wouldn’t have to see you crash and maybe even die.

This was the time to finally tell him the truth.

“I know, but there’s a reason why I act kind of squirrely about this whole issue.” She paused for several moments. “Ry, my best friend died in a motorcycle accident when we were at art school in Brooklyn.”

He glanced at her with a concerned frown. “Go on.”

“We were just minding our own business, walking down the sidewalk one evening and...” She sucked in a deep breath to steady herself. “And a drunk on a motorcycle mowed us down.”

Ry reached over and gripped her knee but didn’t say anything.

“I was hurt…bad enough, really…but Julie…Julie was…she didn’t make it.”

Nightmare images threatened to swamp her. Julie’s blood…her blood…pools of it on the dark street. So much.

He slowed almost to a stop. “Julie. You dedicated the song to her that night at the Dory.”

“Yes.”

The truck slowly rumbled past the first sensor, tripping a set of floodlights that bathed the trees and the driveway in a cool, white glare. “You don’t have to tell me more if it’s too painful,” he said quietly.

She forced herself to pull it together. Ry had shared a lot about his life. He deserved to know more about the tragedy that had changed the course of her life.

“Julie and I shared an apartment—we couldn’t afford one on our own, and we got along great. We’d had a couple of drinks at a local bar after dinner. We were celebrating her birthday.” Claire still remembered every detail, right down to the outfits they’d had on. Her friend had worn sparkly flip-flops that glittered when they passed under a streetlight. “Like I said, we were just strolling along, laughing about how Julie always got hit on in bars way more often than I did. She was so beautiful, Ry. And talented and sweet and kind.”

“You two must have driven all the guys crazy.”

Claire forced a small smile, even though she wanted to pound her chest, as if she could somehow dislodge the pain in there. “Thanks, but trust me, Julie was in a league of her own. Anyway, suddenly we heard this ungodly roar behind us. We both swung around and saw this guy on a motorcycle trying to swerve past a stopped car. He missed the car, but he was going too fast and lost control. The bike jumped the curb and was on us before we could even blink, much less try to dive out of the way.”

A blindingly bright, roaring Cyclops of a machine had slammed into them.

“It drove Julie into the brick wall behind us. I got off lucky because…because Julie took the brunt of the impact.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ry swore.

“I could barely move, but somehow I managed to get my arms around her. Somebody was screaming, and somebody obviously called 9-1-1 because paramedics got there really fast—like in a couple of minutes, I think.” She gave in to impulse and began rubbing her breastbone, right over her heart. “Julie whispered some words to me, but I guess I was in shock because my brain was all fuzzy and I couldn’t understand what she was saying. That drove me crazy for a long time. What if she was trying to tell me something really important? Something I needed to know.”

Julie’s garbled, breathy attempt at speech still haunted her. The memory lived inside her, refusing to let go. They were her dearest friend’s last words on earth, and she hadn’t been able to understand.

“I’m so sorry, Claire,” Ry said in little more than a whisper. “I can’t tell you how sorry.”

His kind words had her blinking away the sting of tears. “And then she just…just stopped breathing. The paramedics tried hard to revive her but...”

He stopped the truck and reached over to pull her into his arms. For a minute, she let herself take shelter in his comforting embrace. But she couldn’t hide there forever.

“I’m okay.” She had to pull herself together or she might as well get him to take her home so she could shove down a tranquilizer.

I will not give in to panic. Not again.

“I want to hear more about what happened to you,” Ry said, “but sometime later, when you’re ready. Right now, I need to get you inside and warm you up. And you really need a glass of wine.”

Claire hadn’t realized she was shivering. “Sounds good. But do you understand now? Understand why I don’t want to watch you race your motorcycle?”

When he hesitated, she wanted to cry.

“You don’t want to watch me kill myself. Yeah, I get it, but that’s never going to happen. I am not going to die in a motorcycle race, Claire. I promise.”

Okay, that made her mad. “And you know that for an absolute fact?”

“Look, I’m not stupid. I know there are no guarantees in life. The next plane I get on might crash. But statistically, I’m as likely to get killed driving my truck to the racetrack as I am in the actual race. I can’t live my life being paralyzed by fear of something that could happen but is really, really unlikely to.”

“Well, at least you have a sense of control on your bike,” she shot back. “I’d be just sitting in the stands watching. Completely helpless to do anything but wait for something awful to happen.”

He curled a hand around the back of her neck, gently cradling her. Her anxiety ticked down a notch.

“What happened to you and Julie was beyond horrible. But it wasn’t even an accident. You two were victims of a crime. The drunk driver was charged, wasn’t he?”

“Yes. He was eventually convicted of vehicular manslaughter in the first degree.”

“There you go. It only happened because the guy was drunk. He could have just as easily been driving a car or a pick-up truck like this one. You shouldn’t be freaked out by the fact that the asshole was on a motorcycle. That’s all I’m saying.”

She couldn’t deny there was some logic in that. But she also couldn’t deny how she felt. “I get that. But you don’t wake up covered in sweat after you dream of a big freaking motorcycle pinning you to a wall. And trust me, it’s not like I want to feel this way. I hate it.”

He looked chastised. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. But I’d bet my last dollar that you’d really like to get past all that.”

She threw up her hands. “Of course I would. I feel stupid and weak even talking about it.”

He shook his head. “Claire, you’re not stupid and you’re not weak. Just the opposite, in fact. Look, I know it’s not even close to being the same thing, but think about this for a minute. I would rather have done just about anything than get up on stage with you at the Lobster Festival. I hated even the thought of it. But I didn’t want to disappoint you, so I managed to suck it up. And damned if it didn’t turn out to be a lot better than I’d expected. I might not be jonesing to do it again, but it wouldn’t jam me up anymore. At least not like it used to.”

So much of what he said was right. She should try harder to face her demons—though of course those demons had less to do with motorcycles than with her never-ending fear of loss.

Ugh.

“How about this?” he added. “Just go with me to the race and try it for a while. If it turns out that you can only make it through part of it—even one lap—I promise I’ll understand. At least you’ll have taken a first step.”

“One lap? Seriously? That’s really all you’d expect?”

“No, I’d expect you to give it your best Claire Maddox effort. But if one lap winds up being all you can stand, then one it is.”

“And you wouldn’t get mad and sleep in the bathroom to get away from me?”

“Are you nuts? I would never kick you out my bed. And I never get mad at you.”

Despite how emotionally wrung out she felt, Claire had to softly laugh. “Did the Hermit of Promise Island really just make the claim that he never gets mad at me? Seriously?”

“Okay, I can get a wee bit growly at times, but it’s not like you can’t handle it.” He pushed open his door. “Now, let’s get in there before Stanley dies of hunger. After we feed him, we’ll have a drink to celebrate our upcoming trip to New Hampshire. I promise we’ll have a great time there.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, finally giving up the fight.

As Ry strode around the front of the truck, Claire could hardly believe he’d managed to talk her into something that was guaranteed to scare her to death.