Chapter Seventeen
Lindsay
There were times when Radiohead’s “Creep” went through my head, the lyrics “I don’t belong here,” playing on repeat.
Standing in a room big enough for a hockey rink—if all those pesky tables were removed and no one minded that the chandeliers and wall sconces would end up destroyed by pucks—opulence dripping off every surface, the song was blaring. I was also questioning my fuchsia minidress. Far too poor for a shopping spree, or whatever it was called when you couldn’t even afford one dress—shopping spre?—anyway, I’d dug this number out of my closet. It was from my puck bunny days, back when showing off my assets and gaining attention was the main goal.
Confession #11: Tiny dresses, the even tinier underwear needed to pull them off, and super-high heels aren’t exactly comfortable, especially if you’re out of practice wearing them.
*side note: The heels and thong combo do nice things for your legs and your ass, even if they also left me dying to kick off my shoes and pick a wedgie that would never go away in front of all these fancy-pants people.
Most every other woman in the room wore a full-length gown that screamed money, their jewels accenting the money aspect.
My courage and can-do attitude faded and my steps faltered.
Ryder put his hand on my elbow, steadying me. “You okay?”
“It’s…wow.”
“It’s always a bit overwhelming at first. Then you get used to it.” He slid his arm around my waist and drew me close. “I know I told you that you looked nice when I picked you up, but I was holding back. You look stunning. Like I forgot my name for a few seconds when I first saw you, and I’m starting to lose my grasp on it again now.”
The compliment sent an exquisite swirl of electricity through me, and I decided that having sore feet and a perma-wedgie was a small price to pay to get that kind of reaction from Ryder. “In a place like this, I’m guessing you want to go by Ox.”
He chuckled, and the sound danced across my tense muscles and loosened them.
“While we’re on the subject, this whole look you’ve got going on…” I gestured to the suit, crisp white shirt, and black tie. As polished as the tailored suit was, it couldn’t hide how massive he was, and there was something very hot about the barely contained badass vibe. “Damn.”
“Damn, you say?”
I nodded, curled closer to him, and ran my hands down his lapels. “You sure clean up nice. Not that I mind when you’re dirty.” Oops, that last bit sort of popped out.
Heat filled the eyes homed in on me, spreading that fiery blaze through every inch of my body. “I’ll keep both of those things in mind.”
Honestly, ever since our easy night on the couch, I was constantly anticipating the next time I’d see him. My stomach had completed a full somersault when he’d come into the newspaper office and asked me to attend this event with him. He’d claimed he was doing a shitty job of selling it, but with how hot he’d looked, his hand rubbing his neck in a way that only accentuated the muscles in his arms, I’d wanted to throw myself at him and say I didn’t care about lines anymore. So obviously going somewhere with him was a no-brainer. Even if I should use my brain and listen to it when it said spending time together would only make my attraction to him worse.
“Ryder.” A brunette in a glittering gold gown approached. Her smile turned stiff when she noticed me.
I should’ve at least put a jacket over the dress.
Suddenly I felt naked, and with the added judgment coming from the woman I assumed was Ryder’s mom, I was rethinking my choice of outfit all over again. Too late to do anything about it now.
“Mom.” He gave her a polite hug and kissed her cheek. Then he turned back to me. “This is Lindsay. Lindsay, this is my mom, Sharon Maddox.”
She studied me, her lips pursing. “You look so familiar,” she said, and I couldn’t get a good read on her. I’d experienced plenty of disdain and passive aggressive behavior from women of all ages before, but this wasn’t quite that. Clearly she wasn’t thrilled with my being here, but she did appear to be trying to place me.
“This is definitely my first time at an event like this,” I said.
“Maybe I know your parents?”
I shook my head. “Neither of them live here, either.” I didn’t think now was the time to go into the fact that I didn’t actually know if my dad did, because that’d require knowing him in the first place.
“Oh. Well.” She casually tossed her hand up. “Maybe you just have one of those faces.”
How did one properly respond to that?
“Honey,” Sharon said, placing her hand on Ryder’s arm—the one not wrapped around my waist. “Can I borrow you for a moment? I need to introduce you to some people. I’m sure Lindsay understands?”
Sure. Lindsay understood. She also loved when people made statements she couldn’t contradict without looking like a bitch. “Totally. I’ll just go—”
“I’d rather she come along,” Ryder said, his arm remaining firmly around my waist. “She might as well meet everyone, too.”
Sharon looked like she wanted to argue, but instead her smile turned sharper. “Of course. That’s fine.”
It quickly became clear that had Ryder been unaccompanied, both his mom and the freaking first lady of Connecticut were hoping to throw the governor’s daughter at him. Caroline Cunningham didn’t match him at all. For one, she was way too demure. And timid. Ryder needed someone who’d speak her mind.
Someone like me.
Except for not actually me, of course. The stab of jealousy that poked at me called bullshit. The other women in the near vicinity who were ogling him only sent more of the toxic emotion pumping through me. I wanted to wrap myself around Ryder and show everyone he was mine, the same as I’d wanted to do at the Quad.
What else I noticed throughout the conversation was how quiet Ryder was. He didn’t say much besides “nice to meet you,” and “this is Lindsay” as we met several more people. My editor position at the paper came up, and at least that helped create a few questions that I knew how to answer without totally feeling out of my league.
During the dinner, as we were being served course after course, he was back to the stoic, quiet guy I first met. Only this was a step further—almost robotic, really, with a rehearsed script.
Occasionally, he’d flash me the tiniest of smiles or squeeze my hand, but I missed the guy who made unexpected jokes and gave as good as he got. I understood why he’d go quiet and emotionless at events like this. The conversation topics were total snoozefests.
A guy who couldn’t have been much older than I was went on and on about how important he was in his company. To hear him tell it, they couldn’t function without him, and that’s how you paid for a boat that you hardly had time to take out. Was he right, or was he right? Insert condescending, embarrassment-of-riches chuckle here.
I leaned in to Ryder and whispered, “You could take him. Get him on the ice and slam him against the boards a couple of times. I bet that would cut the bragging short.”
The corner of Ryder’s mouth lifted. “I’ve actually been imagining doing just that for the past ten minutes.” His eyes held a challenging glint when they met mine. “You know, if you were willing to break your rule about mixing worlds and crossing streams, you could watch.”
“One, that guy would pee himself if you put him on the ice, and two, last time the worlds mixed, it didn’t go so well. I just can’t do it.” I’d tried to keep it light and joking, but my voice cracked on that last sentence.
Ryder curled his hand around my knee. “I understand.”
“You guys seem chatty,” Sharon broke in, giving us that same plastic smile she’d been wearing all night. “I’m assuming that with your job at the paper, and Ryder’s spot on the hockey team, it’s hard to keep up with your college courses.”
“It can be,” I said. “Luckily, I have a good math tutor to help me out.” I winked at Ryder, happiness tumbling through me when he broke into his first full smile of the night.
“I’m surprised Ryder has time for that with hockey. Apparently he doesn’t have time for haircuts anymore, either.”
The smile fell from Ryder’s face and irritation bubbled up inside me. Did she like keeping him quiet, her trophy child that she could show off to make her look better? I reached up and ran my hand through his hair. “I like it on the longer side. It’s sexy.”
Someone cleared their throat, as if saying the word sexy was going too far. Or maybe it was the way my body bumped into Ryder’s as I dragged my fingernails across his scalp and ran my hand down his freshly shaven cheek. Either way, I didn’t care. There was some benefit to not belonging somewhere.
Ryder brought my hand to his lips and kissed my open palm. Butterflies erupted, and they fluttered even more when he folded my hand into his and set our joined hands in his lap.
The urge to push things to the inappropriate level called to me, but I didn’t want to give Ryder the wrong idea just to shock some life into this party and these people who talked about money like it was a burden. I’d love some of that burden to float my way.
In an effort to play nice, I turned to the rest of the table and forced myself to say something complimentary about the event. “The food’s amazing, by the way. And this table setting is simply gorgeous.” I wasn’t sure what else to say about a political fundraiser, but it got everyone talking again and the attention off Ryder.
As the topics bounced around, each one as boring as the next, I leaned my head on Ryder’s shoulder.
He curled me closer and then it didn’t matter what anyone was talking about. The way he peered down at me and the fact that he was smiling, a more carefree vibe now in place, was all the victory I needed.