Chapter Six
The first thing she did when she got home was call Penelope. She needed to process what the hell had just happened with Ryder, and the only way she knew how to do that was by talking. Penelope was the reasonable choice.
She was logical. Calm. Not prone to drama. But best of all, she didn’t live here.
There was a knock on the screen door before Penelope called out, “Sophie?”
“In the kitchen.” She rubbed her temples.
This was not good. Her heart still pounded, her skin still stretched too tight, and heat had settled low in her belly. And he’d barely touched her.
What if he kissed her? No, she couldn’t let that happen.
Penelope walked in, wearing jeans, flats Sophie identified as Frye, and a gauzy, sleeveless white top. Even casual, Penelope looked pulled together and neat. The only time she wasn’t neat was after Evan got his hands on her, so she’d been messed up considerably since they went public with their relationship. “Hey, what’s up?”
Sophie handed her a glass of iced tea. “I have a problem.”
Penelope sat down at the kitchen table and nodded. “Okay, let’s see what I can do to help.”
Just being in her presence calmed Sophie down. Made it possible to think. That’s how, back in the day, a couple of wild girls like her and Maddie had Penelope as a best friend. Someone needed to be the calm one, and that someone was Penelope.
Sophie took a seat across from her. “You can’t tell Maddie.”
“My lips are sealed.” She made a zipping motion and threw the imaginary key over her shoulder.
This wasn’t a betrayal of her friendship with Maddie. This was how things worked. When they wanted to say fuck it, throw caution to the wind, and get someone to go along with the crazy, Maddie and Sophie went to each other. When they wanted common sense and practical, sensible discussion, they went to Penelope.
Besides, Maddie lived here, and ever since she’d become domesticated she’d been all gung ho on trying to set people up. The last thing Sophie wanted was for her to start getting ideas.
She folded her arms and rested her head on them. “I think I have the hots for Ryder.”
Penelope laughed. “Oh, that was obvious the second he pulled up on his motorcycle.”
Her head shot up. “Why would you even say that?”
Penelope took a sip of her iced tea. “You stared at each other for a minute flat. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it was going to go down.”
Boo. She’d hoped it was a figment of her imagination. “I don’t like him.”
Penelope gave a delicate shrug of her shoulder. “I don’t think liking someone and attraction always go together.”
“He’s irritating. He argues with me. And he calls me stupid names.” Sophie threw up her hands, really getting into the spirit of the confession. “And he’s a cop!”
Penelope picked up her glass and grinned. “I know. I met him before.”
Sophie’s mouth fell open. “You met him before? And this is the first you’re telling me?”
“It didn’t seem relevant.”
“How could it not be relevant?” Being married to a Donovan boy, Penelope spent more time in Revival than Sophie had, but how could she have not mentioned Ryder?
Penelope rolled her eyes. “How was I supposed to know you’d develop a case of insta-lust for him?”
Sophie sucked in a breath. “You take that back. I don’t have insta-lust, I’m just ... just ... having an unfortunate chemical reaction to him.”
Penelope gave her a feigned look of sympathy and clucked her tongue. “Poor thing.”
“You’re such a bitch. Back to the topic.” Sophie blew out a breath. “He pulled me over and almost kissed me.”
“How did he look in his uniform?” Penelope asked.
Sophie blinked at her. “You’re missing the point.”
“I need a visual.”
“How do you think he looked in his uniform?” She groaned, shaking her head. “Like a god. When he stood over me with that gun holster wrapped around his hips, I had about five hundred fantasies.”
“That’s rough.” Penelope’s tone was filled with amusement.
“Did you know he has tattoos?”
“No, I did not.”
“On his shoulder and along his ribs.” Sophie sighed. “It’s like he was custom designed to bring out the slut in me.”
Her thoughts had veered so inappropriately, so jarringly pornographic, she’d had a hard time not breaking into a sweat as he stood there, staring down at her, looking broad in his uniform, those mirrored sunglasses highlighting his strong jaw. Sophie groaned. “He looked good in tan, Penelope. Tan! You know how much I hate men in tan. It should be outlawed.”
Her friend’s lips quivered. “I’ve heard the lecture.”
“Well, he made it look good. Like ‘strip me naked and do whatever you want to me’ good.”
“I see.” Penelope calmly clasped her hands on the table. “And he almost kissed you?”
“Yes. We’d been arguing. He called me walking, talking chaos and I took offense. One second we were in the heat of battle, and the next it was all smoldering lust and too-long looks. Then I started breathing fast and he touched my arm, and it was like an electric shock actually traveled across my skin. Up my arm, Penelope! He leaned down to kiss me but his deputy, a baby that looked like he’d stepped off The Andy Griffith Show, came up and ruined the moment.”
“How interesting.” Penelope nodded as though everything made perfect sense. But it didn’t make sense.
God, what was wrong with her? Why did fighting with him turn her on so much? How deranged was it that she got off arguing? Hadn’t she learned her lesson back in college? Why couldn’t she be a normal woman and like flowers and sonnets? She stared pleadingly at her friend, as though she could provide Sophie with the answers. “What should I do?”
“What do you want to do?” Penelope would have made a great therapist. She never gave advice but instead asked annoying, thought-provoking questions that made you want to hurl things at her before you hugged her.
Sophie knew what she’d wanted. She’d wanted Ryder to kiss her. She’d wanted him to put her in handcuffs and teach her a lesson. Ryder brought out that girl from her youth, and she was supposed to be above all that now. She was not supposed to want to star in her own porno of Breaking Bad Girls.
“You know guys like him and I don’t mix.”
“That was a long time ago. And how bad could he be? He’s a cop, an upstanding member of society. It’s hardly the same thing.” That was Penelope for you, always pointing out the obvious.
His standing wasn’t the problem. The way he made her feel, all wild and crazy, was the problem. She tried a more pragmatic approach. “He’s going to be my neighbor. I don’t need things to get awkward.”
“So there’s your answer,” Penelope said reasonably.
Sophie frowned. “You aren’t going to tell me to go for it?”
“What’s the point in that?” Penelope tilted her head as though in thought. “You’re right, he’s your neighbor, and this town is small. You’ll probably see him all over the place. It’s only a couple of orgasms. Nothing you can’t take care of yourself, right?”
Everything Penelope said irritated Sophie. Which meant she was 100 percent correct. Well, good. This was exactly why she’d called Penelope. To be sensible. She straightened in her chair. “You’re right. Guys who look like that are never good in bed. Girls fall all over themselves to sleep with them, so they never cultivate any skills. I’m sure my vibrator is much better than him.”
“I’m sure.” Penelope nodded as though she agreed with everything Sophie was saying, but the light of mischief shone in her eyes.
Sophie frowned, thinking of Penelope’s own gorgeous man, who clearly knew how to give orgasms. Despite Penelope not being much of a sharer, there was no way Evan was bad in bed. Sophie cocked a grin. “I’m sure Evan is the only exception.”
“I’m sure.” Penelope smiled before waving her hand in the air. “So ignore your attraction and focus on your many arguments for why sex with Ryder isn’t a good idea. If you keep reminding yourself, that should keep you in line.”
Suspicious, Sophie narrowed her eyes. “I sense a trap.”
“I don’t see why.” One dark brow rose. “Unless you’re looking to be talked into it.”
“Of course I’m not.” But she was. That’s what this conversation had shown her. That was the problem with her—guys like Ryder made her want to throw caution to the wind, and once she did, she slipped down the rabbit hole and lost herself. Guys like Ryder always went the same way: insane, spontaneous sex in every place that wouldn’t lead to arrest, obsession, angst, anger, hurt, and eventually, abandonment. All leading to one giant clusterfuck she wanted no part of.
Penelope nodded. “Okay.”
Well, now she knew the truth, and it only cemented her original instincts. Time to move off him as a subject. “It’s settled, then. I’ll avoid him while I’m here and focus on doing my job.”
“Sounds like a solid plan,” Penelope said, her lips curving into a soft smile.
“Exactly.” Sophie put her head in her palms and sighed. “I can’t believe I’m stuck here for six months.”
“It’s not that bad. Look on the bright side, you get to see Maddie all the time. You can slow down and enjoy yourself.”
Sophie raised her head and sniffed. “I was enjoying myself just fine back home.”
Penelope’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know. Between work and traveling all over the city for your blog, you had to be getting burned out.”
Sophie shook her head. “This from the ultimate workaholic?”
Penelope shrugged. “I’m just saying after your parents’ last visit you seemed to go into hyperdrive and never shut off.”
Granted, her parents’ last visit had driven her crazy. All three of them trapped in her one-bedroom apartment. Their incessant going on about how her materialistic capitalism was a disappointment to them. Like her being successful and stable was a failure. But that had nothing to do with it.
“My blog really took off after they left. It was a coincidence and had nothing to do with them.” Sophie put her hand on her chest. “And I was having fun doing something I loved.”
“You weren’t getting tired of going to all those clubs?” Penelope asked.
“No! Why would I?” Yes, maybe it had been a bit manic sometimes, but she’d still loved her life. She’d been busy, too busy to think about anything but how much fun she’d been having.
Just the way she liked it.
* * *
Ryder managed to avoid Sophie for the next twenty-four hours, but as the afternoon grew to a close he couldn’t avoid the inevitable any longer. Somehow he didn’t think she’d be too happy if he surprised her, so he sighed, vowed to keep his hands off her, and knocked on the screen door.
She emerged from the back of the house, where the bedroom was located, looking as fuckable as ever in a pair of frayed, cut off jean shorts and a yellow tank top with the word “princess” sprawled across her chest in glittery pink letters. Her hair was coiled into a messy bun on the top of her head, with tendrils spilling out onto her neck and framing her face.
God help him.
He told himself not to engage her and to refer to her by name. Get in, get straight to the point, and get out. He gave her his most charming smile. “Hello, darlin’.”
Okay, so he had no self-control.
Arms crossed, she glared at him through the screen. “What do you want, dumplin’?”
He laughed. “Darlin’ is way better than dumplin’.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re so clueless.”
Oh, but he wasn’t, and that was the problem. She liked that one in particular. Her eyes flashed every time he said it. Not that he intended to mention that piece of information and risk starting down a path that would probably lead to sexual innuendo, and him pushing her against the wall and ravishing her mouth.
The walk to her bedroom was a little too short.
And she was a little too tempting.
He put his hand on the door handle. “Can I come in?”
“Why?” The question was laced with suspicion.
“Because I wanted to talk to you about tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Sophie.” He lowered his voice. “Let me in.”
She sighed. “Fine, but keep your distance.”
A smile quivered at his lips, but he nodded, all serious like, and stepped into the living room.
Her gaze flickered down his body, and she bit her lip before shaking her head. “You’re in. What can I do for you?”
She could do any number of things, but all of them were off the table, so he kept it to business. “I assume you’re headed to Mitch and Maddie’s tonight.”
“Of course. The Chicago group leave tomorrow and it’s tradition.” Her eyes roamed over him again, as though she couldn’t help herself.
He was right there with her because his brain was half on the conversation and half on the filthy things he’d like to do to her. He cleared his throat. Stay on topic. “I’m going, so I wanted to warn you.”
She scowled. “Why are you going?”
He shrugged. “I was invited.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m friends with Mitch and Maddie, I don’t work tonight, and it’s a party.” He took a step toward her and she stepped back. The flare of anticipation in her gaze made him predatory, and hard. Which wouldn’t do at all.
“But . . .” She trailed off, her expression filled with something he could only describe as panicked excitement. “I don’t want you there.”
He needed to stay sharp here, to not give in to this insatiable desire to bait her, but then his attention shifted to her mouth. “Don’t you?”
She shook her head. “No. Of course not.”
There was something addictive about the way they sparked. It went beyond chemistry or attraction. Beyond sex.
He raised a brow. “It won’t make your night more exciting?”
She sucked in a little breath. “Don’t be an egomaniac.”
“It’s got nothing to do with ego.”
“How do you figure?”
Because she was consumed with the same lust he was, and being around her would sure as hell make his night a lot more interesting. But he ignored the question. He flashed her a smile. “Do you want a ride?”
Her eyes went wide and she sputtered, “Excuse me?”
He laughed. “To Mitch and Maddie’s. In case you didn’t notice, we live next door to each other. Seems kind of silly to go separately.” Of course, driving together was downright stupid, but he didn’t plan on bringing that up. They both knew the danger. Unfortunately, they both seemed to like danger a little too much.
A pretty pink flush stained her cheeks. “Yes, well, um . . .”
Awww. He’d flustered her. With another woman he’d let her compose herself and ignore her misinterpretation of his statement, but this was Sophie, so he grinned. “I’m happy to give you the other kind of ride too. Just say the word, darlin’.”
She gasped, her stance turning rigid. There was that temper.
“Not in this lifetime!” She stepped toward him and jabbed him in the chest with her finger. “I told you yesterday, I’m never having sex with you. Ever. So don’t even think about getting ideas in your head.”
She poked him again and he grabbed her hand. “The ideas are already there. It’s what to do about them.”
She snatched her hand away. “You will do nothing about them.”
He glanced down. Her nipples were hard, her skin flushed, her eyes bright. Since his brain had taken leave the second she’d opened the door, he responded with what would drive her most crazy. He shrugged. “All right.”
“All right?” Her lips were parted, ready.
He nodded. “All right, I’ll do nothing about them.”
She growled. Actually growled. It was adorable. “Good.”
He repressed his smile. “So are you going to ride with me or what?”
“No. I’ll go by myself.”
“Because you’re stubborn?”
“Because I want my freedom.”
He raised his brow. “Are you sure it’s not because you’re afraid to be alone with me?”
“Ha! You wish.” She huffed and put her hands on her hips. “You’re the most harmless man I’ve ever met.”
“Right back at ya, honey.”
“Stop calling me those names.”
He met her eyes. “Come with me.”
Her pupils dilated and he realized too late how that sounded.
He lowered his voice. “We’re going to the same place. Let me drive you. Look at the bright side, you can drink as much as you want and not have to worry about how you’re going to get home.”
Her brow furrowed. “Do you have a car? Or do you expect me to ride on the back of that motorcycle?”
“I have a car too.” His fingers twitched with the desire to put his hands on her. Christ, she made him hard. “We’ll take whatever you prefer.”
Her chest was a rapid rise and fall as she seemed to think through her options.
He wondered if she thought through the same options as him—namely, the things he could do to her in a car versus the things he could do to her on his bike. Things he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about.
“I’d think a car was safer,” she said, ripping him away from his list of depraved acts.
That depended on what kind of safety she meant, but he nodded. “The car it is.”
“Fine, I’ll go with you.” She held up a hand. “But only because I want to drink.”
“Of course. No other reason.”
“So we understand each other?”
“Perfectly.” His gaze dipped to her mouth before rising to meet her eyes. “We’ll meet out front at six.”
“All right.”
Neither moved.
God help him. Somewhere in the next couple of hours he needed to shore up his self-control. He was going to have to do something to take the edge off because he sure as hell couldn’t be around her like this and keep his hands to himself. “I’ll see you soon, Sophie.”
“Yes.” The muscles in her throat worked as she swallowed hard. “Soon.”
He turned and got the hell out of there.
* * *
Sophie spent the rest of the afternoon frantically unpacking to work off her excess energy and trying to figure out what to wear. Before Ryder showed up at her door, her outfit hadn’t been a thought in her head, but now she obsessed on it. Her brain told her to dress very conservatively—like maybe a nice pair of jeans and a blousy top—but her slut told her to make Ryder sweat.
As she stood, fresh from her shower, in a pair of panties and no bra, staring at her closet, she knew which part of her was winning. He made her want to be risky, be daring. And he was right—his being at Mitch and Maddie’s had upped the excitement quotient by a thousand.
Why did he have to be so hot and infuriating?
She blew out an exasperated breath, tried to grab a pair of jeans, and at the last second veered to the left, picking out a flirty, sexy Bohemian-style white sundress.
She’d bought it a couple of weeks ago, but hadn’t worn it. Nor had she tried it on. But it was perfect for tonight. Casual, and revealing, but it didn’t look like she was trying too hard.
Praying it fit, she slipped it over her head, and the second she turned to the mirror she was in love. It was in a wrinkled cotton fabric that fell high on her thighs, with a jagged eyelet hem. The spaghetti straps flattered the curve of her shoulders before the dress dipped down, scooping low across her cleavage. It looked awesome with her newly tanned skin. She paired it with a thick tan woven belt and UGG flip-flops to maintain the casual vibe.
More than satisfied with the dress, she spent the next thirty minutes working her hair into an “I’ve just been to the beach” mess and applying light makeup that highlighted her eyes, cheekbones, and mouth while looking like she barely had anything on.
At the end, she surveyed her results. Sometimes the gods smiled upon you, and this was one of those times.
Okay, so she wasn’t wearing a bra . . . but how could she with her dress?
It didn’t mean anything.
She was just being fashionable. She was a very fashionable woman.
Really.
She glanced at her clock. It was six, and she was right on time. Her stomach did a little dance, which she ignored. She was cool, not excited. Not brimming with anticipation.
She walked to the front of the house and out the door, turning to lock it before swiveling around to find him already waiting for her, watching.
She took two steps and froze, her throat going dry.
Holy mother of God.
She wasn’t religious, but she’d gone to Catholic school all her life, and she resisted the urge to make the sign of the cross and pray for strength.
She was going to need it.
He stood, wearing worn jeans, a black T-shirt, and his aviators and leaning against a kick-ass black classic Ford Shelby Mustang.
Sophie almost had an orgasm on the spot.
She could only stare at him, looking like a total badass, hotter than any man she’d ever laid eyes on.
And he stared right back.
While she couldn’t see behind his sunglasses, she could practically feel his long once-over. Heat and chemistry shimmered along the air, and somehow she finally managed to make her way down the stairs.
Out of all the cars, why did he have to have this one? Muscle cars were her weakness. Well, that and tattoos.
Hell, everything about this man was her weakness.
She stepped next to him and rubbed the chrome. He had a classic Mustang and a big, powerful Harley. This man was sent from hell. Voice awed, she said, “It’s so pretty. I can’t believe you own one.”
He smiled down at her. “1967.”
She shivered. “That’s the best year.”
He shook his head and sighed.
She licked her lips. “What?”
“Do you have to be perfect?” The question came out thick, shivering down her spine.
So. Much. Trouble.
She’d had men tell her a lot of things. She’d been told she was gorgeous. Hot. Fun. Smart. When someone dated as long as she had, she’d heard practically every compliment under the sun. But this, right here, was the best one ever. Thirty seconds in his company and they were already veering. She shrugged. “I could say the same for you.”
“Could you?” His voice had turned low, intimate.
Tilting her head, she smirked. “You’re a pretty lethal combination, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”
He shifted, turning slightly more toward her. “Maybe, but this isn’t typical.”
She wanted to ignore the trap he was laying for her, but she seemed unable to stop herself. “What does that mean?”
He moved closer, and she didn’t step away, even though she should. “It means this isn’t about thinking the other person is hot.” He crooked a finger and ran it down her bare arm. Gooseflesh broke out over her skin, and her nipples tightened. “Although you’re so fucking hot I can’t think straight.”
A low throb took up residence in her belly. She hissed, “Stop that.”
They were facing each other head-on now, and Sophie didn’t know how it happened, but they were much, much too close. He slid his hand over the roof of the car. “We seem to have a visceral attraction.”
They did. The most dangerous of all attractions. Something she’d experienced a few times, but Ryder blew every single one of them out of the water.
In an effort to maintain some semblance of sanity, she crossed her arms. “Which is why we are going to stay neighbors.”
“Darlin’, my head couldn’t agree more.”
While what burned between them might be impossible to ignore, she needed to be clear that nothing would come from it. “This isn’t a date. This is a carpool. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“I can do that.” He nodded.
She shifted away from him. “So we’re on the same page, right? Because crazy chemistry only leads to disaster.”
His jaw jumped. “Agreed.”
A frustrated disappointment settled in her sternum. She wanted him to fight her on it. Fight her, overpower her, and then take her. She wanted him to be a caveman. And the more she thought about it, the hotter she got.
She never learned, did she?
Hoping to clear the lust, she shook her head. “We should get going.”
“Sophie?”
She sucked in a breath at her name on his lips. “Yes?”
He glanced down at her chest, making her hyperaware of her peaked nipples. “Is there any way in hell I can get you to put on a bra?”
That would be rational. She looked up at him and shook her head. “No.”
“That’s what I thought.” He dragged his hand through his hair. “Christ.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He wasn’t going to say it, so she held out her hand. “Can I drive?”
“Not in a million years.”
She puffed out her bottom lip. “Pretty please?”
He growled. “Not going to work.”
“Next time.” She grinned.
“Never.”
“I’m driving this car.” She needed to check it off her bucket list. It had nothing to do with him.
His voice dropped. “What are you willing to do for the privilege?”
For one second she let herself say what she really wanted. She batted her lashes. “The things I would do to drive this car are illegal and depraved.”
He shook his head. “You are all kinds of trouble.”
What was it about him that clouded her brain? She licked her lips, unable to resist the flirtation. “You have no idea.”
He pointed to the car. “Get in before I throw you over the hood.”
“Like you’d ruin the paint.” She flipped her hand and turned her back on him, walking around the car to the passenger’s side.
He looked at her over the roof. In the late sun his cheekbones looked cut from granite. “It might be worth it.”
The impulse to say something wicked sat in her throat, but she’d indulged enough. So she smiled. “Ryder?”
“Yes, Sophie?” A muscle clenched in his jaw.
“I’m driving this car.”