“Ryder—”
“Oh, I see,” Paisley cut in, “because she should probably at least know anyone she might want to date first?” Paisley pressed. “Like, because of this whole break-in biz?”
That was it. My best friend was forever dead to me.
Aggression rolled through Ryder, and he eased back to standing and tossed his head to the side, making his neck crack.
“If that’s what Dakota wants, then yeah.” Something in his tone sounded of regret.
“Oh, right, good to know,” she drew out.
Ryder looked at me in what appeared to be disappointment.
Or maybe it was pain.
Then he turned and walked out.
FIFTEEN
RYDER
I was going to lose my goddamn mind.
Being in that house with her.
Knowing she was in the next room.
Sleeping in that bed.
Or in the shower with water streaming over her bare skin.
Or downstairs, padding around on those cute feet.
Or just fucking everywhere.
She’d infiltrated every crevice and had seeped into every crack.
Her warm spirit and that giving heart and that sweet body I was dying to get lost in when I knew it was the last thing I could do.
After a couple days passing with her being there, it was becoming clear that having her stay at my place was probably a terrible idea. It was something I wasn’t sure I was going to make it through, but I couldn’t stomach the alternative, either. Couldn’t stomach her alone and vulnerable.
But what had nearly sent me over the edge was walking in to find Paisley setting Dakota up on that dating app. The idea of it knocked through me like a hammer to the head.
The truth that one day, she was going to find someone else.
As she should.
That didn’t mean it didn’t nearly spin me into violence.
And kink?
“Fuck,” I grumbled under my breath and rubbed a hand over my face to keep the visions from assaulting my mind. I was at the shop, leaned over the drawing table and trying to focus on transferring the design for the security door for Dakota’s house into a more detailed sketch.
Working through the dimensions to ensure everything would line up right.
All while trying to get the painful visions out of my mind.
Before Dakota and Paisley could continue on about that bullshit, I’d left. I’d had to get the hell out of that house before I did or said something that I couldn’t take back.
So, I’d found myself here.
In my shop.
Where I could let my mind go and pour the tension into the art. Where I could believe I could build something better. Be something better. I wondered if that could ever be the truth.
If what I’d done could ever be eradicated or erased.
If the purpose behind it was enough or if it was just another pathetic excuse.
I had one of the rolling garage doors opened to allow for fresh air to flood the space, and I stilled when I heard an engine wind around the side of the building. A truck pulled up next to where I’d parked my bike.
I did my best not to cringe. I should be excited to see the guy, but after what I’d walked in on this morning, I felt frayed at the edges, the turmoil from what had happened at Dakota’s house making it ten times worse.
Still, I found a grin as I looked at my oldest friend as he slipped out of his truck.
“What’s up, man?”
I’d talked to Cody on the phone yesterday after he’d found out about the break-in at Dakota’s. I was surprised he hadn’t come running, but I knew he had a big job he was working on in the next town over.
I’d promised him I had it handled, and he didn’t need to worry, but that sure as hell didn’t mean he wasn’t going to.
“Not much.” He pulled his cap from his head, squeezing the brim between his hands. It was his tell. Something that he always did when he was irritated. “I stopped by your place and talked to Dakota. She said you’d needed to go into work for a bit, so I thought I’d swing by.”
“Glad you did.” I tossed the pencil to the slanted table, and I shifted to lean against a regular height one that sat to the side of it. I crossed my arms over my chest, watching him as he weaved his way through my shop.
Dude was a giant in the middle of the orchestrated mayhem, which was the way I worked best.
There were projects in varying stages of progress littered about, metal propped on workbenches and tables, raw pieces set in the stands for when I needed them. Every kind of welder known to man were set up at different stations, and there were a bunch of industrial saws and an elaborate paint station at the back.