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It was a good thing Lucas had turned his attention back to Nathalie, so he wouldn’t see the triumphant look Ryder knew must have shown in his eyes.
“Nathalie—“ Lucas began, ready to argue.
“I’m fine.” Nathalie cut him off with a hug. “I love you.”
Caldwell melted in front of Ryder’s eyes. He wrapped Nathalie in his arms. “I love you too, sweetheart.”
Yeah, mate. She’s dangerous, isn’t she?
Smart as hell and beautiful. A bat of those pretty brown eyes with their gold flecks and you wanted to lay the world at her feet.
Ryder sighed in his mind because he dare not let one escape his throat. Her father might be dead, but another man had stepped up to take his place. A formidable one at that. He needed to mind himself.
Lucas gave Ryder a look that promised a painful death if he disobeyed orders. “You take care of her.”
“I will.”
Nathalie’s godfather kissed the top of her head, then disappeared out the front door as brusquely as he’d arrived.
“We, ah, should eat.”
Ryder’s body tightened at the guarded tone in Nathalie’s voice.
She returned to the kitchen and prepared two plates of the BBQ, coleslaw, and her cornbread. Her shoulders were set in rigid lines, and she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Here.” She handed him the plates. “Take them to the dining room table, please.”
Ryder would, but he wasn’t setting them across from each other. There was enough distance between them already. The plates landed on the table with a clatter, sending shards of coleslaw onto the polished wood surface. He should be thankful for her restraint because his had gone fucking AWOL.
Nathalie brought out napkins and silverware, her steps hitching when she saw where he set the plates. She took the seat next to him like he wanted, but there was an invisible wall of tension between them he wasn’t sure how to breach.
“What happened earlier was…a mistake. We let old memories take over.” She still wouldn’t look at him.
His stomach knotted. She’d kicked him to the curb once before. He’d be a bloody fool to let himself feel anything for her and have her do it again. “You’re right.” He took a bite of cornbread, barely tasting it. “It won’t happen again.”
They ate the rest of their meal in strained silence.
Nathalie stood and gathered her plate and glass. “If you’re planning to stay, make yourself at home, but I’m going upstairs. It’s been a long day.”
Ryder studied the watercolor on the wall. Her mother’s painting of the Tidal Basin. “Where are your paintings?”
Her brows furrowed as she finally met his gaze. “What are you talking about?”
“You have none of your art displayed in your home.”
Was it his imagination, or did her lips tremble before she sucked them in? He definitely wasn’t imagining the sadness darkening her eyes.
“I haven’t painted in a long time.” She took her dishes to the kitchen.
He followed. “You used to love to paint.”
Tell me why you stopped.
“I used to love a lot of things.”
What the hell did that mean?
Christ. She looked fragile. Her head bowed, shoulders slumped.