Page 19 of No Rhyme or Roughing (The Golden Guardians Hockey Hearts #1)
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SYDNEY
I paced in front of the bench, back and forth. Back and forth.
Ryder had agreed with a simple, “Okay.” Now, I waited.
He was going to kill me for this plan.
The park was crowded today with tourists getting a glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge.
It was one of our typical hazy days, so the view across the bay wasn’t the best, but the bridge itself was still a magnificent sight.
It wasn’t just a bridge. I mean, it was, but it felt important.
I’d always driven across it in awe every time I went to Sausalito.
The crowd was good. We needed people.
Dancing wasn’t just about the steps, despite my entire career as a choreographer suggesting otherwise. It was also about feeling comfortable, brave, and taking risks. I used to come here as a teenager to practice before dance recitals. If I could dance here, I could get up on any stage.
A throat cleared behind me, and I turned to find Ryder standing there, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. He wore a long-sleeved black shirt stretched across his chest, the team’s name emblazoned in giant gold letters. His hair was damp, but the wind would dry it soon enough.
“Hi.” He didn’t move.
I blinked. “Hi.”
Just last night, we’d shared secrets, danced in the living room. And now, it was like we didn’t know each other at all. I refused to be embarrassed about what I’d shared, refused to dwell on it.
Right now being the exception, of course.
“Hi,” I repeated.
His lips hooked to the side. “We did that already.”
“So, we did.”
He breathed out a laugh. “You look beautiful.”
I wished he wouldn’t do that. Looking down, I took in my gray leggings and oversized green shirt. “Sure.” I turned, heading for the open space between a series of benches I’d already chosen.
“What are we doing here?” He ran to catch up.
“Dancing.”
“Here? In the park?”
I looked back over my shoulder when I reached the speaker I’d set out. “As if the ice is a less weird place. Come on, take those shoes off. We’re doing this barefoot.”
He did as I asked while I found the Benson Boone song I’d been looking for. I hit play, and his smooth voice vibrated from the speaker.
“Start.”
“Just… start?” He looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “Aren’t you going to teach me?”
“If you’re going to question everything I say, I’ll just…”
He caught me around the waist to stop me from leaving and spun me to face him. “Okay, fine. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Just what every choreographer yearns to hear from her clients.”
He didn’t let me go as he moved his hips, swaying me with him. I took his hand and spun myself out, then he yanked me back to him. I laughed as we began dancing together.
At this, he wasn’t so bad. No stepping on toes, no awkward fumbling. His feet were quick, his arms steady.
“See what happens when you loosen up?”
He smiled down at me. “You too. Why is it that dancing is the only time you seem…”
“Seem what?”
I’d heard this before. It was the only time I was sexy, confident, graceful.
“Happy.”
I stopped moving, shoving his hands away. “You don’t know me, Ryder. Don’t pretend you do.” Happy? What even was that? It had no tangible meaning.
He reached for me again, taking my hand. “I’m sorry. Don’t be mad.” His hips continued their side-to-side movement as he stuck out one lip in a pout.
Lifting a brow, I couldn’t help smiling, my chest loosening. I withdrew my hand from his. “Good. Your hips are good.”
“You like my hips?”
“No… I… Fuck you.”
He laughed, long and loud. We’d gained an audience now—just what I wanted for him—but he hadn’t seemed to notice. The song switched, and he started lifting his arms the way I’d shown him last night.
“You remembered.” I jumped forward on one foot, kicking the other toe against the ground, and then turned in a circle.
He tried to imitate me, but his back toe tripped him up, and his Everest height ended up horizontal on the ground.
I looked down at him, pressing my lips together to keep from laughing.
“Going to help me up?” he asked.
I reached a hand down, but I should have seen it coming. He yanked, and I sprawled onto the grass at his side, my belly aching from laughter.
Our audience dispersed, going back to their regularly scheduled gawking from afar.
Ryder turned his head, catching my gaze with his. “I’m sorry about what I said. It’s just, sometimes you seem…” He sighed. “Distant, I guess. Like what you’re showing us isn’t the real you.”
He hit so close to the truth that I sucked in a harsh breath.
“Did I say the wrong thing again? ”
“No.” He was so honest, so open. It made me want to be too. “I just know that people don’t really want what I have to say.” I shrugged, sitting up.
He followed. “I do.”
I looked sideways at him, really looked. At the way his eyes darkened, the tiny creases his face earned over the years. Perfect lips that said the perfect things. And also the wrong ones.
“I want every word that goes through your head, Syd.” His voice was quiet now, with the music still playing in the background.
This was too much, too everything. I scrambled to my feet to put distance between us. “Let’s play our game.” It was our out of any awkward conversation.
“Secrets.” He got up and put both hands on his hips, his eyes focused on his feet as he breathed deeply. “Okay.”
“I’ll go first. You were right. Dancing is the only time I’m truly happy because dance steps don’t need guarding like words.
They say everything I’m feeling with no one being able to tell me I’m too much, that nobody wants it.
When I dance, people do want it. Clients pay me for choreography; they beg for it. It makes me feel powerful.”
“Powerful.” He shook his head, still not looking at me.
“Your turn.”
One breath. Two. “A moment ago, on the ground, I really wanted to kiss you.”
His eyes lifted slowly, gliding up my legs, over my stomach and breasts, settling on my face. Every inch of my skin heated. It was the way I’d wanted him to look at me, but now it felt… invasive. I wasn’t ready for it.
He stepped closer. “Ever since that moment in the hall when you fake kissed—no, it was a genuine kiss for a fake reason—when you kissed me, I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”
I had no words, because I hadn’t thought of anything else since either. The way he tasted slightly of sweat and mint. How his large hands gripped me, pressed me into the wall, igniting every inch of me.
His phone ringing saved me from a response. With a groan, he pulled it out. “Teddy.”
Of course. My brother would know when his best friend and I were close to crossing a line we couldn’t uncross.
“You should get it.”
“Really?” He looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
I nodded.
His mouth formed a grim line as he brought the phone to his ear. “What?”
I turned off the music and gathered the speaker, not taking my eyes off Ryder.
He sighed. “Seriously? Yeah, we’re on our way.” He hung up and looked at me. “Teddy says there’s an emergency. We have to get home.”
My brother’s idea of an emergency was Rowan burning dinner, which rarely happened. But I still used it as a chance to escape. Without a goodbye, I booked it toward the parking lot, where my Prius shone in the sun like a beacon of safety.
Safety from what, I wasn’t yet sure.