Page 11 of Ryder (Heart River Valley: Montana Protectors #3)

Dana

Sunlight streams through unfamiliar curtains as I drift awake, deliciously sore in all the right places. The solid warmth of Ryder’s chest presses against my back, his arm draped possessively over my waist.

Last night flashes through my mind—how many times did we...? I lose count somewhere between the bedroom and the shower. And then the kitchen counter. And back to bed.

His lips brush my shoulder. “I can hear you thinking, sugar.”

“Just wondering if all that new equipment is still in boxes outside.”

His laugh rumbles against my back. “Probably. Though I like your priorities.”

I turn in his arms, breath catching at the sight of him all sleep-rumpled and sexy. Stubble darkens his jaw, and a mark I definitely left blooms on his neck.

“See something you like?” His voice is morning-rough in a way that makes heat pool low in my belly.

“Maybe.” I trace the mark with my finger. “Though we should probably get up. You must have ranch work...”

His hand slides down my back, pulling me closer. “Funny thing about being the boss. Sometimes you can delegate.”

“Ryder...” But my protest turns into a gasp as his mouth finds that spot behind my ear. “The equipment...”

“Will wait.” He rolls me under him, settling between my thighs. “This won’t.”

The first push of him inside me has us both groaning. Slower this time, sweeter, but no less intense.

“Perfect,” he murmurs against my lips. “So perfect for me.”

Morning sun paints his shoulders gold as he moves above me, and something in my chest goes tight. This feels different. Dangerous. Like more than just passion.

Like falling in love.

The thought should terrify me. Instead, it feels like coming home.

The afternoon sun warms the kitchen as I hum over my mixing bowl, unable to keep the smile off my face. All the new equipment has been unpacked and arranged perfectly—after Ryder finally lets me out of bed around noon.

My lips still tingle from his goodbye kiss. He had to check on the ranch eventually, though not before thoroughly... distracting me one more time against the kitchen counter.

“Someone’s in a good mood.” Elena’s voice makes me jump. She leans in the doorway with a knowing smirk. “Nice hickey, by the way.”

My hand flies to my neck, face flaming. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhmm.” She settles onto a barstool. “That’s why Ryder’s walking around the ranch looking like he won the lottery?”

I bite my lip, failing to suppress my smile. “We were busy unpacking equipment.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

“The equipment is unpacked!” I gesture at the pristine setup. “Eventually.”

“After how many rounds of ‘unpacking’?”

I throw a dish towel at her, but I’m laughing. Everything feels bright today, magical. Even the competition preparations seem more exciting than daunting.

“You’re glowing,” Elena says softly. “It’s a good look on you.”

“I’m just...” Happy. Cherished. Thoroughly satisfied. “It’s been a good day.”

“A good day that started last night?” Her grin is wicked. “Because Rachel said she saw Ryder heading this way after dinner and he didn’t leave until—”

“Don’t you have work?” But I can’t stop smiling, even as I attack my cookie dough with perhaps unnecessary vigor.

“This is more fun.” She snags a warm cookie. “So... details?”

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Fine. But at least tell me if the reality lived up to all that sexual tension.”

The memory of Ryder’s hands on my skin, his voice rough with need as he... I feel myself blushing.

“That good, huh?”

“Elena!”

“Your face says it all.” She hops off the stool. “But seriously. I’m happy for you both. It’s about time.”

As if summoned by our conversation, my phone buzzes with a text from Ryder:

Missing you already, sugar. Save me a cookie? Or better yet, save the cookie dough. Have some ideas about taste testing…

Heat blooms in my chest (and lower) as another text follows:

Though fair warning: might not make it to the oven this time.

“Oh yeah,” Elena laughs, reading over my shoulder. “You’ve got it bad.”

I do. And for once, that doesn’t scare me at all.

The sun is setting when I finally finish testing competition recipes. My legs are still a little shaky from this morning (and afternoon—Ryder had “stopped by” to check on me), but I can’t stop smiling as I clean up.

Voices drift through the open window from the main house’s porch. Jake and Ryder, sharing their usual evening beer.

“So...” Jake’s tone is teasing. “You and Dana finally figured things out.”

“Don’t start.” But I can hear the smile in Ryder’s voice.

“Hey, I’m happy for you. Just... you’re being careful, right?”

Something in Jake’s tone makes me still, dish towel frozen mid-wipe.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ryder’s voice has an edge now.

“Just that this is different from your usual... arrangements. Dana’s not some casual thing. She’s one of us, she’s part of the community...”

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because if this goes south...”

“It won’t.” But there’s something uncertain in Ryder’s pause. “We’re just... taking it slow. Seeing where it goes.”

The warmth in my chest turns to ice. Slow? Seeing where it goes? After last night, after this morning, after everything…

“Besides,” Ryder continues, “it’s not like we’re picking out china patterns. We’re having fun. No need to complicate things.”

The dish towel slips from my numb fingers. Fun. That’s all this is to him? Just fun?

Before I can process that gut punch, my phone buzzes. An email from the Food Network’s baking competition show—the one I applied to months ago, before the flood, before Ryder, before everything changed.

They want me to come to New York. For an audition. Next week.

I stare at the phone, then look toward the porch where Ryder is still talking about keeping things casual.

Maybe it’s time to remember why I chose this path in the first place. Not for love. Not for a man who sees me as uncomplicated fun.

For my dreams. My future. My chance to prove I belong in this world. With shaking fingers, I type my response: I’ll be there.

The slam of the main house’s screen door jolts me from my thoughts. Ryder’s boots crunch on the gravel path, heading this way. Coming to check on me like he has all day, probably planning to pull me into his arms, kiss me senseless, make me forget everything except how good we are together.

But his words echo in my head: Just having fun. No need to complicate things.

I quickly wipe my eyes, grateful I haven’t started crying yet. I pull up the recipe I’ve been working on. Casual. Uncomplicated. I can do that.

“Sugar?” His voice is warm honey in the doorway. “Something smells amazing.”

“Just testing competition recipes.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel.

His arms slide around my waist from behind, lips finding that spot on my neck that usually makes me melt. But now it just hurts, knowing this is all it means to him.

“Missed you,” he murmurs against my skin. “Been thinking about you all day.”

Just fun, his voice echoes in my head. Nothing complicated.

“I have news,” I say, stepping out of his embrace. The hurt look on his face almost breaks my resolve. Almost.

“Yeah?” He leans against the counter, trying to catch my eye. “Good news?”

“Remember that baking show I applied to? Before...” I gesture vaguely. Before you. Before us. Before I let myself hope for something more.

“The Food Network one?” His brow furrows. “In New York?”

“They want me to audition. Next week.”

Something flickers across his face. Fear? Loss? But his easy smile slides back into place too quickly for me to be sure.

“That’s... great,” he says, but his voice is tight. “How long would you be gone?”

“Just a few days.” Unless I make it on the show, I don’t add. Unless they offer me something more permanent.

“Well.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Guess we’ll have to make the most of this week then.”

The casual way he says it, like I’m just another fun diversion with an expiration date, makes something crack in my chest.

“Guess so.” I turn back to my baking, not trusting my face. “I should finish these test batches.”

“Dana...” His hand touches my shoulder, gentle in a way that hurts worse than indifference. “You okay?”

No. I’m not okay. I’m falling in love with someone who sees me as uncomplicated fun. Who can kiss me like I mean everything while telling his best friend I mean nothing.

“I’m fine.” I force a smile. “Just focused on work. You know how I get with recipes.”

“Yeah.” His thumb brushes my cheek, and it takes everything in me not to lean into his touch. “I know.”

He kisses me goodbye, sweet and slow, like he has all the time in the world. Like this means something. Like I mean something.

But as I watch him walk back to the main house through the gathering dark, I make myself remember:

This is just fun. Uncomplicated. Casual.

And I have a plane ticket to book.