Page 2 of Ryder (Heart River Valley: Montana Protectors #3)

Ryder

“You’re an idiot.” Jake doesn’t even look up from the fence post he’s securing. “You do know that, right?

“Not sure what you mean.” I drive another post into the ground with maybe more force than necessary, definitely not thinking about the way Dana’s cheeks flush pink this morning when I almost... but didn’t... again.

“Let’s see.” My best friend (and soon-to-be-former best friend if he keeps this up) ticks points off on his fingers.

“You’re at that bakery every morning. You spend more on pastries than your truck payment.

You light up like a damn Christmas tree every time she walks into a room.

And yet somehow, you still haven’t asked her out. ”

“It’s complicated.”

“Right. Because ‘Hey Dana, want to have dinner with me?’ is quantum physics.” Jake rolls his eyes. “Even Elena’s noticed, and she’s been distracted with the house renovations for months.”

The Montana sun beats down on my shoulders as I line up the next post. Physical labor is good. Simple. Nothing complicated about wood and wire and honest sweat. Unlike the way my chest gets tight every time Dana smiles at me, or the way I have to stop myself from reaching across that counter and…

“She’s not interested.” The words come out gruffer than I mean them to. “And I’m not looking for anything serious.”

“Bullshit.” Jake’s boot connects with a loose clod of dirt, sending it flying. “You haven’t been on a real date in months. That thing with the yoga instructor doesn’t count.”

I wince at the memory. “How was I supposed to know she was into crystal healing?”

“The point is, you picked her because you knew it wouldn’t work out. Just like all the others.” He gives me that look that means he’s about to go all annoyingly insightful. “You’re not fooling anyone, man. Especially not yourself.”

The problem is, he isn’t entirely wrong. The dating app disasters, the carefully casual flirting, the way I keep everything light and easy... it works. It’s safe. No one gets hurt when you never let them close enough to matter.

Except Dana has somehow slipped past all my defenses without even trying.

“She’s got enough going on without dealing with my issues.

” I check the wire tension, focusing on the task instead of the memory of her in that kitchen, flour on her cheek, looking so damn content it makes my chest ache.

“You’ve seen how dedicated she is. How much working at that bakery means to her. ”

“Yeah, and I’ve seen how she looks at you when she thinks no one’s watching.” Jake reaches for the wire cutters. “Like you’re better than every pastry in that display case.”

“She looks at everyone like that. It’s just who she is.” Sweet and warm and genuine in a way that makes me want to gather her close and protect her from everything. Not that she needs protecting. Dana’s stronger than anyone knows. “Besides, after Sarah-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Jake actually throws down his tools. “It’s been seven years. Sarah ghosting you was the best thing that could have happened, considering she ran off with that dickhead Trevor. You’re not twenty-two anymore, and Dana isn’t Sarah.”

No, she definitely isn’t. Sarah had been all calculated moves and careful plans, right up until she decided those plans didn’t include waiting around for a deployed Marine. Dana... Dana is real. Passionate about her work, generous with her smile, quick with a comeback that keeps me on my toes.

Dangerous, in other words.

“The festival committee asked her to cater next month,” I say instead of addressing any of that. “Offered to help with deliveries.”

“Smooth. Real smooth.” Jake shakes his head. “Because nothing says ‘I’m interested in you romantically’ like offering to be her delivery boy.”

“Shut up and hold this wire.”

We work in silence for a while, falling into the rhythm we’ve perfected over years of friendship.

Jake’s been there through everything. Sarah’s betrayal, my eventual discharge from the Marines, building the ranch back up with Dad.

He’s earned the right to give me shit about my love life, or lack thereof.

Doesn’t mean I have to like it.

“You know what your problem is?” he says finally, because of course he can’t let it go.

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

“You’re scared.” He holds up a hand when I start to protest. “Not of dating. You’re scared of how much you actually like her. How real it could be.”

The truth of it hits like a punch to the gut. Because yeah, that’s exactly what terrifies me about Dana. Not just her beauty or her sass or the way she hums while she bakes. It’s the possibility of something genuine. Something that matters.

Something that could break me if it goes wrong.

“Elena said the pipe under her sink is acting up again,” I say, changing the subject.

“Garrett looked at it?”

“Nice deflection. But yeah, he’s heading over after we finish here.” Jake gives me a sideways look. “You know her apartment’s right above the bakery, right? Old building, old pipes...”

“Don’t even start.”

“I’m just saying, if something were to go wrong...” He tries and fails to hide his grin. “She might need a place to stay while repairs are being done. And you do have that empty guest house.”

“You’re a menace.” But my mind is already spinning with possibilities. Dana in my space, making breakfast in my kitchen, maybe wearing one of my shirts…

Dangerous thoughts. Very dangerous thoughts.

“Speaking of menaces, incoming.” Jake nods toward the approaching truck. “Elena’s bringing lunch.”

“Great. Because one of you giving me grief isn’t enough.”

But I’m smiling as I say it, watching my sister’s truck kick up dust on the access road.

Maybe she’ll have news about Dana’s plans for the festival.

Not that I’m going to ask. Not that I’m thinking about how good she looked this morning, or how much I want to finally taste if her lips are as sweet as her smile.

Yeah. I’m in trouble.

Big trouble.

Elena hops out of her truck carrying a large cooler, smiling at Jake. “Brought sandwiches from Mary’s. And coffee.” She holds up a familiar Hearts & Grinds cup carrier. “Dana added some new chocolate croissants to the menu. Said she’s ‘testing recipes’ again.”

Jake shoots me a knowing look. “Interesting timing. Wasn’t someone just saying they needed to cut back on sweets?”

“Weren’t you just about to shut up and eat your lunch?” I grab the coffee Elena offers, definitely not thinking about how Dana always remembers exactly how I like it.

“Oh, and Dana wanted to know if you’d look at her stand mixer.” Elena settles onto the tailgate, unwrapping her sandwich. “Says it’s making a weird noise.”

“I can take a look.” The words come out too fast. “I mean, if I have time. Later. After I finish here.”

“Smooth,” Jake mutters.

Elena’s eyes dart between us. “Did I miss something?”

“Your husband’s just being an ass.” I take a long drink of coffee, remembering how Dana’s fingers brushed mine when she handed over my breakfast. The spark of connection had been enough to make me almost—almost—ask her out right there.

“We’re discussing Ryder’s inability to form complete sentences around a certain baker,” Jake supplies helpfully. “And his elaborate plans to avoid admitting he has actual feelings.”

“Oh, that.” Elena’s smile turns wicked. “You mean like how he specially ordered those vanilla beans from Thailand for her birthday but made Rachel give them to her so it wouldn’t seem too obvious?”

“I hate both of you.”

“Or how he scared off that guy from the restaurant supply company who was flirting with her?”

“He was being pushy,” I mutter. “She looked uncomfortable.”

“Or how about last week when-”

“Don’t you have a house to renovate?” I cut in, but there’s no real heat in it. They aren’t wrong, is the thing. Every time some guy shows interest in Dana, I get this urgent need to be nearby. Just to make sure she’s okay, I tell myself. Just being protective, like I would for any friend.

Right. Because friends memorize each other’s coffee orders and spend hours fixing kitchen equipment just to see her smile.

“The thing is,” Elena says more gently, “everyone can see how perfect you’d be together. You make her laugh. She makes you light up. Why fight it?”

Because perfect things don’t last. Because the moment you admit how much you want something is the moment you give it power to hurt you. Because Dana deserves better than a guy with more baggage than the airport lost and found.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Actually, it is.” Jake wads up his sandwich wrapper. “You’re just making it complicated because you’re-”

A phone rings, cutting him off. Elena pulls hers out, then grins. “Speaking of Dana...” She answers, putting it on speaker. “Hey! We were just talking about…What? Slow down, honey. What’s wrong with the pipe?”

My head snaps up at the panic in Dana’s voice through the speaker.

“It just burst! There’s water everywhere, and the basement’s flooding, and Elise and Rhett are on a plane-”

I’m moving before she finishes the sentence, grabbing my keys. “Tell her I’m on my way. Jake-”

“Go.” He’s already packing up tools. “I’ll finish here and call the plumber.”

I break every speed limit between the ranch and town, trying not to think about Dana alone dealing with a disaster. Trying even harder not to think about how this might be exactly the excuse I need to finally do something about these feelings.

Or how terrifying that thought is.

Because Jake’s right. I’m scared. Scared of wanting something real. Scared of letting someone in close enough to matter. Scared of the way Dana makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, some things are worth the risk.

“Get it together, Winston,” I mutter, turning onto Main Street. “It’s just a burst pipe.”

But as I park in front of Hearts & Grinds and see Dana standing outside looking worried and beautiful and somehow making even crisis management seem graceful, I know I’m lying to myself.

It isn’t just a pipe.

It isn’t just anything.

And sooner or later, I’m going to have to decide if protecting my heart is worth missing out on something that could be extraordinary.

But first, I have a bakery to save.

I grip the steering wheel, taking a moment to just watch her through the windshield.

She’s directing customers away from the door with apologetic smiles, her curly dark hair escaping its usual neat bun, that little worry line between her brows that always makes me want to smooth it away with my thumb.

Even in crisis mode, she looks... right.

Like she belongs here in Heart River, even though her mannerism and that hint of a New England accent sometimes remind me she comes from a different world.

The thing about Dana is, she makes everything better just by being near it.

Not in that fake, society-perfect way Sarah cultivated, but in this genuine way that sneaks up on you.

The way she remembers everyone’s kids’ favorite cookies.

How she slips extra muffins to the high school kids during finals week.

The quiet strength in her hands as she turns simple ingredients into something magical.

And yeah, maybe that’s part of what scares me. Because Sarah was all surface shine, easy to understand and ultimately easy to lose. But Dana? Dana has layers. Depths. She’s sugar and spice and everything I don’t deserve but can’t stop wanting.

Jake’s words echo in my head: “You’re scared of how real it could be.”

Damn right I’m scared. Because every morning when I walk into that bakery, it gets harder to pretend I’m just there for the coffee.

Harder to keep my distance when all I want is to pull her close and find out if she tastes as sweet as the treats she bakes.

Harder to maintain that careful wall between us when she looks up at me with those big hazel eyes and makes me forget every reason why this is a bad idea.

The truth is, I haven’t been looking for anything real. I’ve convinced myself I’m better off keeping things casual, keeping people at arm’s length where they can’t disappoint me. Where I can’t disappoint them.

But Dana... she makes me want to try.

Makes me want to be the kind of man who could deserve someone like her.

Someone who chose following her dreams over following expectations.

Someone who works hard and cares deeply and somehow still manages to see the best in people.

Even a jaded ex-Marine with trust issues and a bad habit of hiding behind humor.

Water is starting to seep under the bakery’s front door now. I need to move, need to help, need to be the capable, confident guy everyone expects me to be. But for just one more moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to stop fighting this attraction. To finally take that risk.

To let myself fall for the girl who’s been quietly stealing my heart one cinnamon roll at a time.

“Stop being a coward,” I mutter, finally reaching for the door handle. “She needs help, not your emotional crisis.”

But as I step out into the Montana sunshine and see her face light up with relief at the sight of me, I know I’m only fooling myself. This thing with Dana stopped being simple a long time ago.

And maybe, just maybe, that isn’t such a bad thing.