Page 7 of Ryder (Heart River Valley: Montana Protectors #3)

Dana

Two days later, I’ve settled into a routine at the guest house. Wake up at dawn, bake what I can with limited equipment, field calls from Elise about repair estimates, try not to spontaneously combust every time Ryder stops by to “check on things.”

Which he does. A lot.

“More cookie testing?” His voice makes me jump as I pull another batch from the oven. He’s leaning in the doorway, fresh from ranch work, looking unfairly attractive with his shirt sleeves rolled up.

“Festival planning.” I focus on transferring cookies to the cooling rack instead of how good he looks. “Mrs. Henderson called again. Apparently, the competition portion is still on, flood or no flood.”

“Competition?” He pushes off the doorframe, moving closer. Always closer lately, like we’re being pulled together by some invisible force. “You didn’t mention a competition.”

“Best in Show category.” I try to sound casual. “It’s silly really, just a local thing...”

“Sugar.” His voice has that tone that makes my knees weak. “Nothing you bake is silly.”

I look up, finding him right there, close enough to touch. Since the flour fight, the air between us has felt different. Charged. Like we’re both waiting for something to break.

“It’s just...” I gesture at the simple kitchen setup. “Without my usual equipment, I don’t know if I can—”

“Hey.” He catches my hand, flour and all. “What do you need? Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

The simple certainty in his voice makes my chest tight. “Ryder...”

His thumb brushes my palm, sending shivers up my arm. “I mean it. Anything.”

Before I can respond, his phone buzzes. He glances at it and groans.

“Rachel?” I guess.

“Jake. Apparently, there’s a situation with the new calves.” But he doesn’t move away. Doesn’t let go of my hand. “I should...”

“Go.” I squeeze his fingers before stepping back. “The calves need you more than my baking crisis does.”

Something flickers in his eyes. “You sure about that?”

The question feels weighted with meaning I’m not ready to examine. “Go be a rancher. I’ll be fine.”

He hesitates in the doorway. “Dana?”

“Hmm?”

“Save me a cookie?”

I throw a dish towel at him, but I’m smiling. “Don’t I always?”

His answering grin stays with me long after he leaves, warming me like sunshine. It’s getting harder to remember all the reasons this is a bad idea. Harder to keep my walls up when he keeps looking at me like that.

Harder to pretend I’m not falling completely, irreversibly in love with him.

“Stop it,” I mutter to myself, attacking cookie dough with probably unnecessary force

“Focus on the festival. Focus on work. Focus on anything except how good Ryder Winston looks in those jeans...”

My phone chimes with Elena’s ringtone, providing a welcome distraction.

“Please tell me you have good news about the bakery,” I answer.

“Better.” I can hear her grinning. “I have a plan. How do you feel about a little friendly competition?”

“A bake-off?” I nearly drop my phone. “At the ranch?”

“Think about it!” Elena’s enthusiasm is contagious. “We invite the f estival committee to judge, set up stations on that big covered patio by the barn, showcase local talent... it’ll take pressure off Hearts & Grinds being closed AND give you a chance to practice for the competition.”

“That’s actually brilliant.” My mind is already racing with possibilities. “But where would we get all the equipment?”

“Leave that to me. I just have to make a few phone calls. Just be ready Saturday at noon.”

I can’t believe I’ve made such amazing friends in such a short time here. Elena, Rachel, and of course it all started with Elise giving me a job at Hearts & Grinds. I hang up feeling lighter than I have in days. At least until I turn around and run straight into a very solid, very warm chest.

“Sorry!” Ryder steadies me with hands on my waist. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Just came back for my...” His voice trails off as he realizes how close we are.

The kitchen suddenly feels very small. His hands burn through my thin t-shirt, and I can smell leather and sunshine on his skin.

“Your what?” My voice comes out breathier than intended.

“I don’t remember.” His eyes drop to my mouth. “Doesn’t seem important now.”

The air crackles between us. My hands somehow find their way to his chest, feeling his heart pound under my palm.

“Ryder...”

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, one hand sliding up my back.

“Don’t you dare.”

His mouth crashes into mine, hot and hungry and perfect. I make a desperate sound and push up onto my toes, threading my fingers through his hair as he backs me into the counter. He kisses like a man starving, like he’s been holding back forever and can’t wait another second.

I know exactly how he feels.

His tongue sweeps into my mouth and my brain short-circuits. Everything is heat and need and the taste of him. Finally. His hands roam my back, my sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

“Sugar,” he groans against my lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted...”

“Show me,” I gasp, and feel his whole body shudder.

He lifts me onto the counter in one smooth motion, stepping between my legs. The new angle lets me wrap myself around him properly, pulling him closer as his mouth blazes a trail down my neck.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs against my skin. “So damn beautiful.”

His hands find bare skin under my shirt, calluses dragging electricity up my spine. I arch into him, past caring about anything but getting closer.

The sound of a truck door slamming outside barely registers.

“Ryder?” Jake’s voice calls. “You out here?”

We freeze, panting against each other’s mouths.

“I’m going to kill him,” Ryder growls, pressing his forehead to mine. “Slowly. Painfully.”

I can’t help giggling, even as frustration courses through me. “Your timing needs work, cowboy.”

“Believe me, Dana.” He steals another quick, hot kiss that leaves me dizzy. “When I get you alone properly, timing won’t be a problem.”

The promise in his voice makes heat pool low in my belly. “Is that right?”

“Count on it.” One more kiss, gentler this time but no less potent. “Tonight? After the bake-off planning meeting?”

“Tonight,” I agree, already aching for his touch again.

He steps back reluctantly, running a hand through his thoroughly messed-up hair. The sight of him all rumpled and flushed because of me sends satisfaction singing through my veins.

“You, uh...” I gesture to his shirt, which is covered in flour handprints.

He glances down and grins. “Worth it.”

As I watch him head out to meet Jake, touching my thoroughly kissed lips, I have to agree.

Definitely worth it.

The ranch is quiet in the deepening twilight, stars just beginning to pierce the purple Montana sky. I change three times before settling on a simple sundress—trying not to think too hard about why I care what I wear to walk fifty yards to Ryder’s house.

The memory of his kiss still burns on my lips. The way his hands felt, the sound he made when…

The porch steps creak under my feet, interrupting that dangerous train of thought.

“Sugar?” Ryder’s voice carries from inside. “That you?”

“No, it’s a burglar who conveniently called ahead about bringing dessert.” I step into his living room, holding up a container of cookies. “A very considerate burglar.”

His laugh is low and warm as he emerges from the kitchen. He’s showered, his dark hair still damp, wearing a black t-shirt that does unfair things to his shoulders.

“Cookies and sass. Must be my lucky night.”

“That depends.” I set the cookies on his coffee table, hyper-aware of his presence behind me. “On whether you actually have dinner planned or if this was just an excuse to get me alone.”

His hands settle on my hips, turning me to face him. “Can’t it be both?”

Before I can form a witty response, his mouth is on mine. All thoughts of dinner evaporate as he walks me backward until my legs hit the couch. He tastes like coffee and desire, and I can’t get enough.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he murmurs against my lips. “About you. About that little sound you made in the kitchen...”

As if on cue, I gasp as his teeth graze my neck. His answering growl vibrates through my whole body.

“Like that.” His hands slide up my sides, leaving trails of fire. “Exactly like that.”

I pull him closer, arching as his mouth finds that spot behind my ear. Everything is heat and need and the perfect weight of him pressing me into the cushions.

Then his phone rings.

“Don’t answer it,” I breathe, running my nails down his back.

“Wasn’t planning to.” But then he glances at the screen and curses. “It’s Rachel. If I don’t answer, she’ll just show up.”

I flop back against the couch with a frustrated groan as he answers.

“This better be important.” His voice is deliciously rough. “What? No, I... slow down. What do you mean Elena’s planning what?”

I sit up, suddenly alert. The bake-off. Right. The whole reason I’m supposed to be here.

“Yeah, she’s here.” He runs a hand thr ough his hair. “We were just discussing... plans.”

I bite back a laugh at his expression.

“Fine. Yes. I’ll tell her.” He hangs up, looking torn between amusement and frustration. “So apparently my sister and your friend have decided to turn this bake-off into a whole thing. Live music, food trucks, the works.”

“That sounds...” Amazing. Terrifying. A real chance to prove myself. “Big.”

Something in my tone makes him look at me more closely. “Hey.” He sits beside me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “You okay?”

“Of course.” But I can’t quite meet his eyes. “It’s just... a lot of pressure. If I mess up in front of the whole town...”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Actually, I do.” His voice is warm with certainty. “Because I’ve seen how amazing you are. How passionate. Hell, you made my terrible kitchen put out professional-quality cookies.”

The simple faith in his voice makes my chest tight. “Ryder...”

“Besides.” He pulls me closer, nuzzling my neck. “Keep stress-baking like this and I’m going to need new jeans.”

I laugh despite myself. “Are you saying I’m making you fat?”

“Worth it.” His lips find mine again, softer this time. “Every extra pound.”

We trade lazy kisses until my head is spinning, until I’ve almost forgotten my fears about the competition. Almost.

“You know,” he murmurs between kisses, “it’s just a local thing. Not like it’s some big career moment.”

And just like that, the warmth in my chest turns to ice.

Because that’s exactly what it is. A chance to prove I belong here, that choosing baking over law school wasn’t a mistake. That I’m more than just a trust fund girl playing at small-town life.

But how can I explain that to someone who’s never had to prove they belonged? Who’s never had their dreams dismissed as a phase?

Before I can find the words, headlights sweep across the windows.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Ryder groans as car doors slam outside.

“Ryder?” Jake’s voice calls. “Your truck’s smoking again!”

This time, as we spring apart, the interruption feels almost welcome. Because suddenly I’m not sure what scares me more—the physical heat between us, or the way his casual dismissal of my dreams has made my heart crack.