Page 26 of Wicked Games
“Technically, both your acts of kindness occurred this morning.” When it was obvious I wasn’t following, Ryder said, “Picking me up at the club was one, and getting out of bed before I could do something I would regret was the other.”
“Oh,” I replied, sounding like I’d had the wind knocked out of me. Ryder’s words had packed a punch, and it dawned on me just how much work lay ahead. I was resolved that someday he wouldn’t use my name and the word regret in the same sentence. “You’re welcome.”
Ryder stepped aside, and I exited the bathroom in search of clothes for both of us to wear. It was only when I heard the bathroom door shut behind me that I realized I was holding my breath. Why? Was I waiting for him to call me back and tell me he’d changed his mind about us only being professional allies? It wouldn’t be that easy, nor should it be.
I quickly dressed in a pair of sweats and a comfortable tee then left similar items for Ryder to wear on the bed. I’d ordered the food, retrieved my laptop, and read halfway through a scathing email Banks had sent regarding the length of my investigation by the time Ryder appeared in the sitting area of the suite. I had to bite my lip from saying something stupid like “I love seeing you in my clothes.”
Ryder looked at my shirt, and his eyes widened in surprise. “You’re wearing my shirt,” he said in a voice that was half accusatory and half awe. “It was my favorite shirt.”
I looked down at the faded “Versailles” in navy blue print on the light blue cotton. “I bought it for you during one of our weekend trips.”
“I thought I’d left it behind in Cairo, but you stole it.” Somehow he almost sounded angrier than when he thought I was an art thief. “Take it off right now. I want it back.”
“Come and get it then,” I said, prepared to fight to the finish. This shirt was the one thing I refused to leave behind because it had belonged to Ryder. I could remember every time he wore it, and the way his scent clung to it for weeks after I took it with me. I would admit to no one the tears I shed when I was forced to wash the shirt.
“You think I won’t?” Ryder asked, advancing.
“I think you’re mad about something else and blaming it on the fact I reclaimed the shirt I bought for you in France.”
“Reclaimed?” he asked scathingly. “Is that the same as ‘recovering’ priceless artifacts?”
“There you go with those cute air quotes, Ry. I don’t know when you started using them, but I find it irresistible.”
“How can anyone think air quotes are cute? They’re supposed to be condescending. You have problems.”
“I have ninety-nine problems, but your use of air quotes isn’t one of them. You’re making it very difficult for me to behave, so stop distracting me.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” I said. “What were we discussing before you flaunted your air quotes at me?” I tipped my head to the side like I was rewinding our conversation in my brain. “Oh yes. You mentioned priceless artifacts. You and I both know there’s no such thing as priceless when it comes to material things. There’s always a value placed on art.”
“What did you mean when you said I was mad about something else?”
“You’re pissed off because you want me even though you can’t trust me. You’re angry because I was the one you turned to last night when you were hammered, and you—”
“How’d you even know where I was?” he asked, cutting me off. “Where the hell is my phone?”
“It’s on the spare charger in the bedroom. I don’t think you want to read your text messages though.”
Ryder didn’t listen to me. He stomped into the bedroom rather than coming at me to get his shirt back. I stroked the soft, worn cotton like I was petting a cat.
“Fuck!” Ah, he’d read his texts. “Pretty sure I want to die now.” Most of his messages to me where random gibberish but an occasional word managed to form through his drunken tapping. I saw the words tie, baby, and get me. It was enough for me to treat it like the Bat Signal.
“No,” I said, “that will come when you see your social media accounts.”
“God no.” I heard Ryder groaning for a few seconds as he looked through his accounts. He finally returned to stand in the doorway, looking ashen and ashamed. I couldn’t help it. I rose to my feet and crossed the room to stand in front of Ryder. “That’s how you found me. I’d detailed my night at Vibe with my stupid hashtags.”
“Stupid is a relative term,” I said gently, caressing his cheek. When Ryder didn’t flinch or pull away, I got a little bolder and stroked my thumb over his full bottom lip. He sucked in a sharp breath and held it for a few seconds before taking a step backward, breaking our contact.
“Stupid is the kissing cousin to dumbass,” Ryder said, trying to dig up a smile.
“You’re neither stupid nor a dumbass. You’ve been dealt one too many blows and decided to release some steam. It makes you human, Ry.”
“I told you not to call me that.”
“Get over it.”
Ryder opened his mouth to argue, but a knock on the door saved me.