Flirting with Disaster (12 page)

I'm not sure he saw me. The way he stared in the distance, slightly above my head had me wondering if I hadn't become transparent again. Just as invisible as I had been when he was the lord and master of our high school and I was ... well, no one.
 

It hurt more than I imagined to be ignored by Ryder. It cut like a razor, but I'd dealt with worse pains in my life so I didn't crumble.
 

No, that was not me.
 

I did just the opposite.
 

I stood a little straighter as we passed Ryder's truck.

Thankfully Brad was by my side. He took my hand again and squeezed it sweetly.
 

Despite being a handsome wealthy playboy, Brad was no stranger to pain and self doubt himself. That was possibly what had drawn him to me during our first year of college. With time, we became close friends. Close enough for him to admit what so very few people knew.
 

For my friend, hiding his sexual preferences from his family for fear of being cast out was quite a cross to bear.

I was grateful for the coffee break. I needed someone to talk to for a few minutes, and the nurse obviously saw it in my body language. Hospitals reminded me of my mother. I had the fear of God in me that I'd lose my dad too, and I wasn't ready for that. She talked me down, told me he was going to be okay, and rested her hand on mine. It was that simple touch that comforted me the most. I sighed, nodded, and thanked her for her time before I headed back to my father's room and she headed back to work.

I'd slept on the chair and was relieved to learn my father was being released later in the afternoon, after the doctor made his rounds and gave him instructions. Dad knew he'd have to take it easy for a few days, and work was only a burden. I told him I'd take care of it for him, and pass the message on. No need for him to get upset.

I headed home to clean up and get a shower, after letting him know I'd be back to pick him up from the hospital and take him home. I'd talk to Barbara and let her know what had happened, and that he'd need some time off. My dad's health came first.
 

She was the last person I wanted to talk to, but the thought of putting my father through that conversation was enough to push me. I could give her a call or swing by her house or the factory. I still hadn't decided how I was going to handle the details. Keep your feelings out of it, old boy. Do the deed, get her the needed information, and then you're done.
 

I parked my truck and went in to clean up. The hot water sprang from the shower head, spraying me back to life. I hadn't slept much, but I could take a nap later. I picked up the soap and started the process of lathering my body. As I dried off, I reminded myself I had to pick up my father later. He wasn't sick enough to stay at the hospital. It was good news, and I had to accept he'd be working again soon. What he needed to do first was rest, and that was a hard thing for him to do, to sit and relax.
 

The more I thought about it, I knew I'd have to deal with Barbara in person. With a phone conversation, there was no human connection – the element of realism wasn't quite the same as delivering the news face to face. She had to understand, he needed the break. His body and mind were under too much strain. I knew it was bad timing, but that was her problem.
 

I pulled on a pair of jeans, a black T-shirt, and slipped on my shoes. The sooner I dealt with this, the better. I dreaded seeing her and her lover all cozy together, but this was business. I brushed my teeth and went out to my truck. No. It was a day for the bike. I needed speed. I needed to burn off this frustration. I'd take my motorcycle down the causeway, turn around and tear up the road even faster coming back into town. It was just what I needed.

When I pulled up to her house, my stomach knotted. Brad was still there. How long would he be around? I drew a deep breath and the pushed it out. I tried to focus on my purpose.
 

I went up to the door and knocked. Of course, he had to be the one who answered the door. Brad smiled on seeing me. "Oh, hey. Thanks for the note but I found an Austin Martin dealership in Long Branch, I think I’ll be able to drive it there."

"Fine, I’m sure it will be safe to drive, just slowly I guess. Anyway, I need to talk to Barbara," I said and tried not to grunt at the bastard before me, the very one sleeping in her bed. The very man who had entered her life just as I'd found her.
 

"Sure, I was just about to run out anyway. Let me grab my keys, and I'll leave you two to talk." He was cordial, nicer than I deserved, but at least I didn't have to do this in front of her boy toy.
 

He led me to the kitchen. Barbara was sitting at the table, her hands wrapped around a can of Diet Coke with a straw in it. She looked up, and I wasn't sure if she was glad to see me or not. I couldn't read her expression. She seemed to be distracted. "Yes?"

I glanced at Brad, who true to his word, had grabbed his keys and gave a casual wave before leaving. I waited for the door to close behind him.
 

"It's my father. He went to the hospital last night with chest pains." Straight to the point, no need to dawdle, I reminded myself.

"Oh goodness, I'm so sorry to hear that," she said.
 

They were the words I wanted to hear, but they were guarded. "Are you? I'm sorry, that was rude." She made a gesture with her hand as if it wasn't an issue. "Anyway, he's going to need a few days of rest. I know things are in a crunch, but he needs this. And by rest, I mean rest, not phone calls, more problems, or stress to deal with.

"You're right, it’s most inconvenient." She frowned. "I hope he's okay. He's a good man."
 

"With rest," I reiterated – and just to make sure she didn't bother him, I added, "If you need someone to step in and help with anything, contact me. Don't even call him."
 

There was an awkward silence between us. Was I done here? Was she ready for me to leave? Barbara took a sip of her cola. Neither of us spoke.
 

Finally, I cleared my throat and asked the question on my mind. "How long is your lover boy here? You know, the rich one, the one in your league."

Barbara sighed on hearing my tone. "It's not like that. It was a misunderstanding. Please, sit down."

I paced, looked at the table and then pulled a seat out. I didn't know why I was still there. I'd said my business. I should have walked away.

"First, he's not my lover. He's my best friend," she said.
 

Right! She thought this would explain things. I tried not to sound bitter, but it was a challenge. "Friends with benefits; I see he was sleeping in your bed. You move fast, lady."
 

"Ryder!" she protested and glared at me. "He's not interested in me that way. We've been friends since college.
 
We'd had a lot to drink, and the other bedroom was in disarray. I had him sleep in my room. We don't... we aren't lovers."
 

I wasn't sure what to say. "Keep talking." I was willing to listen.

"I know what it looks like, but it's not what it seems. I'm not his type." She paused, as if she was struggling to tell me more but refrained from doing so.
 

My mind raced. There was no way a man could spend the night next to such tempting curves and not give it a try ... unless he wasn't into women.
 

Barbara looked down at her soda can and spoke in a whisper. "When I said we weren't of the same league, I meant I wasn't good enough for you. You took it the wrong way, not even giving me a chance to explain."

The thought burned me again. I did my best not to interrupt and let her finish. I had no idea what tale she was spinning.

"You're the town heartthrob, women love you. I'm the plain, invisible woman most people look through. And yet, when you looked directly at me, I felt things, but it doesn't matter. I knew it wouldn’t mean much to you, and you'd end up hating me when I closed the plant."

I stood and paced again. Her words, I was sure what her words made me think.
 

She stood to meet me eye to eye. "I'm sorry you took it the wrong way, but for some crazy reason, I thought it was best to just let you leave. It seemed easier."
 

She looked sad, maybe a bit broken. Her face pale without any make-up, and yet she took my breath away. I tried to stop myself, but the urge was too strong. I walked her back to the wall, wanting control back. I drew her wrists up over her head and pinned her body with mine, and then quizzed her one last time. "He's not your lover?"
 

She whispered, barely breathing, "No, he never was."
 

Our gaze locked, neither of us daring to look away. I growled with ownership. "You're mine, and I need more."
 

She nodded, closed her eyes, and parted her lips. I kissed her then and there, my mouth more than ready to engage. I needed to taste her again, to kiss her, to make her see we had something here.
 

Ryder kissed me like I always dreamt someone would. His kiss said he couldn't live one more minute without putting his mouth on mine, that he needed me like he needed his next breath and he would never let me go.
 

I struggled to free my hands. I wanted to touch him, soak up the heat of his skin but he didn't let me. The harder I pulled, the firmer his grip on my wrist grew until I surrendered. In total abandon, I molded my body to his. Through his jeans and the thin material of the long T-shirt I'd slept in, I felt him grow with each thrust. Shamelessly, I moaned in frustration and felt his lips twitch in a smile against mine.
 

The man decided to tease me when I wanted more. So much more. I was desperate as if only the joining of our bodies could make me whole again. He was the part of me I hadn't known was missing until he touched me the first time. Denying him was denying myself and I never wanted to do that again.

He broke the kiss and looked at me as if he had no idea what to do next.

"I missed you," I whispered.

Letting go of my wrist, he cupped my face and kissed me again. The hunger was still there but softened by tenderness as if suddenly he was afraid I would crumble and vanish under his touch.
 

My hands went for his waist and made quick work of his belt and pants. I moved down and dropped to my knees pulling his clothes down. He stood erect and proud in front of me, more tempting than anything I had ever tasted before. I caught the shinny pearl from the top of his member with the tip of my tongue and the sound he made resonated through me.
 

"Shush," I said, and feeling daring, experimented by drawing a wide wet trail kissing him from the top down to the two heavy balls. He smelled delicious. Clean and all male.

I traveled up and gently nibbled at the sensitive tip. He hissed and his hands landed urgently on the back of my head. Ever so slowly, I took him into my mouth. His fingers threaded in my hair gently inviting me to explore his entire length. I did and savored the velvety flesh while cupping his sack Soon I felt the throbbing intensify, and resisted as he tried to pull me away. Holding tightly to his steel shaft I welcomed his release.
 

He pulled me back up and held me tightly, pressing my cheek against his chest.
 

"I missed you too,” he said and the tenderness of his voice melted my heart. I looked into his eyes and he opened his mouth to say something when his phone rang.

The tone was the old Elvis old song “If You're Looking for Trouble.” Ryder frowned. "It's my father," he said letting go of me and pulling his pants up to search for his phone in his pocket.

"Dad, is everything okay?" From the look on his face something was very wrong. I couldn't make out the words, but I could hear the quick staccato of Dylan Bishop's voice. Not a good rhythm for someone who had a heart condition. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." Ryder swore softly under his breath and tucked the phone between his neck and his shoulder while readjusting himself. "I'm with her now... Yeah, yeah ...Now you stay put and I will come to get you as soon as I can."

He ended the conversation and turned to look at me. I crossed my arms in front of me defensively and braced myself for the bad news I knew was coming.
 

"The fire department just called my father. It started in the warehouse adjacent to the plant. They're hoping to stop it before it spreads to the main building," he explained.
 

I remained frozen for a few seconds until Ryder jolted me back into action. "Come on, get dressed, I'll give you a ride."

Rushing up the stairs and throwing on the jeans I'd worn last night, I wondered if it was some freak accident or an act of malice. Had someone imagined that setting the leftover inventory on fire would buy the place another month of activity? If so, that person was either stupid or too desperate to think straight.

Running down the steps, I grabbed my bag and slammed the door shut behind me. Ryder was already on his bike, engine started. He gave me the second helmet and as soon as I had it strapped on, he rushed me to the factory.

When we arrived, the fire department had everything under control. All the employees were standing on the other side of the street, looking at the smoldering remains. Ryder took my hand and walked with me in the direction of the man in uniform who seemed to be in charge to introduce myself. The man looked as if he was going to tell us to back up and then he recognized Ryder and gestured for us to pass the yellow tape line.

"Hey, Ryder," he said. "Sorry to hear about your old man."

"Thanks, Charlie," Ryder answer. "He gave us a scare but the doctors said if he rests he should be okay."

Ryder introduced me to his friend who I vaguely recognized as one of the gang Ryder and Tony used to hang out with. Who would have thought those bad boys would have turned out to be such dependable adults?