That way Nikki would be a solid eight feet away from the pizza aroma. “And do you want a popsicle from my freezer? They’re only fifteen calories a pop. It isn’t pizza, but it’s better than licking the air.”
“Really?” Nikki’s face lit up. “Can I have grape?”
“Sure.” Suzanne headed to her kitchen and caught Ryder’s eye.
Something she saw there made her very uneasy.
It was almost like admiration.
And while she could handle irritation, sexual desire, or bravado from him, she could not handle anything that smacked of genuine feelings.
“You’re being about as useful as a trapdoor on a canoe,” she told him. “Now will you stop staring at me and see if you can download some pictures of Elvis and Priscilla’s wedding?”
Her intention was to make him angry, but Ryder just grinned at her. “Yes, ma’am.”
Yeah, she was feeling all sorts of uneasy. Ryder wasn’t supposed to agree that easily with her.
But she needed to plan a wedding and a divorce, so she really didn’t have time to worry about it.
BY
the time the last of the bridesmaids had taken their leave, and Nikki and Jonas were heading to the door, Ryder was feeling Suzanne’s pain. He could honestly say that if he ever had a career-ending injury he was not going to go into the wedding consultation business.
Brides were nuts.
At least Nikki was, and Ryder was paying the price of bringing up Elvis as a joke. If he had to watch one more YouTube video of the King and Priscilla passing cake into each other’s mouths, he was going to look up their divorce decree and plaster it all over Nikki’s bridal magazines.
The girl didn’t understand subtlety, that’s for sure. He had mentioned the King’s marriage for the very reason that it hadn’t worked out, and yet that one had gone right over Nikki’s head, and now Suzanne was pissed off at having to do this kind of wedding.
She wasn’t even hiding it very well, and that worried Ryder. He didn’t want her to lose a client before her business even got off the ground. The media attention from this wedding would bring in a lot of future brides for Suzanne and he knew she was counting on that.
“You ready to go?” Ty asked him, swiping the half-empty case of beer and tucking it under his arm.
“You all go ahead. I’m going to help Suzanne clean up.”
“Uh-huh.” Ty shot a look over at Suzanne, who was stomping around her dining room gathering up dirty paper napkins and tossing them in an empty pizza box. “Have fun with that.”
“Hit the road, McCordle.”
Elec was in the doorway. “How are you going to get your car?”
“Suz can drive me to it.”
A snort came up from Suzanne, but Ryder gave the guys a reassuring smile. “See you later.”
They left, and Ty pulled the door closed behind himself, murmuring, “Good luck, man. Call if you need help getting to the ER.”
“Go away.” Ryder sped up the process of closing the door, nearly taking off Ty’s foot. He did not want Suzanne to hear Ty’s ribbing.
“Let me get that stuff, babe,” he told her. “I’m the one who ordered the pizza.” The whole reason for the guys being at this meeting had been pointless, and he’d been hungry. It had seemed like a good idea at the time until Nikki had snarled at the poor pie.
“Yes, you did.” Suzanne whipped a balled-up napkin down on the table and stood up. “Why are you even in this wedding, by the way?”
“Strickland asked me.” Ryder went in the kitchen and pulled a clean trash bag out from under Suzanne’s sink. He flicked it open and started shoving pizza boxes in it. “This will be a good thing for your business, you know. With all of us drivers in the wedding party, there will be media buzz. Which means people will see your name and your work. You’ll have clients from here to the next decade.”
She gave him the look, the one that made his nuts want to withdraw back into his body.
“Who exactly is going to want to hire me after they see this mascara-laden paper bell wedding from hell?”
There really wasn’t any good answer to that.
“Well, but—”
Her hand shot up. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“It’s not like—”
“Stop talking.”
Ryder narrowed his eyes. Damn, he hated it when she talked to him like he was a naughty child. They were divorced. He was under no obligation to put up with that.
Wait a minute. They weren’t divorced.
But still. That was just a technicality. Ryder crammed the rest of the trash in the bag and sealed it a little tighter and with more force than was necessary. “I didn’t think Nikki would take me serious. I was just trying to help them brainstorm, get the juices flowing, you know.”
“She has no juices!” Suzanne shoved all the bridal magazines together on the table in a stack, her movements jerky and agitated. “That girl is so dumb, if she threw herself on the ground she’d miss.”
Ryder blinked, then he couldn’t stop himself. He busted out laughing. “Well, that’s probably accurate.”
“What?” She glared at him, but her lips were twitching with the urge to smile. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m determined to stay pissed off.”
Ryder grinned, sauntering in closer to her, leaving the trash behind on the floor. “Come on, it’s not that big of a deal. Truthfully, the more over the top the wedding, the more of a news bite you’ll get.”
“That might be true,” she said with great reluctance. “But don’t ruin my bitterness for me.”
Ryder had moved really close to Suzanne and he could smell her perfume, could touch any part of her body with any part of his with just one little shift. He could feel her warmth radiating from her, see the dimples she was struggling to suppress. Ryder had always loved Suz’s dimples.
He wanted to kiss her. Badly.
But he knew the reaction that would get, and despite the optimism his dick was displaying at the moment, he knew it would be less than happy when Suzanne’s knee made contact with it.
“You’re not bitter, babe,” he said. “Just stubborn.” Ryder did put a finger on her waist, drawing it back and forth over the bottom edge of the sweater. “Now give me the papers.”
She didn’t move, didn’t knock his hand away. But she smiled, a slow, sassy upturn of her full lips. “Nice try, Jefferson.”
“I haven’t tried anything,” he murmured, wanting more than anything to peel off that sweater and lick her from head to toe.
“Go under my sweater and you’ll live to regret it. The papers aren’t even there anymore. I haven’t been walking around for the last hour and a half with a manila envelope up my shirt.”
“Who says I’d be looking for divorce papers under there?” He gave her a wicked grin.
“Yeah, but you have a follow-through problem, remember? And I’m not interested in anything else being left half done.”
Ryder froze. Now that was below the belt. He had never, never, ever, not once in all their years together left her unsatisfied.
Or any other woman for that matter.
Ryder took a step back. “I may leave loose ends, but you have tunnel vision. Lose the attitude, Suz, or you’re going to lose your wedding-planning business before you even start it.”
Her head tilted. “Screw you,” she said in a low, even voice that didn’t fool him at all.
One more word from him and she’d probably blow. Which didn’t stop him from opening his mouth. “I’d love to. You start it and I’ll finish it.”
Then Ryder turned and headed toward the door, figuring he could call Ty for a ride. Hell, he’d walk, but he needed to get out before Suzanne hit him. Too late. He jerked forward when a magazine hit him square in the back. He saw the smiling cover bride staring up at him as it smacked onto the hardwood floor of the foyer.
Ryder opened the door and turned and gave her a smirk, his ego smarting more than any bodily damage she could do with a bridal magazine, regardless of how hefty their advertising was. “This was fun. We should find out we’re still married more often.”
“Why, so every day can be a special new plunge into hell?”
Ouch. But he refused to let her see she’d nicked him. “Nobody I’d rather burn with than you, babe.”
With that, he left, plunging his hands into the front pockets of his jeans as he stomped down her front walk.
CHAPTER
THREE
SUZANNE
groaned out loud after Ryder left. God, that had been such a ridiculous and overdramatic thing to say to him. Plunging into hell. Geez. She hated losing control like that. She prided herself on her control and she’d had literally none since her doorbell had rang for the first time three hours earlier.
Glaring at the grease stain on her carpet, Suzanne wrapped her arms around her middle and fought the urge to kick the full garbage bag Ryder had left sitting there.
Her cell phone rang and she pulled it out of her purse on the table, praying it wasn’t Ryder or Nikki. She needed a breather and possibly a cocktail before she dealt with either of them. Fortunately, it was Imogen, her friend and Ty’s fiancée.
“Please tell me you want to meet for a drink in the next half an hour,” Suzanne said by way of greeting.
“I’m sorry, I can’t tonight,” Imogen said, her crisp voice apologetic. “I have exams to grade.”
Make them wait, was Suzanne’s feeling on it. She certainly remembered professors taking nine million years to grade her exams in college. “You’re really going to leave me to drink alone? Do you know how pathetic that is?”
“You don’t need a drink,” Imogen said. “You just need to vent. Ty told me you and Ryder had a bit of an altercation.”
“I guess you could call it that if you want to be polite. I like to think of it more as a rip-roaring fight.” Where she’d thrown a bridal magazine at his back, which she had to admit had been totally childish. But Ryder just pushed all her buttons, always had.
“What happened?”
Suzanne kicked off her shoes and padded into the kitchen, retrieving the envelope with the letter from the lawyer from the pantry where she had shoved it when Ryder wasn’t looking.
What happened?
Life as she knew it had just been knocked on its ass.
“Ryder gave me a letter from our lawyer. It says we’re still married.” Even saying the words created a lump in her throat.
“Excuse me? Are you saying you’re still legally married to Ryder?”
“Yep.” Suzanne rubbed her forehead. Tears were threatening to make an appearance again and she was going to halt those suckers in their tracks.
“Well, that’s something of a shock.”
And that was something of an understatement. “No shit.”
“But I assume this can be easily resolved. Is it just a matter of filing the correct papers again?”
“I don’t know. I need to call the lawyer tomorrow. Ryder said he would, but I seriously doubt he will. If he did what he said he was going to, then we would have been divorced all along like we were supposed to be.” Suzanne leaned over and dug around in her refrigerator. She was sure she had a tub of cookie dough in there somewhere and she was damn well going to eat it.
Ryder had always had a problem with finishing what he had started. Not in the bedroom—that had been a dig just to piss him off. It had been more that he always said with the best of intentions that he would cut the grass or plan her birthday party or get his license renewed, but then he never did and she was stuck dealing with it.
Annoying, yes, but not the only reason they had wound up divorced. That had just been the day in, day out reality, and it had worn her down. When she heaped that on top of the fact that Ryder had never intended to marry her in the first place, she’d felt like his assistant with sexual benefits, not the woman he loved. Add in that he had been content to remain childless while she had craved a family, and that their fighting had escalated to nonstop, and the split had been the inevitable outcome.
“But Ty said you and Ryder looked extremely tense. This doesn’t really sound like it warrants ruining your friendship with him.”
Almost knocking over the jar of pickles on the top shelf of the fridge, she rolled her eyes. Did she really have a quality friendship with her ex? That was questionable. It wasn’t like they went on nature hikes together and talked about their feelings. They didn’t talk about anything at all that mattered. Mostly they engaged in superficial sparring and made fun of each other’s dates.
“I realize it’s unnerving and probably has dredged up memories, both pleasant and unpleasant, but honestly Suzanne, this is merely a technicality. You have been emotionally divorced for two years, and that doesn’t alter that.”
Screw the cookie dough. She went into the freezer for the vodka. Emotionally divorced? That sounded about as torturous as Nikki’s lettuce diet. “Do I seem like a woman who knows how to emotionally divorce myself from anything? Imogen, I’m the queen of stuffing shit down so deep I need laparoscopic surgery to pull it back out.”
“Then perhaps instead of arguing with Ryder, you should just call the lawyer together.”
That was crazy talk.
Suzanne put the cold vodka bottle on her forehead. Or was it? “Why would I do that?” she asked Imogen suspiciously. Imogen was so logical sometimes Suzanne had trouble following her.
“Instead of him trying to prove to you that he can handle this process, and you doubting his ability to handle it, you should just handle it together. A simple conference call with both of you and the lawyer should take care of all of your questions and concerns and won’t result in an argument over who did what.”
Huh. It did sound kind of simple when Imogen put it like that. “You really think so?”
“Absolutely. Call Ryder and suggest you set up a time with the lawyer.”
“I guess I could do that.” Suzanne continued to hold the vodka but didn’t take off the cap. She suddenly felt guilty about the fact that Ryder had walked out of her house with no ride. “Did Ty pick up Ryder?” she asked.
“No. He said that you were giving him a ride home. Isn’t that what you did?”
“Not exactly.” Shit. He must be still walking. “Look, I’ll call you tomorrow. Have fun grading papers. Show no mercy.”
Imogen laughed. “I’m brutal.”
Please. What Imogen was was frighteningly fair. Maybe Suzanne should take a cue from that.
With a sigh, she redeposited the vodka in the freezer, said good-bye to Imogen, and dialed Ryder’s number.
RYDER
was freezing his ass off. It was damn near Thanksgiving and he was hoofing it three miles to the stupid bar to pick up his car in a town that didn’t believe in allowing people to walk anywhere. If you weren’t driving, then good luck. He had trudged his way along the yellow line, perilously close to speeding cars who weren’t used to pedestrians. After a suburban housewife nearly took him out with her Hummer, he moved off the blacktop into the damp and soggy grass. If he was going to die in a car collision, it was going to be on the track, not walking through Mooresville like a loser.
Race car driver run over by a soccer mom. Now that would be humiliating.
Even more humiliating than the fact that he was still so easily rattled by his ex-wife.
His phone rang in his pocket and he pulled it out, afraid it was one of his friends. He didn’t want to explain to anyone why he was walking.
Even worse, it was Suzanne.
He thought about ignoring her call, but in the end, he couldn’t stop himself from answering it. “Hello?”
“Where are you?” she asked.
Straight to the point, as usual. “I’m walking down the road. I should be back to my car in about twenty minutes if I don’t get sideswiped by this MINI Cooper crawling up my ass. If that happens I’ll be there in twenty-five minutes with a leg injury or two.”
“I’ll come and pick you up. I’m walking out the door now.”
It wasn’t an apology, but he was still touched. Which meant there was something really wrong with him if he felt like a begrudging concession to rescue him from the cold after she’d thrown him out in it was a sweet gesture.
“It’s not a big deal. I’m almost there.” His fingers were all numb and his nuts had probably dropped off a mile back because he couldn’t feel them, but he wasn’t about to admit that.
“Don’t be stubborn. I’m in the car.”
“Oh,
I’m
stubborn?” Ryder lost his footing and almost fell into a ditch full of kudzu. Was she freaking serious? “Honey, if I’m stubborn then we need a new word for what you are, because you’ve got me beat in that department.”
“I’m trying to be nice here and now you’re starting shit.”
Oh, Christ. Ryder didn’t say a word. What was there to say, really? Most of the time it felt like they were speaking two different languages anyway.
He heard Suzanne huff. “What road are you on?”
For a split second, Ryder debated telling her to just forget it, but he couldn’t. Ever since the first day he’d met her, he’d had a soft spot for Suzanne. They may be toxic as a couple, but he could really never tell her no, not even now. Especially since she was being so nice and all.
Ryder looked around and gave her his approximate location. “I’m going to stop in this gas station and just wait for you then.”
“I’m close enough that I can see it.”
The damn shame about that was he had been walking for what felt like half his adult life, and she’d eaten up the same distance in the time it had taken to argue about whether or not she should pick him up. No wonder he loved his career. He got to fly around the track every weekend at ridiculously fast speeds, which was seriously more fun than walking.
Suzanne pulled in a second later, driving the black mini-SUV he’d bought her a few years back. A punch of melancholy hit him and Ryder mentally shook his head. Clearly, watching an unlikely couple like Strickland and Nikki throwing themselves into marriage had him feeling nostalgic.
He opened the passenger door and climbed in. Before he even had the door shut, Suzanne blurted out, “Sorry.”
“What?” He was so startled by that word coming from her mouth that he turned and stared at her blankly. She wasn’t looking at him, her eyes forward, hands gripping the steering wheel.
“I shouldn’t have made you walk.”
Now he really was touched. Saying the S word was comparable to running a marathon for Suzanne. “It’s okay. I think being sideswiped by those papers with all those people around did a number on both of us. I’m sorry for egging you on.”
She finally looked at him, a smile tugging at her lips. “Holy shit. Are we actually maturing or something?”
Ryder grinned back. It was an interesting theory. “Maybe. Or maybe we’ve just beaten each other down so much we’re too tired to fight anymore.”
She made a face. “Six years of beating you down? Is that how you see our relationship?”
He hadn’t meant it like that. He had just meant that instead of talking, they fought out their differences, and it hadn’t gotten them anywhere. “No, that’s not how I see our relationship.” Maybe it had just been too long of a day, with too many weird twists and turns, but as Ryder studied Suzanne’s profile, her narrow, straight nose, her plump lips, her smooth skin still holding a touch of color from the summer sun, her dark blond hair tumbling down onto her shoulders, he felt the rush of former emotions, ones he no longer had but remembered clearly.
“I was happy with you,” he said simply, because it was the truth. He had loved this woman when she’d been his wife.
Of course she was
still
his wife.
Suzanne gave a sharp laugh, breaking the mood. “Now you’re smoking crack. You were not happy with me.”
He had been, once upon a time, before he’d fallen into a pit of relationship quicksand he hadn’t been able to haul himself out of. “Ten bucks says I was.”
She pulled up to the road, looking left for traffic. “Please. How are you going to prove it one way or the other? I’m not taking that bet. Where is your car?”
“At Slim and Chubby’s bar. Next intersection.”
“What an awful name for a bar,” she said absently as she whipped her SUV out into traffic.
He didn’t give a shit about the offensive bar name. What he cared about was getting Suzanne to understand, to acknowledge that, at times, their marriage had been good. He wasn’t sure why it mattered right then and there, but it did.
“Come in and have a drink with me.”
She raised her eyebrows, but she said easily enough, “Okay. One drink. I thought maybe we could call the lawyer and leave him a message that we want to have a conference call to discuss what we need to do. Are you cool with that? That way we’re both hearing what he says, so we both feel in control.”
“Sure.” He didn’t have the same need she did to be in charge of the situation, but he wanted her to see that he could do what was needed. That he wasn’t always a total screwup who forgot everything.
“Great.” Suzanne parked her car next to his truck in the bar’s parking lot and pulled out her cell phone. “When can you take a conference call? How does tomorrow at noon sound?”
Ryder scanned his mental calendar for conflicts and didn’t come up with any. The next few weeks were the lightest of the whole year for him since the season was over and they wouldn’t start intensive training for Daytona until December. “That works.”
“Great.” Suzanne dialed a number and left a message asking for the lawyer to call her at noon the next day. She hung up and gave a huge exhalation of air. “That’s done. Hit me with a big old martini.”
“My pleasure. It’s been a long day for you, you deserve it.” Ryder got out of the car and waited for her.
Suzanne followed suit and beeped her SUV locked. “Lord, tell me about it. The next five weeks are going to be hell working with Nikki. It’s a lot to pull together in a short amount of time even with an intelligent bride.”
Ryder grinned, holding the door to the bar open for her. “And no one is ever going to accuse Nikki of intelligence.”
“Nope.”
They went into the typical bar, with its dark wood and stale air. The bartender looked bored, and there were only a few patrons in the place, most staring sullenly at the big TVs mounted over the liquor bottles. Suzanne sank onto a bar stool and sighed.
“An appletini, please,” she told the bartender. “And if you put sugar on the rim, I will love you forever.”
The man, just an average-looking guy in his late twenties, smiled at her, his lip ring flashing in the overhead light. “You got it, sweetie.”