But I want more. I don’t want easy.
“Do you have any girlfriends?”
She cocks her hip out. “Why? Are you tired of me already?”
“Definitely not. I just figured you were the type to have a lot of guy friends and few girlfriends.”
She shrugs and plops down in the chair. “I guess. I didn’t have a lot of any friends growing up. My dad tolerated Dante, but he kept me pretty isolated from the locals.” Dante was right. Her dad seems crazy. “You’re thinking he was a horrible dad.”
Maybe crazy, not horrible. She seems to have her shit together and loves her dad so he couldn’t be that bad. “Whiskey, I’m not one to judge. My dad rode my ass my entire life to be a better football player. I was never good enough for him. Even when he was on his deathbed, he made me swear I would continue working harder.”
I stare out to the calm water. A pain lives in my chest because we didn’t have a good relationship. His constant push and my rebellious pull had us at odds most nights.
“What happened to him,” she whispers.
Closing my eyes, I answer, “He was in a car accident. There was a complication with his surgery. I was sixteen.” There are very few people that has heard this story. I’ve always been afraid of people taking my stories and turning them into headlines. But with Aspen, I didn’t even hesitate.
When I hear the creak of a chair, I open my eyes. She steps over and sits on the table next to the chair, laying her hand on top of mine. “I’m so sorry.” I don’t dare move a muscle having her this close to me, touching me. Warmth from her fingers spreads up my arm.
“It’s okay. My mom and I survived. I’m a huge momma’s boy because of it.” I can’t help myself. I lift her hand in mine and kiss the backside. My lips tingle against her skin and my gaze glued to her face, tries to read her. Can I keep going?
She stands straight up, silently answering my question. “I have an idea to make you feel better.” I wag my brows. I know a way. Dipping her head slightly, she adds, “Not that, Ryker. I’ll be back.” She spins on her bare feet and rushes out the front door.
After ten minutes, I splash my foot in the lukewarm water. I shouldn’t have kissed her hand. She probably said she’d be right back as an excuse to get the hell out of here. Rolling my neck to crack it, I push up to change my water.
The door clicks open as I’m dumping the water and I balance on one foot. “What are you doing?” she exclaims, rushing over to me.
I hold out the empty bucket. “Water was cold.”
She winces. “Sorry. It took a little longer than expected. But I have these…” She swings her hands in front of her, presenting me with five wrapped cookies. My mouth waters as I drop the bucket and reach for the sugar greatness. “I heard a rumor you enjoyed these.”
I untie the blue ribbon, all the while still standing on one foot. “Enjoy is putting it mildly. More like addicted.” I shove the entire cookie in my mouth and bite down. I hum as the sweet taste fills every taste bud on my tongue. “These are so fucking good,” I say, covering my mouth full of cookie, trying not to look like a savage.
Her smooth laugh radiates through my hut as she fills the bucket with water. “I’m glad you feel better.” I hop to my chair. “Here you go.” She places the bucket in front of me and stands up. “Sorry, I need to go to work. I’m in a show tonight. Will you be okay? I can have the doctor come by to check on you.”
To cover my disappointment, I unwrap another cookie and shove it in my mouth. I swallow and shake my head. “No need for the doc. My foot is already feeling better. Thanks for taking care of me.” I hold up the couple cookies left in my hand. “And of course, these.” She walks down the stairs to her boat. “Wait, do you know who makes these?”
She bites her bottom lip. “I might.”
“Can you beg them for the recipe?”
She chuckles as she steps into her boat. “I’ll see what I can do, Ball Boy.”
Chapter Eight
Ryker
“Come here often?” I joke as Aspen rows up to my deck. My pulse races with anticipation when our gaze meets. It catches me off guard. It’s a foreign reaction toward a woman.
This morning, my foot felt better, so I went for a run, but I pushed it too much toward the end. The last thing I need is to return injured. I figured soaking it in the pool would help loosen it up.
“It seems I do.” She lets out an awkward chuckle. “I was just coming by to check on you.”
I have half a mind to tell her it still hurts, so she feels bad enough to hang out with me today. I’d take a pity visit, but that would make me an asshole. “It’s good. Seems the doctor was right, I’ll live.”
A flicker of hesitation crosses her face. She twists her lips. Finally, she says, “I saw you out here so I thought I’d ask. Want to go for a ride?”
It takes every ounce of self-restraint not to jump up and dive headfirst into the canoe. Hell yeah, I want to go. “That depends…” She arches a brow and waits for me to continue. “… as long as there’s no shagging.”
The words leave a sour taste on my lips, but when it makes her smile in amusement, it makes it worth it.
“I can’t make any promises.”
I freeze as I’m getting out of the water, momentarily speechless. My gaze darts to hers.
She snorts out a laugh and covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh my! I did not mean for that to come out that way.”
I hold up my hands, smiling. “Whiskey, no matter how hard you try, it’s a no.” I’ve never told a bigger lie. Not even admitting the weed was mine compares to this, because if she asks, I would pleasure her for fucking hours. Hours.
She’s still laughing when I step into the canoe. “Just ignore me. Trying to sound cool backfired.”
She has no idea how hot she looks right now. There’s nothing fake about her, and I love that. “I think you’re cool, no need to try. So, where are we going?”
“I somehow missed a box for my deliveries this morning, so I need to go by my house to pick them up.”
“Whiskey, this is a million-dollar view.”
I thought the view to the Hudson River from my condo, back in New York City, was amazing, but it pales in comparison to this. I spin around from the double sliding glass door and glance around the studio-sized home. The kitchen takes up more than a third of the space, looking out of place. Especially the three mismatched ovens against one wall.
“My dad built my home. And he knew I loved to bake, so he created a kitchen big enough that I could run my business out of it.”
I turn to where she’s sitting on her couch, watching me, and tilt my chin. “Your business?” Jesus, what else does this woman do? Her carefree laugh draws me to her. Every. Time. I step over to the couch and sit on the opposite end. Twisting my body to face her, I spread my arm against the back.
She bites her lip, and I watch it roll out of her teeth. Sexy as hell even when she’s not trying. My eyes flash up to hers when she asks, “You know those cookies you love so much?”