Sinclair suggested counseling several times over the years, but I didn’t want the world to know my business. Plus, I didn’t want to take drugs for depression or anxiety or whatever form of unbalance a counselor would diagnose. Checking with Dr. Google on natural ways to balance mood, I discovered St. John’s Wort. I’d been taking it ever since, although at times like this, I wondered if it really worked. The lava-hot blood coursing through my blood suggested it wasn’t.
“I’m sorry,” Ryder said softly next to me. “I never meant the songs as a joke. I truly liked your poems. I loved how they’d made Sinclair feel supported during a scary time in her life. I saw how they affected her and I wanted to put them to music.”
He glanced at me quickly, probably wondering if I was going to beat him or jump out of the truck.
“In retrospect, based on how we banter at each other, I can see how you might think I was joking. But honest to God, Trina, my use of your poems was sincere.”
His admission was a surprise, and a little knot in my belly started to loosen because he sounded sincere.
“You’re not usually serious or sincere,” I said, afraid to trust my gut.
“I know I’m a laid back guy that tries not to take things too seriously in life, but that doesn’t mean I think everything is a joke. I respect you, Trina. I like you.” He glanced at me again. “A lot.”
That knot was loosening even more, and it scared the bejeebers out of me. I couldn’t let myself get ensnared by Ryder’s seeming sincerity or charm.
“Thank you. I appreciate your apology.”
“Good.”
Needing to keep a barrier between us, I said, “I don’t know why you kissed me like that—”
“I just told you why. I like you.”
My heart fluttered but I told it to calm down. I didn’t need it to get any ideas about me and Ryder. That crush I had on him in high school was long gone. He made my hormones go haywire because it had been a long time since they’d been stimulated. When this bet was over, I’d need to consider dating more again as clearly they’d become less discriminating during my long sexual drought.
Just to be sure he understood where the boundary line was, I said, “I think we should keep things platonic. No kissing or touching. We win the bet and that’s it.”
He nodded, but didn’t say anything.
When we got back to his place, I immediately went to my room. I worried he might continue to want to talk or kiss, but luckily, he let me be.
I climbed into bed and willed sleep to come, but I didn’t have any luck there. Each time I closed my eyes, Ryder appeared. One thing about him, he was smooth. At the senior center, he looked suave and sexy, like he’d stepped off a 1950’s Vegas stage with the Rat Pack. His voice was smooth and silky and if I were prone to romantic notions, I’d have been lured in by its lovely tone. Instead, I’d been bewitched by his kiss. His mouth consuming mine flashed in my brain, making my body heat with the memory of his soft, yet firm lips. I could still taste him. I could still feel the way his hands held my hips and the growing arousal in his fancy slacks.
I wasn’t completely innocent when it came to men. I’d dated a little bit and I wasn’t a virgin. But I couldn’t remember ever having a kiss electrify my entire body like Ryder’s had. Of course, most men didn’t stick around for too long. I knew why. I was well aware that I was a difficult woman. For a time, it made me sad and I tried to temper my sharp tongue and strong opinions. But that didn’t feel right either. I didn’t like the discomfort of pushing aside my own needs to try and impress or keep a man.
What I needed was a man who could weather my temperament and need for control in my life. Not a pushover, because I didn’t like that either. My father was a pushover, which was partly why his life was so chaotic. I needed a man who could challenge me without disrupting the order in my life. A man who could understand and accept my quirks. And, I suppose, one who could help me relax and enjoy life more. I needed someone that I could trust to take charge so that order could remain even if I wasn’t at the helm of the ship. Jesus, it sounded like Ryder.
But no. Ryder, for all his sexiness and ability to dodge and weave at my snark, wasn’t serious enough. He coasted through life instead of directing it, like my father had, and I couldn’t be with someone like that. I needed direction and a plan.
Finally, my eyelids drooped closed and sleep arrived. With it came Ryder, with his sexy smile and his talented tongue doing unspeakably pleasurable things to me. I woke with a startle, my nipples hard as rocks, my pussy throbbing with need. God damn that man. Even in my dreams, he haunted me and turned me on until I had no choice but to relieve the ache myself.
9 Ryder
I liked Sundays because I had no appointments. No work. No obligations. Even in this fake marriage, Trina had no expectations of me except to leave her alone.
After an extremely satisfying kiss outside the senior center earlier in the week, we had a bit of a truce. I truly hadn’t known how using her poems made her feel and I felt like shit that she’d thought I’d been making fun of
