“I anticipated your hanger, Sutter. Eat and walk. Let’s go.”
“I need water.” I’m not ready for this. Ryder’s got something up his sleeve. It feels like the death of our relationship as I know and love it. Do I want more? Of flipping course, I do. But I’m terrified of the unknown, of the loss I could experience if I take that leap.
A canteen dangles off Ryder’s finger as he raises it over his head, still not looking back. “Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder again.”
I growl, ripping off the granola wrapper and stomping after him. “Asshole lumberjack.”
“Holy shit.” My lungs tug for air. The hike didn’t wind me. It’s the view that’s to blame.
Ryder smiles over at me as I take in the vista. We’re high up, staring down over the water beneath us, the surrounding land dotted with neat little triangles of trees. Clouds sweep and cut across the sun, dappling the world in patches of sunlight.
“It’s…I don’t even have words.”
Ryder laughs quietly. “First time for everything.”
I punch his shoulder, never breaking my stare. “How do you leave this?”
His exhale is heavy. “Not easily.”
“I can imagine.” His words sink, then settle heavy as a stone in my stomach. This is the place that makes him happy. Ryder’s said this is where he wants to live. This is my problem. He says he wants me, but he can’t possibly want the life I’ll have. As much as I hate that he said it, I can’t deny that in one sense, Ryder was right: his world is not my world, his ideal life does not align with mine. So what the hell are we pretending at, then?
Turning, I grab his shirt and tug him toward me. Ryder tumbles close, his hands landing on my hips. “Why are you doing this?” I ask him. “What do you want from me?”
Ryder’s brow furrows. The jerk even looks gorgeous when he’s totally confused. “What?”
I sigh in frustration. “Ryder, this is your happy place, it’s where you want to be. We have one year of college left, and then I have no idea where I’ll end up signing. Why should we go down a road that’s only going to end up hurting both of us?”
He smiles. I resist the urge to slug him in the stomach for looking so composed. He’s too fucking unflappable.
“What do you have to smile about?” I snap.
Shaking his head, Ryder slips his fingers through my hair and smooths the sweaty flyaways off my forehead. “You really think that once I had you, I’d ever let us end over something so inconsequential.”
My heart twists. “Location and lifestyle are not inconsequential.”
“I can be happy anywhere, Willa. As long as you’re there, and there’s earth and sky around me.” His smile deepens. “But you don’t want it to be that simple. Because you’re scared of where it leads.”
“Of course I’m scared. I’m four-alarm-fire freaking out.”
Ryder’s smile falls as his hands drift down to the sweaty nape of my neck. I know better than to try to pull away or worry it will gross him out. He steps even closer so our fronts brush. “Guess what?” he whispers.
I lick my lips and watch his head bend toward mine. “What?”
“I’m scared too, Sunshine. This is vulnerable shit.” His mouth is a breath away from mine. “I just know I’d rather be afraid with you than fearless with anyone else.”
He kisses me as he hasn’t in months. Expertly, patiently. My body roars to life as my legs give out. I grasp Ryder like he’s my anchor to the world as his hands cradle my head, and the impulse to cry hitches in my throat. His lips…without the beard I feel so much more of them as they skate over mine, as they sweep over my cheeks. They’re warm and soft, prodigies at teasing, claiming, taunting. His teeth scrape my bottom lip, sending a thunderbolt of need jolting down my body.
Our mouths open together, breath stealing breath, as his hands drop and he wraps me in his arms. My fingers dive into his hair, savoring those thick, silky strands. My nails scrape down to his stubble. A shiver waves through my bones.
“Willa,” he whispers. His hands are hungry. They’re tugging my shirt, clawing over sensitive skin. Waist, stomach, ribs.
“Yes.” I can’t stop kissing him. I can’t stop sinking into this man who holds me like I don’t have to hold it all myself. I feel him, iron hard, pressing into my stomach through his jeans. “You’ve got a two-by-four down there. How’s that gonna work?”
Ryder laughs against my lips, shaking his head. “It’ll be okay. We’ll fit.”
“How do you know?” I whisper.
“We will, Sunshine. We’ve always fit.”
“What if you hurt me, Ryder?”
His whole body freezes. Ryder pulls away just enough so my gaze can fall headlong into those grass green irises. The exact color of the trees that canopy us, the earth beneath our feet. “Willa Rose Sutter, I will do everything humanly possible with every breath I have never to hurt you.”
A tear slips down my cheek and Ryder thumbs it away.
“That said, I will mess up. I know I’m pretty damn perfect, but I still am human.”
I grab his shirt, then shove him halfheartedly. His grin warms his face and makes his eyes twinkle.
“I want…” I scrape my lip between my teeth as I peer up at him. His smile is warm, his eyes patient. His hand wraps tight around my shoulder as he holds me close.
“You don’t have to say anything, Sunshine, not until the words are real and right.” Ryder kisses my temple and exhales slowly. “I’m not going anywhere. At least not for the next few days. Someone’s got to keep the grizzlies away.”
I gulp as he backs away and scoops up our canteen. “Are you…wait, Bergman, are you serious?”
Ryder’s laugh echoes in the trees as he starts down the path. “If I tell you, where’s the fun in that?”
I run at him, then lunge like a monkey onto his back. He doesn’t so much as break his stride.
“The last known California grizzly bear, Ursus arctos californicus, a now-extinct subspecies of the grizzly bear, was killed roughly a century ago,” Ryder says gently, hitching me higher in his grip.
“Well, that’s a relief. Aren’t you just a little California wilderness encyclopedia.”
Ryder squeezes my legs, his hands nearly wrapping around my thighs. Maybe not so little.
Dropping my head against his neck, I remember our hike to the falls. The clean, sharp scent of his sweat. Muscles shifting in his back. Once again, I feel them. I breathe in deep mountain air and Ryder’s warm body. I press my lips to his skin how I was too afraid to last time. His grip tightens on my legs, and when he glances up at the path ahead, a smile warms his face.
Tree leaves whisper in the breeze. The sun slips lower in the sky. Ryder carries me the whole way down.
Add cooking to frowning, opening laptop bags, sleeve cuffing, and other mundane activity that Ryder Bergman magically makes pornographic. Any time I’ve eaten at his place, the cooking’s pretty much done when I get there, which betrays deep wisdom on that man’s part. I can only last about five hungry minutes around the smell of food before I need to eat. Before I turn into an angry food troll.