Building the Perfect Daddy (6 page)

“Expecting a call?” Ryder asked.

“Not really,” she admitted. “But sometimes Kylie wakes up in the night looking for me. And this is Zachary's first sleepover because I was nursing him until a few weeks ago, when he started teething and it just got to be too painful to—” She broke off as heat flooded her cheeks. “And that was a little too much information.”

Ryder just chuckled.

“I'm going to shut up now,” she decided.

He touched her hand and she felt another jolt. “When I was four years old, my sister convinced me that I had a crack in my butt because the doctor dropped me when I was born.”

She laughed at the outrageousness of the claim. “She did not.”

“She did,” he assured her solemnly. “And after that, every time I fell down, I was afraid parts of me would break off.”

She shook her head, still smiling. “Why would you tell me something like that?”

“So that you wouldn't feel self-conscious about what you said. Now that you know something embarrassing about me, it levels the playing field.”

“Do you always play fair?” she asked curiously.

His lips curved as he squeezed her hand gently before pulling his own away to pick up his beer. “Not always.”

She wondered why it sounded more like a warning than an admission.

Chapter Six

A
fter about an hour, Lauryn was forced to acknowledge that Ryder was more of a celebrity than she'd realized. During that time, several people—most of them female—had stopped by the table to say “hi” and tell him how much they enjoyed watching him on TV. Lauryn had assumed he would appreciate the attention, but she noticed that the ready smile on his lips wasn't reflected in his eyes. Apparently having legions of adoring fans could grow tiresome after a while.

Another frosty glass was set in front of her—was it her third? Fourth?—when she saw Dalton elbow his friend as the blonde in the red dress started toward their table. The woman looked a little unsteady and Ryder immediately murmured, “Excuse me,” and rose to his feet to intercept her.

Lauryn sipped her drink as she watched him steer the woman toward the door and outside. He returned a few minutes later, giving a slight nod to his friend when he caught Dalton's eye.

“We've got to get an early start on a roofing job in the morning,” Ryder said, winking at Lauryn, “so we're going to call it a night.”

Dalton reluctantly pushed away from the table. “It was a pleasure meeting both of you.”

Though his words encompassed both of them, Lauryn wasn't surprised that his gaze lingered on Tristyn. Her sister had that effect on a lot of men.

“Maybe we'll see you again,” Tristyn said.

Dalton grinned. “I'm counting on it.”

After Lauryn and Tristyn finished their drinks, they took a cab back to Lauryn's house. She lent her sister a pair of pajamas, and they crashed together in her bed like they'd done on many occasions in the past.

“If Jordyn was here, it would be just like old times,” Tristyn noted.

“I don't remember my head spinning during those old times.”

“It's the tequila,” her sister told her.

“I don't drink tequila,” Lauryn said. “Not since college.”

“What do you think is in a margarita?”

She hadn't thought about it—she'd just enjoyed the sweet flavor of the pink lemonade margaritas. But thinking about it now elicited a regretful moan. “Tequila?”

“Yep.”

Lauryn closed her eyes. “I guess I shouldn't drink margaritas, either.”

She was almost drifting off to sleep before Tristyn spoke again. “Do you usually sleep in the middle now?”

“What?” She cracked open an eye to look at her sister.

“I assume you had a specific side of the bed when you shared it with Rob. I just wondered if you slept in the middle now that he's gone.”

“We stopped sleeping together long before he walked out,” she admitted. “He always claimed he fell asleep on the sofa, but I think that was just an excuse. In fact, I think the last time we had sex was when Zachary was conceived.”

“You're kidding.”

She shook her head, then grabbed the edge of the night table when the room spun around her. “He always blamed me for getting pregnant, as if it was something I'd done on my own.”

Her sister was quiet for a minute, considering this information. “Did you ever suspect...that he was cheating on you?” she asked.

“After a few months without any physical connection, I started to wonder if maybe there was someone else,” she admitted. “But I never asked, because I didn't want to know. Despite the obvious disconnect between us, I didn't want our marriage to be over.”

“Have you had sex with anyone else since he left?”

“Of course not!”

“Why not?” Tristyn pressed.

“Because,” she sputtered, so flustered by the question it took her a moment to come up with a more reasoned response. “I have two kids—I don't have the time or energy to even think about sex. And even if I had the time and the energy and a willing partner, I'm not exactly eager to bare a body that's not as tight or toned as it used to be.”

“I saw you in that purple satin bra and undies—you look fabulous,” Tristyn said loyally.

“And that's why you're my favorite sister tonight.”

“I'm your favorite sister because I didn't make you come home alone to an empty house.”

“I do appreciate that,” Lauryn confirmed.

“Do you miss being married?” Tristyn asked curiously.

“No.”

“Do you miss sex?”

Lauryn sighed. “I'm not even sure I remember what it is.”

“We need to get you a Rabbit,” her sister decided.

“Don't you think I have enough to keep me busy without adding a pet to the mix?”

Tristyn smirked. “I'm not referring to a furry bunny.”

“What are you referring to?”

“A battery-operated adult toy.”

She felt her cheeks burn. “I can't believe we're having this conversation.”

“Sweetie, you've gone almost a year and a half without sex—that sure as heck can't be healthy.”

“Things change when you have kids,” Lauryn told her, a little defensively. “You don't have as much time for intimacy—or even the inclination.”

“I don't believe it,” Tristyn said. “If you're with the right guy, you find the time to be with him.”

“Obviously, Rob wasn't the right guy,” she said.

“Obviously,” her sister agreed. “But he's been gone for almost nine months, and when I saw you with Ryder tonight, I got the distinct impression that he revs your engine.”

Lauryn rolled her eyes. “You've been working in the racing industry for too long,” she said, attempting to divert the conversation even as her thoughts drifted to Ryder and the completely unexpected—and unwelcome—tingles that danced over her skin whenever he was near.

“You're not denying it,” Tristyn noted.

“I'm sure he revs the engine of every woman in America between the ages of seventeen and seventy.”

“Undoubtedly,” her sister agreed, then her tone became contemplative. “But while I've always found Ryder Wallace to be incredibly appealing, you're usually attracted to pretty boys.”

“You think Rob was a pretty boy?”

“Just because I didn't like him doesn't mean I couldn't appreciate that he had a certain metrosexual appeal,” Tristyn said. “Ryder Wallace is the complete opposite—a man's man. And the more I think about it, the more I think it might be interesting to stick around and watch the two of you together.”

“We're not going to be together. He's going to renovate my kitchen and I'm going to keep the kids out of the way.”

“That's disappointing.”

“And anyway, he left the bar tonight with the blonde in the red dress.”

“He walked out with her,” Tristyn acknowledged. “But I don't think he went home with her.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because even as he was walking out the door, he was looking at you.”

Lauryn squinted at her sister. “How many margaritas did you have?”

“He was looking at
you
,” Tristyn said again. “And you were looking right back at him.”

She sighed. “He is really nice to look at.”

And with that thought and his image lingering in her mind, she finally drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Lauryn had never been much of a drinker. Even back in college, she rarely overindulged, and since becoming a mother, “rarely” became “never.” She did enjoy the occasional glass of wine—sometimes even two, but the four cocktails she'd tossed back the night before were an unprecedented experience. And the banging inside her head the next morning confirmed it was an experience she could have lived without.

“What the hell?” Tristyn grumbled, her face buried in the pillow beside her.

Lauryn winced as her sister's words sliced through her skull like daggers. “Can you ‘what the hell' a little more quietly, please?” she begged softly. “The pounding inside my head is punishment enough for last night.”

“The pounding's not in your head,” Tristyn told her. “I think it's on the roof.”

Lauryn reluctantly pulled the covers off her face and pried open her eyelids to look at the ceiling, then frowned. “What the... Oh.”

“Oh?” her sister prompted.

Throwing back the covers, she jumped out of bed, hurried down the stairs and out the front door. Heedless of the damp grass beneath her bare feet, she ventured into the middle of the lawn so that she could see the roof, holding up a hand to shield her eyes from the piercing glare of daylight.

The sun was behind him, outlining his impressive physique: incredibly broad shoulders stretching out a forest green T-shirt, strong arms tightly corded with muscle and lightly dusted with gold hair, long powerful legs hugged by faded denim.

Looking at him standing there, Lauryn's mouth actually went dry. Or maybe that was a residual effect of the tequila.

“Good morning.” he called down, when he saw her looking up at him.

Her response was much less amiable. “What the hell are you doing on my roof, Ryder?”

* * *

Ryder knew he shouldn't stare, but the sight of Lauryn standing on the front lawn—her fists propped on hips clad in a pair of silky boxer shorts, her sexily tousled hair spilling over her shoulders and her green eyes blazing—rendered him unable to do anything else. The top of her head barely came up to his chin, but her shapely bare legs seemed endless and the skimpy little tank top she wore over the boxers hugged her feminine curves and made him wish he could do the same.

His crew chief, always attuned to any potential problems, put down his nail gun to join Ryder at the edge of the roof. Stan whistled under his breath. “Is that the home owner?”

“That's Mrs. Schulte,” Ryder confirmed.

Stan was quiet for a minute, taking in the situation—or maybe just admiring the view.

“You won't have to worry about anyone showing up late for this job,” his crew chief assured him. “The guys will be more than happy to work under her. Or over her. Or—” He wisely swallowed the rest of his words when Ryder slid him a glance, then cleared his throat. “No disrespect intended.”

He nodded. “Help Dalton finish up here with the water shield. I'll go see what Mrs. Schulte wants.”

As he climbed down the ladder propped up at the side of the house, Lauryn headed to meet him. She made quite a picture striding across the grass, and he let his gaze skim over her again. Though he knew she couldn't see his eyes through the dark lenses of his sunglasses, he forced his gaze up to her face when she halted in front of him. “Is there a problem?” he asked.

“That depends on whether or not you consider a bunch of men banging on your roof at seven thirty in the morning a problem.”

“I'm guessing we woke you up.”

She shoved a wayward strand of dark hair away from her face. “Good guess.”

“I'm sorry,” he said. “There was no answer when I knocked and no vehicle in the driveway, so I assumed you were out.”

“At seven thirty in the morning?”

He shrugged. “Or didn't come home.”

“What do you mean—my van isn't here?” She glanced over her shoulder and discovered that there were two trucks—one bearing the Renovations by Ryder logo and the other advertising Dalton's Roofing—taking up the length of driveway. “Oh, right. Tristyn and I cabbed it back last night.”

He tilted his head to study her more closely. “I'm guessing that was a good idea. Head hurt this morning?”

“Only because I woke up to someone banging on my roof,” she told him.

“The tequila had nothing to do with it?” he challenged.

“The effects of the tequila would have worn off after a couple more hours of sleep,” she said, her cheeks flushing.

“Then I'll apologize for waking you, but the forecast was for clear skies and Dalton had the weekend free. I thought you would appreciate getting the roof done as soon as possible.”

“I do, of course,” she agreed. “I just didn't realize it would be this soon.”

“We actually started yesterday,” he told her. “Tearing off the old shingles and replacing the wet plywood. You didn't see the Dumpster at the side of the house?”

“No, I didn't,” she admitted as her sister—fully clothed—crossed the lawn toward them.

“And when we left Marg & Rita's last night, I told you it was because we needed to get an early start today.”

She vaguely remembered him saying something about a roofing job, but she hadn't realized he'd been referring to her roof. “Will you be finished today?” Lauryn asked.

He glanced up at the clear sky. “I can't imagine why not.”

“Perhaps because the men who are supposed to be working are all focused on your conversation,” Tristyn suggested.

He shifted his gaze to his buddies, who were staring down from the roof without any pretense of working. He shook his head, but he knew he really couldn't blame them. “I don't think they're as interested in any conversation as they are in your sister's underwear.”

Lauryn gasped softly and immediately folded her arms over her chest. The action succeeded in covering up her puckered nipples but also pushed up her breasts, enhancing the cleavage displayed by the low neckline of her tank.

“This isn't my underwear,” she denied hotly.

“Then what is it?” he asked.

“My pajamas.”

“Semantics,” her sister said, handing her a robe. “And irrelevant when the curve of your butt cheeks is visible for the workmen and all of your neighbors to see.”

Lauryn shoved her arms into the sleeves of the garment and yanked the belt around her waist, glaring at Ryder the whole time. “This is
your
fault.”

He lifted a brow. “How is it my fault?”

“You were making so much noise on the roof I didn't stop to think about what I was wearing.”

“Or not wearing,” her sister interjected.

Ryder fought against the smile that wanted to curve his lips in response to the words that perfectly echoed his own thoughts. Of course, Tristyn could afford to tease Lauryn because she was wearing actual clothes.