Chapter 16: Chapter Sixteen

The enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted toward her, dragging her out of her sleepy cocoon. Groaning, she buried her face against the too soft pillow—the wet pillow. She bolted upright and noticed her chin was wet, too. She wiped at her mouth. Gross! She’d drooled, something she only ever did when she was in a very deep sleep, usually after a night of heavy drinking. And then she remembered…

Ryder.

Her eyes widened, and her heart jumpstarted in her chest. She looked around frantically, praying she’d had enough sense to keep her distance last night. Thankfully, her bed was empty, and she was fully clothed. In fact, she was still wearing the same clothes she’d gone out in last night. Christ, how much did I drink? There was only a dull ache behind her eyes, which meant she couldn’t have had too much.

“Madison? Are you awake?” Ryder called from the other room.

Oh, God! She scrambled out of bed and rushed into the bathroom, closing the door harder than necessary. There was no way in hell she was going to let him see her like this. And a quick glance in the mirror told her she’d been right. Her hair stuck up in a thousand different directions, her eyes were puffy, and her lips were stained red from the Hurricanes. Just the thought of them had her stomach grumbling in protest. She placed her hand over her belly and took several slow, deep breaths to help the nausea pass.

When she was sure she wasn’t going to throw up, she stripped off her clothes and climbed into the shower. She had no idea what time it was, but she knew check-out was at eleven a.m. Although, if it were close to that time, Ryder would’ve woken her up. Unless that’s what he’d been trying to do when she spazzed out and bolted from bed. Either way, she’d have to hurry. She shampooed her hair, rinsed, then added a generous amount of conditioner, knowing it would take quite a bit to work the knots from her long locks. That’s what she got for not putting her hair up before going to bed.

“Go to sleep, Madison. You’re drunk.”

The memory of Ryder’s voice rushed over her unbidden. So smooth and soft yet playful. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the shower wall. He’d carried her back to the hotel because her feet had hurt. She’d walked across the cool, tiled lobby floor and into the elevator. But once they’d reached their floor, the carpet had been rough on her feet, so he’d carried her again. Only that time, he’d cradled her in his arms, like a husband would carry his new wife across the threshold.

Her eyes snapped open. Where the hell had that thought come from?

“No.” Nausea coiled through her gut. She’d told him about how she needed a fake fiancé. She led her head fall against the shower wall with a thud. “What did I do?” she whined.

But even more horrifying was that she’d admitted she wanted him to be her fake fiancé, and he hadn’t said yes. How the hell was she supposed to face him after that? Shaking her head, she tried to focus on rinsing the rest of the conditioner from her hair, but she couldn’t shake the vivid memory of last night.

He’d carried her into the room and straight to the bed, setting her down gently. He rested his hands on either side of her head and lowered his face. She’d held her breath, waiting. She even licked her lips, hoping it would’ve enticed him. Her eyelids had fluttered as he inched closer, his eyes darkening as his gaze darted from her face to her lips and back again. She reached up and tentatively put her hand on his neck… But instead of kissing her, he’d told her to go to sleep.

Even thinking about it now, her heart raced, and her mouth ached for the feel of his. Not that she really wanted anything to happen—she didn’t—but he did. He’d repeatedly made it clear that he was interested in more than friendship, so why didn’t he take the chance when she presented it? Maybe his refusal to kiss her was a blessing in disguise because she was pretty sure it would’ve ended in much more than just a kiss. Plus, he was a rich kid who reminded her way too much of a certain lifestyle she’d permanently sworn off. Still, the sting of rejection hurt like a bitch, and now she had to face him. There was nowhere for her to run and hide this time.

Shutting off the water, she got out of the shower. She wrapped one towel around her hair and another around her body. All her clean clothes were tucked into her bag, which was on the floor in the living room. She slowly opened the bathroom door and peeked out. Although, she didn’t know why. Of course, Ryder was going to be in the room. It’s not like she was strutting around naked or anything. She was completely covered.

She straightened her shoulders and walked to the living room. Ryder sat on the couch, the blankets he’d used last night were neatly folded and sat at one end with the pillow placed atop the pile. He was fully dressed, complete with his shoes, and there were no traces left of a too-late night spent on Bourbon Street. Did he always look that damn good? His attention was on his cell phone, and he hadn’t acknowledged her yet. Maybe she could snatch her bag and sneak away before he saw her.

“Morning,” he said.

“I thought I smelled coffee.” She motioned toward the steaming cup.

“There’s plenty left if you want some.”

“Thanks.” Coffee did sound good, but she’d rather get dressed first.

“How’re you feeling?” He set his phone on the coffee table and stood, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Her gaze was immediately drawn to his chest and arms, which were covered by a solid gray T-shirt that was stretched perfectly over his muscles. Her traitorous mind was consumed with thoughts of those strong arms holding her, of how solid his chest had felt against her, how warm his body had been.

“Madison?”

The sound of her name snapped her out of her thoughts. For some reason, her name always managed to sound so sensual whenever he said it. “Uh, yeah, sorry. I’m fine. I just need my bag.” She pointed to where it sat on the floor. Why she’d brought it back out here last night, she had no idea.

“Right.” His voice was tight, and he cleared his throat.

She clutched the towel tight to her body and bent over to scoop up her bag. When she straightened, Ryder was staring at her, that same heated look in his eyes that he’d had last night right before he decided not to kiss her.

“It won’t take me long to get ready, then we can get out of here. What time is it anyway?”

“Nine-thirty.”

She nodded but didn’t make an effort to move. It was like his very presence had her pinned in place, unable to move or speak or think. She took a deep breath, and his gaze lowered to her chest that glistened with the remnants of her recent shower. Without thinking, she wiped the water from her chest and then dried her hand on the towel, her palm moving down the length of her torso. She tugged the front of her towel over in a nervous effort to make sure she was fully covered.

“Madison?”

“Huh?” She glanced back up at him.

His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were narrowed. “For the sake of my sanity, will you please go get dressed?”

Flames of heat licked up her neck and erupted on her face. “Oh, right. Yeah, sure.” She turned on her heel and hurried back to the bathroom, but not before she heard him mutter a string of curses that would embarrass even the most hardened sailor.

Twenty minutes later, Madison was dressed, hair done, and she had repacked her bag. She returned to the living room to find Ryder pacing, phone in his hand. “I’m ready whenever you are,” she said.

His head snapped up like she’d caught him doing something he shouldn’t be. “Are you hungry? Do you want to grab some breakfast first? Or we can get something on the road.”

The mention of food made her stomach roll. “No food for me.”

The hint of a smile shone on his handsome face, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking without her having to say the words. He nodded. “All right then. Let’s get going.” He grabbed his suitcase. “You have everything?”

“Yeah, I believe so.”

“Did you remember to get your souvenirs?”

“Oh, shit. Hang on.” She hurried to collect the bag from the nightstand near the bed, and then she met him near the door. “Okay, now I have everything.” She laughed.

“Good.” He held the door for her, and she stepped into the hallway.

They didn’t speak to each other again until they were in his car and back on the highway. “In case I didn’t tell you, thank you for last night. I had fun,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” He switched lanes and passed several cars. “Speaking of last night…”

Her stomach tightened into a knot, and she had to swallow back the urge to hurl all over his expensive car. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

The last thing she needed was to hear him delve into an explanation about why he didn’t kiss her. Or why he didn’t want to pretend to be her fiancé so she could save face with her stepmother. The entire situation was already so fucked up; she didn’t need him making it any worse. Not to mention, she didn’t want to have to explain herself, either. She knew she’d given him mixed signals, and she wasn’t proud of that.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

Eyes wide, she jerked her head in his direction. He was apologizing? “Sorry for what?” As soon as the question was asked, she wished it hadn’t been. She didn’t want to know.

“I crossed the line last night.”

“You did?”

Was she still in an alcohol-induced deep sleep and dreaming? Nothing he said was making any sense. Unless her recollection of last night’s events were completely different than his. Oh, God! Panic seized her mind. Was it possible a lot more happened and she simply didn’t remember? How could she not remember? Ryder was not the type of guy you forgot. She was absolutely positive that if anything had happened, it would be forever branded in her mind.

He nodded and merged back into the right lane. “You’ve said you’re not interested in me, and I can respect that, but there were several times last night when I almost crossed the line you’ve drawn. Plus, you were drunk, and if I’m not mistaken, a little…willing.” He scrunched up his face like it was painful for him to admit that. “And I’m not that kind of guy. I don’t force myself on women, and I sure as hell don’t take advantage of them when they’re drunk, so”—he shrugged—“I’m sorry.”

Every ounce of tension disappeared from her body, and she slumped in the seat. He hadn’t rejected her because he didn’t want her; he’d rejected her because he was a gentleman. Any other guy and she would’ve called bullshit, but not with Ryder. He wasn’t saying those things just to make himself look good. He truly meant them, and his actions proved that.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” she said, refusing to look at him. “I’m sorry for giving you the wrong idea. I didn’t mean to. I don’t drink very often, and this is why.”

He laughed, the sound echoing around the car’s interior, brightening the mood considerably. “So, what you’re saying is I shouldn’t get a room with a stocked mini-bar?” He winked, that familiar twinkle back in his eyes.

“You’re a jerk.” She laughed.

“How about we agree to just start over? As friends.”

She smiled, a sense of ease filling her. “I’d like that.”

And she truly meant it. She’d love to wipe the slate clean and be his friend. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure that was possible. Not because of him, she completely believed he’d do as he said, but she wasn’t so sure she could follow through with their deal. Granted, she didn’t want the life he had—with all his money and trips and expensive things—but she could not deny her growing attraction to him.

Growing. Yeah, right. She almost snorted. She’d been hot for him since the moment she dropped that stupid book on his head and he hadn’t screamed at her. Shifting in her seat, she stared out the window, once again kicking herself for getting in this car with him. She’d set herself up for failure. Or ultimate success. She wasn’t one hundred percent sure which category Ryder fit into. Whichever it was, she had a sinking feeling she was going to lose no matter what.

“Or would fake fiancés be a better description of our relationship?” he asked.

She whipped her head around to stare at him, but she was at a total loss for words.