watched Reese leave the field, each minute like a bomb ticking down to detonation. He’d been cruel to her. He’d been selfish, and, God, she thought he was going to father someone else’s child. Reese wouldn’t be easy to convince she should give him another shot.
But he still had to try.
“Suck it up,” he told himself, gaze shifting up the side of her building. He’d never been there but had learned, from an excited Cat, what building Reese had moved into.
“I’m only telling you because I know what’s best for her,” Cat said, more humor in her voice than Ryder thought was necessary.
“And what’s best for her?” he asked.
“You, you big idiot. Go get her.”
There was no traffic on Baronne Street, unusual for a Sunday night. Ryder was glad for the seclusion. It meant they hadn’t been followed. They hadn’t been discovered, but then Ryder had been the only one in the know.
He nodded to the security guard, half-sleeping, his attention faltering from the security channel and the small monitors of each floor and the parking garage and the tablet on his desk playing an episode of Game of Thrones.
The man paused the episode when he spotted Ryder, smile sliding up as he stood. “Mr. Glenn,” he greeted, his excitement obvious in how wide his eyes grew, but seeming able to maintain his cool as he offered the quarterback his hand.
Ryder shook it, nodding back at the man. “I’m here to see…”
“2-C. Go on up.” Ryder got a foot from the elevator when the man called after him. “Great damn season this year,” he told Ryder. “I hope you and Miss Noble can repeat next season.”
“Thanks, man. I hope so, too.”
His heart beat in time with his footsteps, each clip of his heel like a hammer slamming inside his chest. Ryder had never been this nervous. But there he stood in that elevator, hands clammy, throat knotted up, fingers shaking as that small box climbed higher and higher. He gave a half-hearted thought about stopping the thing and finishing the rest of the ride in the stairway, figuring he could get to her apartment faster, but then thought better of it.
Breathe, he told himself, wiping his palms against his pants. Just breathe.
He heard her calling behind the door just minutes after he rang the bell. He couldn’t hear her walking toward him, but he did catch the low sigh she released, probably when she looked through the peephole.
Ryder swore he felt his heart stop as the deadbolt unlatched and Reese’s door slid open.
She didn’t speak, gaze mixing from worry to wariness. Then, Reese moved her eyebrows up, a silent question that was a veiled attempt to hide whatever it was she felt at that moment.
Reese went on watching him, features tense, as though she wasn’t sure what he wanted or why he’d driven across town to see her at ten at night.
“It was Hanson,” he said, betting she thought he sounded as stupid as he did.
“What was Hanson?” she asked, hip leaning against the door.
He glanced over her shoulder, wishing she’d ask him inside, but didn’t make the request. “The stuff about us at Duke? Turns out Hanson wanted shit on you. He hired a P.I. that was easy for Cat to buy herself.”
“Cat hired the P.I.?”
Ryder stuck his hands in his pockets, nodding once before he exhaled. “She said he…” To his left the elevator dinged, and he shot a glance back inside Reese’s apartment. “Can I come inside?”
Reese squeezed the door between her fingers, waiting a half a second before she shrugged, backing up to wave Ryder inside. “So, Cat hired the guy Hanson hired?” she asked, walking ahead of him into her living room.
The place was nice—clean, organized, the furnishings classy, a little feminine—all things Ryder’s place wasn’t. Reese fit in here, even if she didn’t realize it. She folded her arms; the stance made her look nervous, then fucking tempting, when her arm brushed against her stomach and lifted the tank she wore, exposing her toned abs.
Ryder had to look away, avoid the lush sight of her naked skin so close to him. He focused on her face, the beautiful contours of her features, the high cheekbones, the full, perfect mouth.
“Ryder?” she asked, reminding him that she’d asked a question.
“Yeah…” He cleared his throat before he continued. “Cat got curious how the DJs found out so she paid off one of their interns. Seems Billy and Bud don’t care so much about being nice to their