Spotlight by Eden Finley Page 0,41
Lyric to not walk out that door and leave right now?
“You don’t want to fuck things up for Kaylee,” Lyric says. “I get it.”
“She already loves you. If things didn’t work out … That’s why we should probably forget tonight ever happened. Well, apart from the kick-ass song.”
“Agreed.”
Yet, I don’t stop moving until my body presses against his. “There’s only one problem with that.”
“Mm?”
“I don’t think I can.”
Chapter Twelve
Lyric
The words are whispered along my skin, and I know I need to be the bigger person here. I need to walk away because Ryder is asking me to.
His number one priority is Kaylee. I need to respect that.
My number one priority should be keeping my professional life, personal life, and my connection to music all separate from Ryder.
Kissing him will mush all of them together, and I won’t be that guy.
Because realistically, there’s only one way this whole situation ends: badly.
“It’s already forgotten,” I say.
Disappointment makes me want to put the words back in my mouth and swallow them down, but I know I’m doing the right thing.
Ryder’s so close, so tempting.
I want to kiss him because I bet kissing him would be fun. But also, kissing him would be agony.
“I should go,” I say.
“Yeah,” Ryder breathes.
“Ryder …”
Something in his heated gaze snaps. He shakes it off and steps back.
Ryder’s blue eyes lose their brightness for the first time since I’ve known him.
I leave the studio and go to get my bag from the nanny’s quarters. Ryder’s footsteps follow me, but I need him to stop.
“I can walk myself out. Have been doing it for a while now.”
“Right. Sorry. Habit. I always walk my artists out, and I guess I’m still in producer mode.”
“Goodnight.”
“Wait,” Ryder says, and I freeze immediately.
My strength snaps with one fucking word.
One.
In that voice I’ve heard a million times, but he’s changed the way I hear it with a single song. I can’t stop the visceral reaction, the need to obey whatever comes out of his mouth.
I slowly turn back toward him.
“It’s late.”
I deflate faster than a balloon.
“You should take my car instead of the bus.”
“What if there’s an emergency and you need to take Kaylee to the hospital or something? You’ll need the Tesla.”
“I know. I’m saying you should take one of the others. I have plenty.”
My mouth drops open. “You want me to take one of your toys? The toys you haven’t even shown me yet because, in your words, they’re your babies? And no matter how many times I’ve said you trust me with your actual baby, you insist it’s different?”
“You make it sound like I think my cars are more important than Kaylee.”
I cock a brow at him.
“Just follow me before I change my mind,” he grumbles.
Ryder leads me out the front and to the warehouse of cars that sits under the house. On the outside, it looks like a usual three-car garage, but open that sucker up, and it’s like his very own Batcave.
I practically trip over my own feet. “Ferrari. Definitely taking the Ferrari.”
“You’re fired,” Ryder jokes, but the panic in his tone is very, very real.
“I’m kidding. I’d probably drive it twelve miles an hour because I’d be too scared to crash it.” I walk along the squeaky floor. “Mustang at the back looks nice. This little roadster is cute.” I run my hand over the hood of the BMW.
Ryder grabs a set of keys off the wall. “Take the Pontiac.”
I sigh dramatically. “The GTO? If I must. This job has the worst perks.”
“I’m the most terrible boss ever.”
“Right? You almost kiss me and then make me drive your fancy-ass car.”
Ryder purses his lips. “When you put it that way, it sounds wrong.”
“You making sure I get home safe is so wrong.”
“You know what I mean. From the outside, everything that happened tonight now kind of sounds skeevy and gross. Like I’m trying to pay you off or something.”
Our hands touch as I take the keys from him, and I have to remind myself to let him go. “For the record? I’ll never think you’re skeevy and gross. Nothing actually happened. You just have a hard-on for music, I guess.”
“Sure. It was music making my dick hard in there. Nothing else.”
I burst out laughing. “Exactly. It had nothing to do with my long golden locks or my winning smile. Not to mention my sunny disposition and nonjudgmental attitude.”
“You know, you think you’re being sarcastic right now, but apart from your stubborn pretentious streak, you’re practically a Teletubby.”
“Fuck off.”
“A Teletubby with