Spotlight by Eden Finley Page 0,55
can try to figure out how we could all fit together.”
His hesitance is unnerving to say the least. But what’s the alternative? I walk away? That’s not gonna happen.
“Let’s play it by ear,” I say.
Ryder’s face lights up, and even though this is risking a lot—my job, my demo, and my heart—I think it’s a risk worth taking.
Because when Ryder kisses me, everything makes sense.
I don’t know how, only that it does.
Ryder’s promise of more to come if I manage to get my two songs recorded has the rest of the afternoon flying by.
Maybe getting off together is what we needed to do to be productive, because despite smelling like him and wearing the cum-stained evidence, when dinner rolls around, we’ve got two finished and polished songs on my demo. Ryder wants at least one more song, possibly two, but we’re done for tonight.
When I walk out of the booth, a sense of accomplishment washes over me and makes me smile. It widens when I throw myself into the seat beside Ryder and he leans over to kiss my cheek.
I cock an eyebrow at him, but he shrugs.
“Testing it out.”
“And?”
“And I hope I can keep doing it.”
I know what he’s promised me isn’t much, and the thought of this trial date—or whatever tonight is—not working out churns my stomach. But stepping back and pretending something isn’t going on between us won’t work. We’ll end up here again. I’m sure of it.
Ryder leans back in his seat. “What do you feel like for dinner?”
“I could go for some Indian.”
“Hmm, spicy food is not really the right choice for what I have planned later.”
The cheeky look on his face takes me off guard. Oh, yeah, this could totally work between us.
“I have no idea what you mean? I’m innocent.”
Ryder scoffs. “Of course you are, but fine. If you want Indian, we’ll get Indian.”
I narrow my eyes. “Something else instead?”
Ryder smiles triumphantly. “I know what to order.”
I’m not sure if we should take this further tonight because we’re in this weird area between dating and not, but I want the possibility.
Being the Ryder Kennedy would make dating hard. Being a single father would make it harder. He can’t date like a normal person.
It kinda takes the romance out of it a little, but being with him might be worth it.
He orders, and while we wait, Ryder leads me into the fancy, put together part of the house, where he tells me to land my ass on the big, soft sectional couch in front of the big-screen TV.
“You know, I’m under no illusion that you actually have your shit together, so this side of the house doesn’t intimidate me like it used to.”
“You say such sweet things. I’m totally put together and proper and not at all dysfunctional.”
“How many times over the last few hours did you check your phone to see if there was anything from Maggie?”
Ryder scowls. “Just for that, you don’t get any popcorn.”
I grab my chest. “Hit me where it hurts.”
He smiles. “I’ll be right back.”
Okay, so I might have been bluffing. This part of the house still makes me feel like I don’t belong here. Especially when left alone.
I shift on the seat, trying to get comfortable, but the softness reminds me that the reason I don’t fit is because I’m not used to being in expensive places.
Which is weird considering my brother’s place isn’t exactly a hole, and I’ve never felt out of place there. Though, sometimes when I leave the pool house and venture into the main house, I feel like I’m intruding, even though Chord and Brenna assure me I’m not.
The pool house is more what I’m used to living in. Small, basic, and no-frills.
Ryder eventually comes back with a giant bowl of popcorn and a heap of candy.
“Where have you been hiding this?” I sit up as he splays it all out on the coffee table.
“In the big kitchen. Far away from little eyes who would want to eat it all. You’d be surprised how many artists need a sugar kick while recording.”
“Yeah?”
“Harley used to be the worst. Our handlers had to guard him. While they were keeping an eye on our drug use, they also had to make sure Harley wasn’t sneaking out and filling up on M&M’s.”
“Who knew Harley Valentine was such a badass.”
Ryder laughs. “Right? He loves the hard stuff.”
He takes the spot next to me, and I lean back, resting my arm along the top of the couch.
“What do you want