Spotlight by Eden Finley Page 0,71

to freak out or walk away at any moment.

I can’t let myself get in over my head unless I want major heartache, and who the fuck wants that?

“We should get out,” he says.

“Can I borrow some clothes again? Best thing about dating someone the same size …” Shit. “I mean, not dating.” That’s probably too much of a label for Ryder.

“It’s okay. It’s what we’re doing, I guess.” He turns the water off, conveniently needing to move away from me to do it.

“It was a slip of the tongue,” I say.

He turns back to me. “I decided to come see you play, to sleep with you, to do everything we did last night, the least I can do is give you a label to define it. You told me what you want, and I don’t want to fuck with that, okay? I’m sorry if I suck at all this. I’m not good at …” He struggles to label it again.

“You’re not good at taking something for yourself every now and again?”

His bright blue eyes fill with guilt. “I don’t want you to think that’s all you are to me.”

“I don’t,” I reassure him. “I know this is hard for you.”

“Mm, that’s not all that’s hard.” Ryder smirks.

“Still haven’t had enough?”

“Nope.”

“Too bad we need to get out of the shower, then.” I leave him standing there wanting more. Isn’t that the advice they give single people? Leave them wanting more. Or something? I don’t know. Just like Ryder sucks at having something more, I suck at playing it cool.

We dry off and go back into his bedroom. I can still smell sex, though I don’t know if it’s the sheets or my memory recalling the smell.

I don’t miss the way Ryder looks disappointed when I put my hair up into its usual messy bun, and I put that detail in my back pocket for later.

I have a list of things Ryder likes. So far it’s being treated as a person and not a celebrity. And my long hair. I wish I could put my stunning personality on there too, but I’m not entirely sure how much he likes my smart-assery and how much he’s humoring me.

Ryder throws me a pair of jeans and a plain Henley.

“What, no shirt with your face this time?”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

“I’m so, so disappointed,” I say dryly.

“You will have to return that shirt one day. I know you love it, but it’s the only one I have.”

“Love, love, love it. I think it got mixed up in the wash at home. I’ll find it. Chase probably stole it seeing as he’s such a big fan of yours.”

“At least someone in your family has taste.”

Just as we reach downstairs and start picking up all the clothes we threw around the place in our rush last night, the front door opens, and Ryder and I pause in our steps.

“Lucky we cut that shower short.” Ryder shoves his pile of clothes at me. “Go throw them upstairs.”

“Maybe next time we should ask her for a specific time she’s coming back.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Ryder’s too distracted trying to get to his daughter to notice he just agreed to a next time.

One night without her and he already misses her.

I take the stairs while he flies into her arms and Maggie watches with a smile on her face.

In her civilian clothes, she’s a lot less intimidating, but damn, they make a pretty family.

I kinda feel like I’d be intruding on that if I went down there, so I hang back at the top of the stairs.

Maggie spots me while Kaylee tells Ryder all about what she did with her mom last night. “You’re here. On a Sunday.”

Kaylee turns to see who Maggie’s talking to, and her little face lights up.

I walk down the steps to meet them in the foyer. “Silly me. I thought it was Monday!”

Maggie laughs like she doesn’t believe me.

Kaylee eyes me skeptically.

Ryder steps in. “Daddy is helping Lyric record some music. He’s here to use the studio.”

Kaylee looks like she believes him.

Maybe she’s figured out I’ve been hiding vegetables in her food and now all trust between us is gone. Or maybe she’s smart enough to know people generally don’t mix up days.

“Can I watch?” Kaylee asks.

“I wouldn’t mind watching,” Maggie says.

Ryder’s bluff is being called, and I’ve got nothing. I look at him, waiting for him to shut it down.

“Uh, sure.”

Okay, that’s not shutting it down.

“Umm, I don’t know how I feel about an audience,”