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At least the man left me with something. He made me see I was more than my name. I forgot that for a while last year when I came running here under the thumb of my family, but once the shock of his betrayal wore off, I realized I was right back where I had promised myself I would never be, living under the Duchane law. As much as I hated to admit it now, Ryder was right: I needed to be my own person. The question now was what was I going to do?
And why was he coming here?
I stared down at the phone in my hand and pulled up that article one more time, reading it more carefully and trying to breathe while I did so. Oxygen, I found, was helpful for comprehension.
I can’t think of a more fitting place to grow the Worlds Collide app and software than Edenvale. The college town atmosphere paired with local venues, attractions, and the outdoor recreation Colorado is known for made it an easy choice. Not to mention the incredible businesses we’ve been able to partner with in Edenvale and the surrounding areas.
I stared at the phrase Worlds Collide. How many times had he used that phrase to describe what we had together? The debutante and the farm boy. While staring at the name of his product and the phrase I once adored, I did something I shouldn’t have. I tapped on a folder that I should have deleted long ago. Why I saved the emails, I didn’t know. Perhaps, at first, I thought I would wake up from the bad dream to find Ryder as true as I thought he was. When my wakeup call never came, I scoured them to see if I’d missed something. Surely I had missed the clues. But no. There wasn’t any hint in any of his daily “Chief” emails to indicate he was planning on breaking my heart. Maybe that was his plan. Perhaps he was one of those men who wanted his cake and to eat it too. Had I not seen those pictures, he would have gotten quite the cake—a seven-layered rum cake with orange blossoms, white roses, and gardenias. Ryder thought it was over-the-top. He’d wanted a simple chocolate cake made with his momma’s recipe, topped with a tacky plastic bride and groom. No way was my momma going for that. We’d compromised and decided that would be the groom’s cake.
I shook my head. I shouldn’t be thinking of all this nonsense. I should be deleting this file folder. My thumb hovered over the trashcan icon. I closed my eyes. Just do it, Shelby. I was really going to do it this time. Really, I was. Then I heard Ryder laugh at me and say, “What are you so afraid of?” He’d asked me the same thing when I’d hesitated to give him my number the first time he’d asked for it at the concert where we’d met.
I thought back to that summer night at the outdoor amphitheater where the sultry air landed on my skin, making it glisten and cling to my sundress. The country rock band gave the night its own pulse. The darker it got, the more intoxicated people became. Inhibitions lowered and strangers began to dirty dance with each other in the aisles. Some of my coworkers from the hospital I used to work at as a midwife decided to partake in not only the abundant alcohol but the sensual aisle dancing. It just so happened that they hooked up with some of Ryder’s friends. Being the only sober people in the crowd, we were left to stare at each other. His brown eyes penetrated mine. Even from a distance I could tell he spelled trouble, with his dark blond hair that fell just below his chin and his tanned skin decorated with several tattoos. Oh, did Momma hate those, but I loved to trace their lines with my finger, to watch his skin raise, especially around the one of my name across his heart.
I blew down my blouse, trying to cool off. I should stop thinking about him, but my mind refused to. It went right back to the night where it all began. He had flashed me a crooked grin when he caught me staring at him from two rows up. I bit my lip and pretended I hadn’t noticed. He wouldn’t be ignored. He jumped over the seats that were separating us and landed next to me with a smile that said I know you like what you see. Did I ever, but he was not the sort of man I was used to. He wasn’t bred to live and breathe boardrooms. No, he was wild and unfettered, born to live life on his own terms. But he was smart. Even that night, he knew not to push it with me. He stood close by singing along with the band and seducing me with his crooner voice without speaking directly to me. For an hour he said nothing other than to glance my way and smile between songs. He let me come to him.
