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A guy with a 12-pack of Coors Light. A mountain man with a nine-inch beard.
“Daisy, stop,” Ryke growls, annoyed at the click click click of the lock button.
He annoyed me a half hour ago by constantly messing with my hair. Normally I love it, but confined in a mini-van—it turned from oh Ryke to ugh Ryke.
“Here.” Ryke tosses my stack of magazines onto my lap. “Read something out loud. I’ll keep a lookout.” He eagle-eyes the motel.
Without a doubt, he’s given me the more enjoyable task of the two. I thumb through the five magazines. All tabloids. All headlined with one of us for the holidays. Maybe because they like doing variations of the story, stretching it in false ways.
In my most dramatic voice, I announce our options, “We have Raisy Turmoil: Why Daisy Calloway will break Ryke’s heart over Christmas!” I flash him the cover. A blown-up photo outside of Lucky’s Diner: me staring off in the distance with his arm over my shoulder.
“Fuck no.” He tosses half his jerky at the magazine.
I smile, glad he doesn’t believe in this scenario. Even if the world thinks my tastes in men change like my hair color.
Throwing aside that tabloid, I read the next one, “Ice Cold Bedroom! All the reasons why Connor Cobalt can’t satisfy Rose Calloway.” I’d rather not embark on that super false story.
“Next,” Ryke agrees.
“Holiday Affair: Lily Calloway has her eyes on other things.” I let out a shocked sound. “They’re so rude.” I turn the magazine to him. In the photo, Lily has Moffy in her arms outside a Lake Tahoe café. Beside her is a specials sign with: Warm Chili Hot Dog. She’s barely even glancing at it.
Ryke scowls darkly. “Fuck ‘em.”
I chuck that tabloid. “This one isn’t as bad…” I clear my throat and recite, “Best Father! Loren Hale…” I trail off, skimming the rest of the words. “Okay it gets bad. Loren Hale wants another kid, but Lily Calloway says no.”
Ryke shakes his head a couple times, still eyeing the motels. “That’s definitely not fucking true.”
“Have you talked to Lo about it?” I dust that magazine off my lap.
“Yeah. He said they’re in agreement that they’ll know when they know.”
I tilt my head. They’ll know when they know. That vague, unclear response actually sounds like something Lo or Lily would say. “Last one,” I tell him. “Drumroll, please.”
He throws a piece of gum at my face.
Ugh Ryke. I throw it back more aggressively, and it hits him in the forehead, his glower forming onto me.
I reach over and drum the steering wheel. Which actually annoys him enough to steal my last magazine from me and read, “Three’s Company…” His voice dies out almost immediately. His face falls, and he stuffs the tabloid between his back and the seat.
“What is it?” I ease away.
“Don’t fucking worry about it.” His jaw tenses, but he’s meeting my eyes, not the motel. “Do you want to stretch outside? We can walk around—”
Quickly, I reach behind him and retrieve the magazine.
“Daisy.”
I lean against my car door and kick him back with my feet, but he grabs onto my legs and just watches me, knowing I’m going to find out one way or the other.
I silently read: Three’s Company! How Lily Calloway jingles Ryke & Loren’s bells this Christmas. The picture: Ryke’s hands on her shoulders, steering her away from an icy patch at the resort’s parking lot. Lo walks on her other side, their fingers laced together.
“Hey.” Ryke extends his arm on the back of my seat, shifting closer to me. “No one believes this fucking garbage, and if they do—fuck them.”
“I know.” My voice is smaller than I hoped. The three-way rumors between Ryke, Lo, and Lily are nothing new. They’ve been here even before I entered the picture, but I guess I thought eventually our love would be strong enough to dissuade them.
It’s disappointing to find out that people would rather pair him with my sister than with me. As soon as I flip through the pages, Ryke tears the magazine out of my grasp.
“Why are you upset?” he asks, his concern boring through me. He wants to fix it.
“How would you feel if all of these magazines said I was fucking Connor Cobalt?” I sit up straighter, my chest an inch from his. “That I love him. I prefer him. I couldn’t care less about you.” Every word stabs my core, and that pain translates in his darkened gaze.
“Don’t fucking say that.”
“It’s the equivalent of what I see all the time.”
He says slowly, “It’s not real, Daisy.”
“It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” I watch his breathing deepen, more understanding, but he can’t erase what people feel or think. Ryke has never cared about his own reputation or how other people perceive him. This is out of his wheelhouse.
“So what am I supposed to fucking do?” he asks, frustration beneath his rough voice. “There’s nothing that can change this.”
“Abbracciami,” I say the Italian word he taught me not long ago.
Hold me.
His hard eyes nearly ease. He pulls me onto his lap, my legs tucked to my chest. As he wraps his arms around my frame, I feel more like his. Like we belong together just this way.
I rest my chin on his shoulder, looking up at him. “Dammi un bacio.” Give me a kiss.
His lips almost quirk upwards, but he kisses me on the nose, then the corner of my mouth. I begin to smile as he nuzzles my cheek, but it fades, my gaze drifting to the windshield. Outside.
A motel door swings open. “Ryke.” I pat his arm until he follows my line of view.
Sandy blonde hair emerges, ski jacket and a pair of skis beneath his arm. Like he’s en route to the resort to hit the slopes. As I watch, I realize that we never really discussed a plan after spotting him.
Ryke picks me off his lap, setting me on the passenger seat. Determination and urgency in his brow.
“What are you going to do?” I ask as he unlocks the car.
“Talk to him.” He has his cellphone in hand. Maybe he’ll record the conversation?
I’m about to go with, but for some reason, my bottom stays glued to the seat. My instincts are saying: do not move, Daisy Petunia Calloway. Sit right there.
Do not move.
Do not move? It’s a strange impulse, but I listen to my gut, especially as Ryke shuts his door. He doesn’t look over his shoulder like he expects me to join.
Is it strange that I’m worried about him? We have no idea if James will recognize Ryke. I just watch from my seat, stiff and hot. I go to turn on the air vents, especially as Ryke sprints up to the guy, waving him down.
James stops in place, confused.
The car is still off, and Ryke has the keys. I unbutton my coat. It may be in the low thirties outside, but my nervous heat won’t leave me until he returns.
Ryke talks but I can’t hear him. James replies. Head shakes. Nods. Hand gesticulations. I can’t read the mood.
I wait for the worst.
Another three minutes, two more nods, and Ryke departs from James with a disgruntled look. He shakes his head at me like nothing.
The door opens. “Fuck that,” Ryke says, starting up the car and slamming the door shut.
“What happened?”
“He said that he can’t even remember his Facebook password—that he’s never been on any forums like I described.”
“Do you think he was lying?”
“I acted like I was a part of the fucking forums, so no. He seemed genuinely fucking confused.” As Ryke peels out of the parking lot, I realize we’re back to the drawing board. Despite coming up short, I liked the alone time and feeling mischievous with Ryke.
I turn to him. “Is this the last stakeout?”
His eyes flit over me, a smile behind them. “When have we ever done any-fucking-thing just once?”
RYKE MEADOWS
Christmas morning. Firepla
ce lit, snow fucking falling. In the log cabin at Lake Tahoe, everyone is curled in fleece blankets, spread among leather furniture. We all take turns opening presents beneath an eight-foot, fully decorated fir tree.
Problem is, we start opening couple gifts, and Daisy and I keep pawning off our fucking turns on other people. Until no one else is left but us.
We share an oversized recliner, all four Calloway sisters dressed in red holiday onesies. Lily’s idea, which Rose loved because of the sisterly togetherness aspect, and Daisy topped her outfit with an elf hat.
The pom-bells jingle as she gestures to Lily. “Doesn’t Moffy have another present?”
On the floor, Lily squints at Daisy like she sees behind her façade. “It’s the couple round. You need to share your present with Ryke and he needs to share his present with you—wait…” Her eyes widen in horror. “Did you two forget to gift each other something?” She searches beneath the tree beside her.
“Yeah we forgot,” Daisy nods. “Sorry.”
Lo is also on the ground, his son playing with a new Black Widow action figure, and then his gaze flits to us. “Why the secrecy? It’s not like we don’t know Ryke gives shit presents to you.”
