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Ryder gets my bags out of the trunk and then shuts it, locking the vehicle simultaneously. My eyes bulge because he’s huge. His tall, muscular frame towers at least a head and a half above mine, and his forearms are easily the size of my thighs. Except his forearms are all muscle, whereas my thighs are soft and pudgy.
So I should be scared and wary, right? Like any smart girl, I should be turning down his offer and making my way to a women’s shelter as we speak. But instead, here I am, going to live with the handsome man. I know I should be frightened, but I’m not for some reason. At least, not in the dangerous sense. Maybe it’s because I’m pregnant? No one would hurt a pregnant lady, right? Hell, Ryder probably considers me damaged goods, and he's probably just being a kindly soul.
Shooting me a quick smile, Ryder strolls up the path to the house, both my bags slung effortlessly across one titanic shoulder. My jaw drops as I turn to look at the front garden for the first time because it’s gorgeous. The property itself isn’t huge, but it’s enclosed by tall, neatly pruned bushes. Meanwhile, behind the bushes, a flawless green lawn rolls up towards the house in perfectly designed rings. Each ring has a border of stark-white pebbles forming a path along the edges, and there’s a Japanese maple off to the right, while what look to be miniature orange trees make up a small bower on the left. The entire look is clean and modern, and even sculptural in some sense. It’s breathtaking.
“Wow, you really are a landscape architect aren’t you?” I breathe in amazement.
Ryder shoots me an amused look while walking up the path.
“Sure am,” he drawls. “Have been for over twenty years now.”
I nod with appreciation.
“So you did all this?”
“Yep,” comes another amused grunt. I follow him inside the cottage, and immediately, a sense of peace descends. Despite being small, the space is quiet, clean, and cool, and decorated in a sparse Japanese style with tatami mats and minimal furniture. There’s a lot of natural light and stillness, for lack of a better word. I wonder if Ryder did the interior décor himself.
“This is really beautiful,” I murmur.
Ryder grins.
“It’s small, but it's all I need,” he says. “I don’t believe in living in a palace when I’m only one person.”
I nod.
“Yeah, McMansions are the worst,” I shudder. “They look and feel gross.”
Ryder grins while striding to a nearby door.
“Yes, but living small also means that there’s only one bedroom in the place. It’s yours, sweetheart,” he says while depositing my bags inside the room.
Immediately, I object.
“Absolutely not!” say quickly. “I’m fine with the couch because I can’t possibly ask you to give up your bedroom for me. It’s too much.”
Ryder shakes his head.
“No, it’s fine,” he growls. “You’re pregnant. You should be comfortable.” The thoughtfulness of his gesture flushes my cheeks and I look away because truthfully, I’m a little embarrassed. I don’t want to tell him myrealreason for not wanting to sleep in his bed because it’s humiliating. My body has been changing so much, and the fact is that some mornings, I wake up and there are two damp spots on my t-shirt. It’s not a huge deal, but the thought of lactating all over Ryder’s sheets is too personal, not to mention he’d probably think it’s really gross. As a result, I want to spare him the gore factor.
“No, please,” I say quickly. “I’m not here to put you out of your own home. I’m fine with the sofa.”
Ryder shoots a long look my way, but then nods, and picks up my bags again. We stride back out into the living room, and into the far corner of the space where a large bookshelf cordons off a small area. There’s a comfortable-looking sofa in a navy print inside, as well as a side table and several potted plants. The space looks like a reading nook with its warm, tranquil appeal. Even better, Ryder sets down my bags and pulls on the bottom part of the small sofa so that it opens into a bed.
“If you don’t want my bedroom, fine, but I'm not having you sleep on the couch like some bum,” he growls with a hint of humor, which makes me smile. “At least take the pull-out couch.”
“It’s perfect, thank you,” I say gratefully, and I mean it because he’s right. This is infinitely better than the homeless shelter. Hell, this is better than my mom’s place because I can already tell it’s going to be peaceful here, as opposed to Angela’s constant yelling and screaming. I can see myself curling up and happily reading with a cup of tea at my elbow, and smile at the handsome man. “This is a cute little nook. What do you use it for?”
“I don’t,” Ryder grunts.
“Oh,” I say, surprised. “Then why -”
He grins.
“I wanted to throw this sofa out but I haven’t gotten around to it yet. It’s here behind this shelf because it doesn’t match the rest of the room.”
“Well, it’s very cozy,” I murmur. “I love it, thank you.”
“Good,” he says gruffly, but I can tell that the fact that I like it pleases him. I peer up at Ryder, trying to get a better look at his expression. There must be a softer side behind this man’s stern exterior, or else he wouldn’t be showing me such kindness. On a whim, I reach out to take his hand, to thank him for letting me stay, even though he doesn’t know me.
