The Lost Sister (Sister Series, #8) Page 12

  “Anything to drink to start?” the server asked.

  “Do you want a glass of wine?” he asked her when she didn’t reply. She nodded and he ordered a bottle of the house wine. The server left and still, Tara glanced around with some trepidation that seemed to affect her negatively. Her lips pursed and her discomfort seemed palpable. The restaurant was decent, but not extravagant.

  “You okay?”

  She lowered her face, clasping her hands together under the table where he could not see. “I—I’m not dressed right. I just… I didn’t have anything else to wear. I don’t have much of a wardrobe yet…”

  Ryder wore dark slacks and a button-down shirt. He cringed inside as he realized his mistake. He wanted to impress her, take her on a real date, and he only succeeded in making her feel uncomfortable. He knew, didn’t he? All about her restricted wardrobe. Aside from the cafe’s uniform, he knew he’d seen her in the same jeans she was wearing now and only a few plain shirts.

  And those sneakers. Hard to forget the sneakers that seemed to be her most prized possession.

  At a loss for how to salvage his mistake, he said, “It’s not that formal of a place.”

  Her gaze lifted for a moment and she drilled her eyes into his with a scowl. Then she shook her head and turned away. “I grew up with a family fortune. I know how to dress and behave in places like this. And this”—she swiped her hand down the front of her—“is not acceptable.”

  He learned more about her in that one statement than she’d revealed to date. He cleared his throat, unsure of how to answer or even proceed. “Well, most people can’t see half of your body because of the tablecloth, and besides, we don’t know anyone.”

  “Great,” she mumbled.

  “And honestly?”

  She shrugged, sipping her ice water. “What?”

  “Honestly, you’re the prettiest woman here right now, so no one cares what you wear.”

  Her gaze shot up and her eyebrows lowered. “I am not. And… that’s so stupid. Like that excuses me for not being appropriately dressed? Not how it works.”

  He shrugged. “Well, for guys, it kind of is. Most of us never even notice what you all wear and when or how you judge others for what they wear.”

  “I’m not clueless. I just don’t have much to choose from right now.”

  “I didn’t bring you here to make you feel stupid or… or like what you have isn’t good enough.”

  “I know,” she said softly with her gaze still down.

  He reached across the table where her left hand rested on the white tablecloth. Taking her hand in his, he squeezed it and her head jerked up at his touch. “I’m sorry. I think you’re truly lovely and I never thought you didn’t look ‘right.’ It’s my intent to have fun with you. I don’t want you to hate it. Do you want to go?”

  Her gaze scanned over him, starting with his forehead, sliding over his face and neck, and landing on their joined hands. She licked her lips. “No. I don’t want to go.” She straightened her shoulders. “You’re right; it doesn’t matter what I look like. It matters that I’m here, and I deserve to enjoy this lovely place… with you. Because you were kind enough to invite me.”

  He held her gaze when she lifted her eyes again to his. “Tara… you know I asked you because I like you, right?”

  “I… I guess so.” She seemed ready to faint from the admission.

  “Just relax. What you wear or say is insignificant… I’m not going to bolt no matter what happens, and physically speaking? I think you’re nothing less than beautiful. Really. It isn’t the clothes… or the shoes that make it so.”

  She couldn’t seem to hold his gaze, but her mouth tweaked up in a smile at the mention of her shoes. “You noticed them?”

  “What? That you had to endure a hard time? Yeah, I kinda figured that out.”

  She dropped her hands, somewhat astonished now. “What? How?”

  “Well, mostly by your shoes. At first, you were wearing someone else’s cast-off shoes. And you limped in them so I figured they weren’t very comfortable for you. You seemed to have begun your life on September twenty-second, the same day you started working for Chloe. I thought you probably ran away from a domestic situation, or hard times of some sort. I noticed after a few weeks that you managed to buy a brand new pair of tennis shoes and you began to move around with a renewed energy and vigor. Those shoes made you so happy. Happier than any other article of clothing ever made anyone, at least as far as I’ve witnessed. You kept glancing down at them, moving them backward and forward and you stared at them, as if in abject wonder that you had them on. Such pride shone on your face. Pride that they were yours.”

  Her cheeks flushed and she shook her head. “You noticed all that?”

  “Yeah.”

  She drew in a breath. “Do you… need to ask?”

  “Do you need to tell me?”

  Her eyes squeezed shut. She let out a long breath. “I really don’t want to talk about it. It—it makes me sad. It was a domestic situation. I got away from it and came here… Can’t that be enough for now?”

  “Yes. It can be enough for us to have a meal together.” Her eyes popped open and her smile was soft.

  “Thank you, Ryder.”

  He was dying to know what the domestic situation was. After all, he was only human. Wanting to know what another didn’t tell you was totally natural, right? There were innumerable causes for her to show up in Silver Springs packing practically nothing and needing a job. Most likely? An abusive ex. Perhaps she got kicked out. Or she left him. His stomach clenched. Was she hurt badly by whoever it was? Physically? Mentally? Sexually? He really had no idea. However, if anyone had been as desperate, woebegone, or in need of help as Tara Aderly had been when he first met her at the café, he’d have been astonished. He understood why Chloe decided to give her a chance without any real reason to. Tara practically oozed her sadness from her skin. Her eyes were solemn and sad with an underlying vulnerability. Something about the way she quietly went about her life, never complaining, and working so hard to take care of herself totally intrigued him. Chloe often remarked how tirelessly Tara worked, often taking extra shifts, and always so grateful for the work and the money she earned, even when it wasn’t very much. She seemed to think it really was. Until tonight, Ryder never once heard Tara voice a complaint about any of the material things she so obviously lacked.

  They ordered their dinner and the salads appeared not long afterwards. The conversation moved on to more natural, light-hearted subjects after that. Tara asked a lot of questions about his work and fishing, as well as what else he and Wyatt did in their spare time. He told her about his parents, his three brothers, and the gaggle of cousins Wyatt had. Only six, but when they were all together, they seemed like a crowd in his opinion.

  He hadn’t learned much about Tara, only that she’d grown up somewhere in northern California in a rich family that she no longer had any contact with. What did she do? Run away with the wrong guy? Did they disown her because she wouldn’t listen to them? Was she now afraid to go back home after realizing they were right about him? Was he some kind of loser? Did he abandon her here?

  She ate her entire meal and they both saved room for dessert. When they left the restaurant, Tara kept her head ducked down, crossing her arms over her stomach, and obviously embarrassed by her casual jeans, which were ripped on one thigh and frayed on the other knee. They were light colored jeans that tapered down to her prized athletic work shoes.

  Once inside his truck, Ryder asked, “Would you like to see a movie now? Or go home?” He hesitated before asking the question he really wanted the answer to. “Or come over to my house? We could have a drink and…” He trailed off, rather glad for the darkness to hide the blush he could feel filling his face. He ran a hand through his hair. And what? Please have sex with me? You’re the first hot girl to arrive in this valley… for so long. Too long.

  But Ryder knew it was a little more than that. Like the way
she held her face half turned down but was still looking at him. Or the way her hands often kneaded her knuckles back and forth from her nerves. And the kindness she always displayed to people, like Gary at the café, who was so smitten with her, it was almost embarrassing. She was patient and sweet to him, never once crossing the line or mocking his obvious crush on her. She always engaged him in conversation without ridiculous flirting that could make him think there was no way she’d ever like a guy like him. Sometimes, Ryder almost wondered if she could like him, despite his obesity.

  “Where’s Wyatt?”

  “At my parents’ house,” he said, carefully omitting for the night.

  “We could… wine… I mean, we could go and…” She gave up trying to straighten out her mangled sentence.

  “We could. And we will.” He answered without laughing. She nodded her appreciation and they drove the half-hour back to his farmstead. Pulling in, the darkness enveloped them with only one yard light to provide illumination.

  “Wow, this is the real country,” she said softly.

  He grinned at her. “It sure is. I grew up with it, so it’s pretty comfortable to me. I forget sometimes that it might not be that way for everyone.”

  “We always lived in the city. I have so little experience with the country, not like you do.”

  “Or country hobbies.”

  She smiled and repeated, “Or country hobbies.”

  The house felt oddly silent when they entered it. No Wyatt. It seemed pretty dead without him around. He was always moving and prattling on, his contagious laughter squealing with delight all the time. Turning the wall lights on, Ryder nodded towards the couch. Daisy wandered down from his bedroom. Her tail wagged happily as she greeted him before sauntering over to Tara. He appreciated that about his lab; she wasn’t ever hyper, but always calm and friendly. Although she was happy to see everyone and share her love with them, she never jumped around or bugged anyone. “I’m just going to feed her real quick,” he said over his shoulder as he removed his coat off and walked into the kitchen.

  She followed him, setting her purse and coat down on the table. Feeling nervous again, she began twisting her hands together. He finished his dog duties and quickly went about getting a bottle of wine. Tara felt better when she had something to do, a way to busy herself. She wasn’t comfortable being idle, something Ryder had noticed during the last few months.

  She gratefully took the glass of wine he offered her with a smile and turned to sip it. Walking over to a wall in the dining room, she studied the family pictures that hung there. Ebony made a photo collage. It contained pictures of both their families, all circled around Wyatt’s birth. There were many shots of the three of them, and Wyatt in various stages until he was eighteen months, when her presence abruptly ended. Ryder managed to add a few more shots of Wyatt as he grew, but photography wasn’t something he thought or cared about much. Ebony appeared to have been set on making a happy home for them, until… she no longer wanted to. Ryder shook his head while nearly draining half the glass of wine to ignore the sudden tensing in his body from thinking about his ex.

  “Your wife is incredibly beautiful.”

  He turned back when Tara’s voice filled the room.

  “Ebony? Yeah, she is beautiful.”

  “How long were you together?”

  “Six years.” His heart started to beat harder. It still hurt. Even after six years. Six decent, passionate, good years, or so he believed deep in his core, and then she left. She just walked away. Ryder never imagined she’d choose to abandon him and her family; but worst of all, how could she abandon her son?

  “That’s a long time, Ryder.” Her gaze was fixed on him. He could feel her examining him and he downed the rest of the alcohol.

  “Yeah, it was.”

  “You don’t like talking about her,” Tara stated as a fact.

  He shrugged as he set the glass down on the granite bar. “Does anyone like talking about their exes? What divorced spouse doesn’t feel wronged or hurt or angry? That’s why they’re exes.”

  “I wouldn’t know. I never had any,” she tersely replied, sucking in a breath for courage. His gaze sharpened on her. Was she saying that she was a virgin? He stepped back in utter astonishment. That wasn’t what he pictured at all. Not that he assumed anything about her, but he always believed it was just a fact of life. The only virgins he knew were teens, not women he might decide to ask out. That made him wonder what kind of domestic situation did she escape from?

  Then she continued, “Believe it or not, this is actually my first real date.”

  “Your first date?”

  She turned and twirled the wine in the glass and replied, “I mean, I’ve had sex with men and all that… I meant, a date where it’s not just having sex. I’ve never been out on an actual date. I mean… my past isn’t anything traditional.”

  To say the least. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Sit down. Relax. I’m not… I didn’t ask you out to get anything from you. I had a lot of fun with you the other day. You’re nice to my kid—”

  “But I would be a terrible choice for… anything permanent or... you know. I’m not a good influence on kids… I wouldn’t be a…” She stopped her rambling and lifted her face with a little smile. “I can’t even complete a thought.”

  “Tara?” he said finally.

  “Yes?”

  “Why don’t you sit down and relax? You don’t have to marry me or be a mother to my child. You can drink wine here and I’ll take you home afterwards. Or… hey, I have a hot tub. You could borrow a swimsuit and we could get in that… and just relax. Do whatever you want. You don’t have to do anything or be anything you don’t want to do or be.”

  Her shoulders fell downwards in obvious relief.

  He tilted his head. “Do you always feel like you owe people something just for occupying the same vicinity?”

  Her smile was self-deprecating. “Actually, I kind of do. My mother…” Tara stepped closer to set her empty glass down on the kitchen counter beside his. “My mother was very controlling and demanding. She insisted that I learn how to dance when I was very young.”

  “You’re a dancer?” Somehow, having a wealthy family and now learning that Tara was a dancer didn’t fit. The woman he knew wore shoes that were too big and uncomfortable for her and nothing more than jeans and plain shirts out on a date.

  “I was. I used to compete in ballet and contemporary dance starting from the time I was eleven years old and onwards. I was good too. But I lacked the height required for professional dancing. My mother adored the dance world and her place in it so she pushed me hard. Ridiculously hard. Looking at you and Wyatt, and what a childhood should be, it was never like that for me. Not with my mother. She was always demanding something of me. Eat less. Eat more nutritious foods. Lift weights. Practice. Practice. Practice. That was mandatory. Comb your hair. Put your makeup on more neatly… on and on her commands and constant criticism followed me.”

  “She was mean too?” he finally supplied when her voice drifted off.

  A small smile brightened her sad expression. “You remembered. Yes, she was mean.”

  “I have a feeling that’s the abridged version of it.”

  She nodded. “I haven’t talked about her for a lot of years. I’m pretty rusty at it.”

  “That’s how I feel about my ex.”

  She smiled. “Okay, hint taken, I’ll quit digging for info about her. But she is beautiful. So much so it’s intimidating.”

  “You realize you see her all the time in Chloe. You already knew that. And by the way, you’re not exactly unattractive.”

  She shrugged. “Chloe isn’t exactly the same as Ebony. You can tell by how she dresses in those pictures and her hair is completely different.” That was true. Chloe kept her hair curly and it fell over her forehead in a kind of sexy, wayward bounce. Ebony wore her hair much shorter and had it straightened.

  “She’s not here though,” he
said softly, raising his eyebrows. “She chose not to be.”

  “And what if she chose to come back?” Tara inquired. Ryder sucked in a long breath. Unfathomable. He could not imagine that moment, that meeting, the anger… The hatred that filled him was instantaneous.

  “She wouldn’t be welcome if she did.”

  “Except… you share a son with her.”

  “Yes. A son that she abandoned!” He sighed and pressed his index finger to his temple. “Look, I don’t have lingering hope that my ex will come back and we’ll suddenly become a happy family, pretending the last three years didn’t happen. Okay? I would have to allow her into my son’s life because he deserves that relationship. But as far as I’m concerned? Our relationship is done forever.”

  She nodded and their gazes locked before she asked, “You said you have a hot tub?”

  He grinned, happily releasing the tension. “Yeah. You wanna get in it?”

  “Yes.”

  He turned, glad to have something to do, and came back carrying a pair of his swim shorts and a dark t-shirt. “You’ll have to hold them up, but they’ll work, I think.”

  She smiled and disappeared into the bathroom. When she came out, he saw her long legs poking out of the drooping drawers that she clutched around her waist and the oversized T. Her hair was piled on her head with a rubber band. Ryder wore another pair of shorts. Her gaze ran up and down him, seeming to spark with pleasure, or so he believed. Interest. Attraction? God, he hoped so. He had it for her in spades.

  He took her hand in his and led her through the house to the small patio where the hot tub was located. He had taken off the cover while she was changing. She smiled, suddenly utterly thrilled. So was he at observing her visible pleasure. He let her go and she slipped over the side and he used the stairs. She sighed as she sank into the hot, steaming water. Closing her eyes, her facial expression glowed with unbridled pleasure. Ryder had to turn away when his body reacted to the look of ecstasy on her face. The steam wafted up between them, and it felt so good against the cold March air. Stars were temporarily obscured by the clouds. Her t-shirt billowed around her until she grabbed it and stood up. Then it did the opposite, sticking to her skin and clearly outlining her ample chest.