Ryder's Bride (Brides Bay Book 1) Read online

  “Trust me, they won’t,” he said drily as he turned to head for the stage. If there was one thing the folks of Brides Bay loved, it was a nice bit of local drama.

  * * *

  Suddenly, Ry was right there beside her, having materialized out of the dark bar like an apparition—a brawny, gorgeous apparition in a tight polo shirt that did amazing things to his shoulders and chest.

  Claire had spotted him the moment she walked onto the stage. Though the lighting was dim, her senses had picked him up like a pulsating blip on a radar screen. She was so keyed into him that it was crazy. And more than a little disturbing.

  Who the heck was that sitting with him? Not a local, for sure. Pretty and clearly vivacious, the girl gazed at him with what looked like adoration. An ex-girlfriend, maybe? Who else would show up at the Dory with him tonight?

  He couldn’t have known she’d be playing. The owner had called her less than two hours ago to ask if she’d be willing to sub for the scheduled band. She was surprised Ry hadn’t bundled the girl up and headed for the door the moment he saw her emerge from behind the stage.

  And yet here he was on the stage now, right at her side.

  “I know this is a surprise, but how about I give you a hand for a few numbers?” he murmured into her ear. His warm breath caressed her skin.

  Claire repressed an involuntary shiver as she worked to get her brain fully functioning. He wanted to go on stage with her? Knowing him as she did, that would be ten kinds of weird.

  “Are you serious?” It was all she could manage.

  “Look, my sister insisted, so please don’t make me look like a jerk in front of her. She really wants to hear me play.”

  Claire felt her jaw drop. “Your sister?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  Speechless, Claire handed him her guitar.

  He took up a position to the right and slightly behind her, moving out of the spotlight.

  “Well, here’s a surprise for you, folks. Ry Griffin has kindly offered to accompany me on guitar!” Despite her nerves, Claire managed to force plenty of enthusiasm into the introduction.

  Sustained applause greeted him as he slung the guitar strap over his shoulder. An exception was Meg, sitting at a table near the front with Sylvie St. Germain. Meg’s scowl suggested she might leap onto the stage and drag him out of there.

  Focus, Claire. You can do this.

  While she’d survived a lot worse situations, right now her heart felt like it might break all over again.

  “Fire and Rain, okay?” she said over her shoulder. They’d played that number at the festival.

  Ry nodded and hit the introductory chords.

  Claire suddenly felt naked. She didn’t much like being in front of an audience without a guitar to hide behind. Still, she pulled in a deep breath and launched into the song. Ry smoothly followed along, and her voice and his instrument blended as comfortably and easily as old friends strolling on a beach.

  Or lovers walking hand in hand.

  But she and Ry weren’t lovers anymore, and that was just about killing her.

  * * *

  He’d stayed with her through the entire set. After each number, she’d turned to him with inquiring eyes, and each time he’d simply nodded, a sign that she should tell him what tune was next. As usual, his playing was superb, dazzling the crowd with his solos even though he was using her less than stellar instrument.

  After the set, he’d insisted on introducing her to his stepsister. Claire found herself immediately liking the blond girl with the pixie haircut. And as uncomfortable as she was with the situation, she couldn’t help thinking how nice it was that Ry and his sister seemed to be pretty close. Even a dedicated loner like him needed family who loved him.

  “Your voice is awesome, Claire,” Samantha enthused. “You totally sound like a star, as far as I’m concerned. You and Ry should drop a record and go out on tour. I’m serious.”

  “That’s really sweet of you to say so. I’m afraid though, that when it comes to singing, I make a better concierge and pet sitter.”

  Samantha made a scoffing sound, then shifted her attention to her brother. “Okay, so now I have to ask you something. How long have you two been a thing?”

  Claire’s brain froze.

  “Really, Sam?” Ry muttered.

  “Come on, you’d have to be blind to miss it.” His sister’s eyes went wide as she took in his stony reaction. “Oh, oh. Did I just stick my foot in it?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Claire said. “We did date for a little while, but we’re just friends.”

  Ry just kept glaring at his sister.

  Samantha gave them a rueful smile. “I’m sorry, guys. I was getting excited there for a minute, thinking he’d found somebody pretty great.”

  “Claire takes care of my house and Stanley when I’m gone,” Ry said in a tight voice. “Now, let’s change the subject, okay?”

  “Whatever you say, big brother.”

  Even though his description of their relationship was technically accurate, the words had done a Texas two-step on Claire’s heart.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me, Samantha. I need to have a word with my business partner before the next set.” She stood and forced a smile. “Will you be staying in town for a while?”

  Samantha glanced at Ry. “Just a couple of days. I have a friend in Philly to visit next, then I have to get back to San Francisco.”

  “Well, if I don’t see you again before you leave, it was really lovely to meet you.”

  “Likewise. I’m sorry…”

  Claire shook her head. “Not to worry.”

  Ry still looked royally pissed off.

  “Thanks for helping out with the set,” Claire said to him, making it clear she was going to do the next one solo. “I hope you both enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  “Thanks, Claire,” Samantha said.

  Ry just gave her a brusque nod.

  While she figured he might be ticked off that she wasn’t inviting him to continue on stage, it surely must be his sister’s innocent blunder that had gotten his goat.

  The hell with you, dude. Claire was so tired of trying to figure him out.

  Samantha was right about one thing. Everything had felt so good—so right—when Ry was at her side onstage. For half an hour, she’d even started to think there might be some hope for them after all.

  But now his crushing words and stony looks had demolished that fantasy forever.

  Chapter 25

  Derek and Jane had the kind of security you’d expect from a couple worth a few hundred million dollars. Ry was big on security too, but he didn’t relish the idea of living behind seven-foot walls and a big-ass metal gate.

  After Jane buzzed him through, he strolled up the tree-shaded walk to the big stone house overlooking the bay. It was three days since he’d played the set with Claire at the Dory, and he was still thinking about her all the time. When Sam jumped in with her out-there comments, it had hit him the wrong way and hit him hard. It was like his sister had picked up on how things should be, not how they actually were. Like he and Claire should be together, and not just to play music once in while.

  That was no excuse for taking his confusion out on Claire. He’d pretty much acted like a first-class asshat, and he needed to make things right with her.

  Another bout of emptiness had crashed down on him yesterday after Sam left for Portland. He should have been riding a high after reconnecting with his sister, and yet he felt hollow inside. Even Stanley’s enthusiastic company hadn’t been enough to lift his dark mood.

  Derek was waiting for him at the massive oak front door and ushered him inside. As Ry shook hands with his buddy, Jane hurried down the curved staircase.

  “You are absolutely certifiable, Ryder Griffin,” Jane said, frowning. “Derek and I watched the video of that horrid crash in New Hampshire. One of the other bikes almost decapitated you, for heaven’s sake.” She hugged him carefull
y, as if he might break if she squeezed too hard. “That was a ridiculously close call, and don’t even try to deny it.”

  “Close only counts in horseshoes,” Ry said. “I came out of it just fine, didn’t I?”

  She gave him a little jab in the side. “Well, you survived anyway, tough guy. Poor Claire must have been frantic with worry. It was awful that she had to see you smash up like that.”

  Ry barely managed to hold back a guilty wince.

  He’d told Derek on the phone that Claire had gone with him to the race. But he hadn’t come over today to rehash the crash or his injuries. He just wanted to see his friends on their return from their honeymoon. Plus he wanted to show them the architect’s latest sketches and get their opinion.

  “I’ve brought the sketches.” He held up the folder he’d brought with him.

  Jane crossed her arms and gave him the look. “So, that’s how we’re going to play it, are we?”

  “Ah, the sketches,” Derek said pointedly, taking them from Ry. “We’ve been looking forward to seeing them.”

  Jane muttered something under her breath, but thankfully she capitulated. “Fine, but how about coffee first?”

  “I won’t say no to that,” Ry said.

  Jane led them back to their spectacular kitchen with its acres of granite and super high-end appliances. She quickly poured three cups from a brewing apparatus that looked more like a computer than a coffee pot. They sat down at the circular glass table in an alcove that afforded a view of the bay that was every bit as breathtaking as Ry’s. Derek laid out the sketches, and each of them grabbed hold of a different elevation.

  “I think these modern lines are a nice contrast to the more traditional houses like ours,” Derek said. “How many square feet are we talking about here?”

  “Ten thousand or so.” Ry glanced at the sketch Derek held, feeling little enthusiasm for it.

  Jane seemed to be studying him, not the drawings. “Clearly, these are not ringing your bells, Ry.”

  Derek gave a little snort. “Honey, Ry gets excited about fast bikes and big engines, not house plans.”

  Ry forced a smile. “You guys think the PIHA would be okay with something like this?”

  The board of the homeowners’ association had the power to reject the proposed design of any home or renovation on Promise Island.

  “I would think so,” Derek said. “I can talk to Carling if there’s an issue.”

  “That woman is probably ready to shoot me about now.”

  Derek chuckled. “Yeah, I heard you pissed off a few folks the day the townies blocked the bridge.”

  “I just did what I thought was right. Most of the locals here have bent over backward to accept us CFAs. Putting up a gate now would be a slap in the face to them.”

  “I agree,” Jane said. “We’ve got enough walls around here already.”

  “Sweetheart,” Derek said, “you know the paps and the tourists are getting to be a bigger pain in the ass every day.”

  Jane scoffed. “Sure, but the paparazzi will get on the island no matter what we do, even if they have to rock-climb up the bluffs. The extra bit of security we’d get from a gate wouldn’t compensate for alienating all the great people in Brides Bay. Not as far as I’m concerned.”

  Derek gave his wife a wry, loving smile. “I get the feeling I’m fighting a losing battle on this one.”

  “Jane, could you talk to some of the other homeowners?” Ry asked. “If you can convince this guy, you can convince anybody.”

  “Absolutely. I intend to do just that, and I hope you two will back me up.” She shot Derek a stern look.

  “Count on it,” Ry said.

  Derek held up his hands in surrender.

  “Now, to get back to these sketches,” Jane said, “am I right in guessing that you’re no longer sure you even want to go ahead with this?”

  Ry just shrugged. His head was telling him he needed to go ahead with the project, but his gut was sending a different message.

  “I’m sure the architect can come up with plenty of other options,” Derek said.

  Jane rolled her eyes. “What I meant, my dense darling husband, was that I don’t think Ry wants to build any new house.”

  “Really? Is that right?” Derek gave Ry a look of incredulity. “Like I told you, with the right house on that prime piece of land, it’ll be worth a fortune in no time.”

  “Derek, the right house doesn’t have to be some monster house,” Jane said.

  Ry smiled. “Should I step outside while you two sort this out for me?”

  “You know you need to do something major if you’re going to unlock the value on that property,” Derek said, ignoring Ry’s jest. “That’s what sold you on buying here on the island, remember? I told you it had the potential to make you a ton of money.”

  “Yeah, I know. Your job is to give me that kind of advice,” Ry said. “And I always appreciate it.”

  “I’m not just telling you that as a client, but as a good friend.”

  “I know that, man, but I figure Jane’s right.”

  “Right about what?”

  “He’s having second thoughts about the house because of Claire,” Jane interjected.

  Ry let out a sigh. “Does every woman in my life know what’s going on in my head these days?”

  Jane patted his hand. “Don’t feel bad, sweetie. Generally speaking, women are just a lot smarter than men.”

  “Okay, guys, hold up,” Derek said. “If Claire is putting pressure on you to keep that dump, she really needs to get a grip on reality.”

  When Jane started to protest, Ry held up his hand. “She isn’t pressuring me. And the place isn’t a dump. It’s actually growing on me.”

  “Like the mildew that’s growing in that ancient kitchen?” Derek said drily.

  Jane balled up a napkin and threw it at him. “You can be such a jerk,” she said when her husband gave her an unrepentant grin.

  “You obviously think it would be dumb, but would you be pissed off if I left the house more or less as it is?” Ry asked Derek. “I know it’s not great for your property value to have a place like mine next door. But the more I think about building some monster house…” He nodded at the sketches. “Hell, it just wouldn’t be me. I’m a just a regular guy from small town Minnesota. I don’t need anything too big and fancy. I don’t want it either.”

  Derek looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “Well, my advice is that you should think long and hard—”

  “Of course, we wouldn’t be pissed off,” Jane said, cutting off her husband’s reply. “Absolutely not. It’s your home, and you should do whatever you want with it. And most of all, you should do what your heart tells you, not your pocketbook. That old house is full of character, and I’m sure you could do wonders with it through appropriate and creative renovations.”

  “Yeah, but…” Derek sputtered.

  “No buts, sweetheart,” Jane said. She stood up and moved behind her husband, resting her hands on his shoulders. “I can see I have a little more work to do to get my husband finally convinced that money isn’t everything.” She kissed the top of Derek’s head and then glanced at Ry, her eyes narrowing. “I ran into Claire at the supermarket yesterday. She didn’t say much, but I could tell she was still down about what happened that weekend at the races. Now, I don’t want to butt in—”

  “Sure you do,” Derek said with a lopsided grin.

  “As I was saying, I don’t want to butt in, but I could tell that you and Claire were going to be good for each other from the first moment you met. I know chemistry when I see it, and you two have it in spades, diamonds, clubs, and hearts. If keeping that old house can help smooth things over between you, then that’s exactly what you should do. I’m serious, dude. Claire is a keeper—surely you must know that by now.”

  “Keeper? Honey, she’s a person, not a lobster,” Derek said playfully, referring to the term lobstermen use for a legal-sized crustacean.

  “
Oh, shush, funny man.” His wife smacked him on the shoulder. “And as for you, Ryder Griffin,” she said, pointing at him, “you’d better not mess this up or you’ll be sorry.”

  “Uh, thanks.” Ry was still taken aback by her ballsy intervention.

  He was used to Derek and Jane watching out for him, but they’d never seriously discussed his romantic life before. It was weird to see them arguing over how he should handle the situation with Claire. He just sat there listening, too embarrassed to say anything more.

  It was kind of cool to have people who cared enough about you to argue over who had the best advice—not just for your house but, strangely enough, for your love life too.

  * * *

  Once a week, Claire made a special lunch for her mother. The main was usually something like vegetarian pasta, using the most exotic ingredients she could find in town. Mom reciprocated by putting on a big Sunday feast, much like she’d cooked all those years ago when their family had still been together. Some of the meals had been pretty lean back then, but her mother had always made everything with love. Claire was happy and proud that Brides Bay Concierges was now doing well enough that she could keep her mother’s freezer stocked with quality food.

  Today’s lunch menu featured lobster that had been hauled by her pal Colton Pierce and delivered to her door fresh this morning. She’d opened a bottle of her mom’s favorite white wine, and they’d already had a glass as they puttered around in the tight kitchen area. While Claire hardly ever drank at lunch, she’d decided she deserved a treat. This week had been a total bear.

  “Have you seen Ry lately?” her mother asked in her usual mom-nosy fashion. “I heard from Maisie that he showed up at the Dory the other night with a young blonde in tow. Obviously another CFA.”

  “That was his sister, Mom. His stepsister, actually.”

  Her mother broke into a relieved smile. “Oh well, then. It’s nice that she would visit him, isn’t it?”

  “I’m sure he was thrilled.” Not with Claire though. That much had been clear.

  “When do you think you might see him again?” Mom leaned back against the counter after she’d finished peeling a couple of zucchini for the salad. “At the very least you’ll be taking care of his place when he’s gone, right?”