Free The Replacement by Rachael Wade Page B

Natalie drone on about clothes and hair and make-up—okay, not really—but I’m far more interested in finding Ryder. I have no intention of being a third wheel tonight.
    “So, where’s your date?” Nate asks. His delivery seems natural enough, but the eagerness in his tone grabs my attention. I quit looking for Ryder and bring my gaze to his. There’s something different about him tonight, something I can’t pinpoint. But I think it’s lurking in his eyes. There’s a secretive glint in them, like he’s uncovered something about me and is keeping the discovery all to himself. I don’t miss the way he can’t seem to hold eye contact with me for longer than a few seconds.
    “He should be here soon,” I reply, the corner of my lips twitching with a ghost of a smile. He really has caught on. My cover is blown.
    “Where’d you guys meet?” Natalie pipes up, her eyes alive with curiosity.
    “Hate to burst your bubble, but we just met. He’s not my boyfriend. He actually works at my apartment building. He does maintenance.”
    “Ohhh,” Natalie gives me a sly look. “A Mr.Fix-It type, huh? I love guys who know how to get their hands dirty.”
    I glance only briefly at Natalie, quickly pinning my gaze back on Nate’s. “So do I,” I say, not missing a beat.
    Nate chokes on his beer, and Natalie looks completely baffled. I’m not sure who to feel sorrier for: Nate, for trying so hard to appear comfortable, or Natalie, who has to put up with the poor guy.
    I’m about to go easy on Nate and change the subject, but warm fingers on my shoulder distract me. “Hey you,” a friendly, smooth voice comes from behind me, and Natalie’s eyes widen, her mouth gaping slightly.
    I glance back and find Ryder standing there, his usually disheveled hair covered by a loose, gray cable-knit beret. A long-sleeve flannel shirt is fitted to his firm build, and a dark blazer gives him just a hint of sophistication. I grin in appreciation, knowing underneath that blazer lies a bold, beautiful canvas of poetic ink…among other delectable things.
    His tattoos might be covered up tonight, but his masculine good looks are on full display. He is pure ruggedness but polished, with traditional, boyish charm. His jaw line is tinged by just the right amount of hair—not yet a beard, but darker than a five o’clock shadow. His strong cheekbones and warm, intense eyes give him an earnest yet approachable look, and the scent I’ve come to recognize as uniquely Ryder’s—pine and cinnamon spice—is ever present. He’s so close, I discreetly breathe him in.
    “Hey,” I say, liking the way his hand moves to the small of my back. It’s such an easy, natural movement, I almost don’t sense it, except for the fact that my body is apparently hyperaware of his hands. “You made it.”
    “Yeah, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”
    “Not at all. Ryder, these are my friends, Natalie and Nate. Guys, this is Ryder.” Saying I have friends is like saying I’m a nun. It’s a completely unholy union. But I don’t know how else to refer to these people. I step aside to allow them space for introductions. They turn chatty in a matter of minutes, and I’m happy to see the exchange. It helps that Nate is just as much into the outdoors as Ryder. They talk boating, camping, and hiking, and then the subject of kayaking comes up.
    “Kayaking’s like a religion around here,” Nate says as we all walk side by side down the town’s main drag. “We should all go some time.”
    “You’ve never been kayaking?” Ryder asks with interest.
    “Nah, I’m still new to town. I’m from the desert. Well, and the concrete jungle. Phoenix.” He shrugs. “I’m dying to get out and try it, though.”
    “Maybe we can camp one weekend,” Natalie says, locking arms with Nate. She eyes me and Ryder, her gaze falling on his left hand. It’s still casually resting against my lower back as we stroll down the sidewalk. Little sparks tickle the