Despite the growing hardness I can feel through Ryder’s jeans, despite the warmth pooling between my legs, he pulls away and says he has to get back to Altitude. He told Jackson he’d help close tonight. We walk to his car by the curb, holding hands. He tosses the money onto the passenger’s seat and gets behind the wheel. “I know you were just looking out for your brother this time,” he says, “but promise me this is it. No more lies.”
My stomach contracts. Promise me. This is my chance to tell Ryder about Sebastian. But the words die in my throat before I can even get them out. I know it’s wrong, but it would be terrible to tell Ryder this secret, to try to explain how I feel about him even while I’m married to someone else, though Sebastian and I are so over we’re past over. We’re extinct, and with Ryder, I’m reincarnated, a phoenix reborn from the ashes, ready to fly forward without a need to look behind. This is my new life.
I lean through the open window, kiss Ryder gently on the lips. “I promise,” I say. “No more lies.”
But that doesn’t mean I have to tell him the truth.
CASSIE
CH. 23
Shelby, Avery, Ruby, Savannah, and I sprawl like housecats around Ryder’s office at Altitude, sipping expensive whiskey and trying not to laugh too noticeably at how horrible Savannah’s date was last night, the success of the coral bandage dress notwithstanding.
“He ate nothing,” she says about Paul, a successful but apparently socially nervous defense attorney. “Not the fried risotto balls, which were his idea to order, by the way. Not the salad. Not a bite of salmon or trout or whatever the fuck fish it was.” She leans forward in Ryder’s desk chair, extends her empty glass to me. “Hit me, Cass.”
I pour her a refill of Highland Park single malt scotch, a five-hundred-dollar bottle in Jackson and Ryder’s secret stash of expensive alcohol, though not such a secret from Shelby apparently, who thought the only way to salve Savannah’s bad date blues was with the highest of high-class liquor.
“You’re not the only good stuff Ryder has back here,” Shelby said to me, swatting me on the butt as we snuck down the hallway to the office.
Altitude is as packed on Sunday nights as it is Fridays and Saturdays, but the place feels like home to me now every day of the week. Tonight I’m actually serving again—Cash had called this morning, anticipating a busy night since the Braves are having a hot season and played early this evening—but I told Ryder I was taking my break when Savannah got here. “We’re packed,” he said. “You think just because you’re sleeping with the boss you can do whatever you want?” He grinned, letting his hand fall from my hip to my ass. We stood in a dark corner of the bar toward the back, not entirely invisible to anyone who might be paying attention, but mostly lost in the crowd.
“Well, sure. Why else sleep with the boss?” I said, running my hands underneath his soft t-shirt, feeling the tightness of his abs. “Other than the fact that he has a perfectly shaped cock that makes me come til I can’t breathe.” I slid my hand to the front of his pants, over his erection. “I guess there’s that.”
“Save up your oxygen now, then,” he whispered, his head buried in my hair. “Because you’re coming home with me tonight.”
I was hoping he’d say that.
Still, there’s a fair amount of night left til last call, so in the office now, I finish my shot so I can get back on the floor. Even though I’m no longer working to pay back Jamie’s debt, Ryder wants me to stay on as his bookkeeper during the week, and everything I make tonight is going, indisputably, straight to my bank account. And though I haven’t counted the bills yet, judging from the thickness in my pocket, so far it’s been a good shift. Braves fans can be very generous after a Sunday night win.
“But why would he order all those courses if he wasn’t going to eat them?” Shelby asks Savannah.
Savannah shrugs. “Great fucking question. He actually asked me if I wanted dessert when we were finished.” She holds up a finger. “Correction. When I was finished. Because to finish something you have to start, so he wouldn’t qualify.”
“Maybe he was shy,” Avery says. She sits cross-legged on the edge of the desk, where I sat very open-legged just a few weeks ago with Ryder. I look away, trying not to blush.
“No, he was sick,” Savannah says. “That’s what he told me when we were waiting for the valet. He didn’t feel well so he didn’t have an appetite.”
“So why wouldn’t he just cancel the date?” Ruby says.
“One of life’s great mysteries,” Savannah shrugs. She shakes her head, her curly blond hair bouncing. “And the unfortunate part is he’s actually really cute. He’s very smart. He’s just obviously very weird.”
“Maybe he just wanted to watch you eat,” I tease. “Kinky.”
“Forget him,” Shelby says. “There’s definitely someone else out there for you with a fantastic appetite for fried risotto balls.”
“The thing is,” Savannah says, propping her feet on the desk, “I don’t even really like risotto.”
I put my empty glass down on the desk. “Ladies, I have to get back to work.”
Shelby clucks her tongue. “Are you sure? We haven’t even started going through their drawers yet or anything.”