He stays quiet for a moment, confirming what I already knew. The dick told her. I rise—ready to bounce the hell out of here—but he catches my elbow and pulls me down onto his lap.
Casey jerks her head in our direction, nervousness all over her face.
“We’re just playing, Casey.” Ryder winds his arms around my waist. “Right, Amber?”
“Yep.” I give her a reassuring smile. “We’re about to deflate your brother’s football. He’ll never be able to use it again.”
Tough guy clamps his knees together, and Casey shrugs, the sponge once again snagging her attention as I try to jack my arms out of the bear hug Ryder has them in.
“Let me up,” I whisper heatedly. With my back pressed to his bare chest, I can’t see his face, but I hear him chuckle. “You’re an asshole. Seriously. I know you know this too.”
He touches his lips to my ear, his voice a low sexual taunt. “Come on, momma. Do you honestly think I said something to Hailey? You know me better than that.”
“Do I?” I attempt to wiggle from his hold. I’d have better luck trying to pry myself away from a hungry anaconda. “I’m not so sure anymore. You’re the only one . . . playing with her—”
“Was playing with her,” he corrects, all but tossing me back onto the couch.
My eyes go wide, Madeline’s claim officially confirmed as my mouth falls open.
“If you try to get up again, you’ll leave me no choice but to hold you down in a compromising position.” He leans in, his nose inches from mine. “But I won’t bring you any form of pleasure when I do. No. Instead, I’ll tickle the fuck out of you,” he whispers, grinning. “I have a killer memory. You’re going to hear me out. Understood?”
I take a second to regain my bearings. Once fully composed, I lift my hand and smash my palm against his forehead, moving him to a safe “unheated” distance.
It’s his eyes that are wide now.
“You have two minutes to talk your way out of this. You’ve already killed what little high I had left, and you seriously don’t want to see me pissed off.”
He lifts an incredulous brow. “I haven’t witnessed this yet? Impossible.”
“Not even close.”
“Mm. Interesting and quite . . . tempting.” A lazy grin hits his face as he cups his chin, wicked thoughts swirling behind those baby blues.
I glance at the digital clock on the DVD player. “You now have a minute and forty-five seconds, Ashcroft. I’d use the time wisely if I were you.” I cock my head to the side. “I’m happy my situation with Hailey’s brought you your daily dose of entertainment. It’s good to know my past can amuse someone.”
He stares at me and rests his elbow on the arm of the couch, his expression melting into regret. “I didn’t tell Hailey anything, Amber. She overheard me and Brock talking about it.”
“What?” My heart thumps with anger. I’m about to swing solo, getting rid of Brock faster than an unwelcome Jehovah’s Witness. “You guys talked about me in front of her?”
“You’re not listening. She overheard us.”
With my patience wearing thin—but aware there’s a child in the room—I dig my nails into my palms, trying to keep my cool. “You have one minute to elaborate before I seriously lose it. If you don’t, I will crush your football.”
Ryder blinks, the look on his face showing that he knows I’m not kidding. “He stopped by a few weeks ago and told me your foster parents are coming to visit you again in a few months. Since shit went south the last time they came in, he wants to do something special for you and them when they’re here. Something special without involving his parents. One thing led to another, and yeah, we got into the shit that’s happened with you.” He drags a hand through his hair. “I thought Hailey was asleep, but she wasn’t. We both warned her not to say anything, but apparently she did.”
I shake my head, wishing Brock would’ve at least told me the skank found out. Not that that could’ve prepared me—I’m not sure anything could aid in that department—but it wouldn’t have felt like such a crippling invasion.
Ryder slips a finger under my chin, bringing my eyes to his. “You okay?”
I jerk my head away. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“You’re not bulletproof, peach. Stop trying to act like you are.”
“I’m not trying to act like anything,” I scoff, uncomfortable with the direction he’s taking the conversation. I want to unzip my skin and peel it from my body.
He studies me for a moment, his gaze sweeping over my face. “Pain—in the form of grieving—is healthy, Amber.”
“Oh my God, are you seriously going there? You’re cute and all, but even a dude like you can lose his swoon factor. Fast.”
“I possess swoon factor?” A small grin graces his lips as he leans closer. “Is that a girl term?”
I swallow, my head fuzzy from his close proximity, the dizzying smell of his musky cologne and the gray specks in his eyes unfurling my sanity as I back away. “Yeah. It’s a girl thing, and again, if you go there, it can lose its potency.”
He flicks his attention to my lips, a soft chuckle tumbling from his mouth. “Mm. Well, you, Amber Moretti, make me wanna risk losing my swoon factor.” He sobers, his eyes finding mine. “And if you remember anything I ever tell you—no matter what—make sure it’s what I’m about to say. A kick-ass old man let me in on it before he died.” He pauses and taps my nose, his breath soft against my cheeks as he inches closer. “Our past is what shapes us, the scars it leaves behind mold us, and what we do with the shit that’s left over is what defines us. Don’t let your parents’ conflicts define who you are, peach. You’re better than that. You deserve more than you’re willing to let yourself experience. More than what you think you’re . . . worth.”