Ryder (7 Brides for 7 Soldiers Book 1) Read online

  "What I read on the internet. I'd love to hear it from you."

  She saw her father heading out of the kitchen with her breakfast. "Please don't say anything about it here."

  "Ryder," her father said with a welcoming smile. "I was wondering when you'd make your way in here. I heard you were in town. It's good to see you again."

  "Thanks. You, too, Mr. Tucker."

  "Oh, please, it's Sam."

  Her dad set her omelet and side of chocolate chip pancakes down in front of her, making her feel a little embarrassed by how much she had ordered.

  "What can I get you?" her dad asked Ryder.

  "What Bailey is having looks good," he replied.

  "The healthy eggs or the sugary pancakes that were always her favorite?"

  "Both."

  "Coming right up."

  "So, you haven't been in here since you got back?" Bailey asked, as her father returned to the kitchen. "Quite a coincidence that you came in today."

  "Not a coincidence at all; I was looking for you."

  Her heart made another unstoppable leap. She knew Ryder's interest in her was only because of her connection to her grandfather, so she needed to stop letting old schoolgirl fantasies run through her head.

  "Why don't you just get Adam or Zane to help you? They live here. They'll benefit from the runway. They can add a personal perspective if they speak to my grandfather."

  "Do you really want me to talk to Zane again? I might slip up and mention something about rescuing his dog from the river."

  She saw the sly gleam in his eyes. "You cannot do that. Zane doesn't need to know anything about last night."

  "I might be more able to forget about it if you were willing to help me."

  "You're blackmailing me?"

  "Let's just say I'm trying to get us what we both want."

  She realized that her desire to keep Gambler's outing from her brother had given Ryder some leverage. "Typical Westbrook maneuver," she said dryly.

  "Ouch," he said with a smile. "But I can't deny that I didn't learn a little something from my grandfather."

  "Fine. What's it going to take to keep you quiet? A conversation with my grandfather?"

  "Not yet. Like I said, I want to make a plan. I'm going to get one shot at Max Tucker, and I want to make it count."

  "Then what?"

  "Dinner—tonight. You're buying."

  "And you're pushing it, Ryder."

  "What time do you want me to pick you up?"

  She suddenly realized that she didn't want to go out to dinner with Ryder anywhere in the small town of Eagle's Ridge, where gossip was a professional sport. She thought for a moment. "Where do you live? Are you staying at your parents' house?"

  "No. I have a house on Riverview."

  "And you live alone? No wife or girlfriend?"

  "I'm on my own," he said. "Why?"

  "I'll bring you dinner, or I'll cook," she said impulsively, even though cooking was almost as high on her list of things she didn't want to do as having dinner with Ryder. She hadn't chopped an onion or turned on a burner since the debacle at Franco's restaurant a week ago.

  "That works for me," Ryder said.

  "I'll meet you there. What's the address?"

  "Eleven twenty-seven."

  "Great. I'll be there at seven." She turned her attention back to her breakfast, digging into her eggs with a sigh of delight.

  "Good, huh?" Ryder asked with amusement.

  "My dad has always been the master of breakfast. You'll see," she added, as Brenda set two plates in front of Ryder.

  "I'm good at lunch and dinner, too," her dad said, popping his head back through the pass-through window with a smile. "Maybe not as good as you are, Princess, but not bad."

  "You taught me everything I know."

  Her dad smiled. "Only the basics. You did the rest."

  As her father disappeared into the kitchen, she watched Ryder take his first bite and then groan with satisfaction.

  "Really good," he said.

  "Told you." She moved on to her pancakes.

  "If you're half as good a cook as your father, I can't wait for dinner."

  His words reminded her of the bargain she'd just made—one she was already regretting. Before she had time to answer, she heard two familiar voices behind her.

  Turning her head, she saw her twin brothers Adam and Zane walk through the door. They were greeted by locals at various tables, and as always, their presence made an impact.

  Fraternal twins, Adam and Zane, had very similar features with light-blue, almost turquoise eyes, a family eye color passed down from her mother's side of the family.

  Her brothers were both tall, powerful, ruggedly attractive men. Sometimes, she couldn't quite believe that Zane, who had been sickly for most of his childhood, had actually passed Adam by an inch, ringing in somewhere around six four. Not that Adam would admit that his twin had surpassed him in any way. She'd never met two more competitive men. But despite their sibling rivalry, they were close; they even shared a business now, and things seemed to be going well.

  As Ryder stood up to greet Adam and Zane, she was a little surprised by the warm friendliness extended by her brothers. Was she the only one hanging on to the Westbrook-Tucker feud besides her grandfather?

  "Let's all get a table," Zane suggested. "We can catch up."

  "I'm actually done," she put in. "You guys go ahead." She decided to skip the rest of her pancakes in favor of a quick exit.

  As she slid off her seat, Adam said, "We need to talk, Bailey. What happened in New York? I thought you were in the middle of a big restaurant opening, that your career was so important that it took every minute of your time, including the holidays."

  She heard the censure in his tone and knew that no one had been happy about her missing Thanksgiving and Christmas the previous year. She was just relieved that he didn't seem to know what had happened in New York. She would have to tell both of them, but she had no intention of sharing the sordid details in the middle of the diner.

  "I was busy," she said. "But that's done, and I needed a break, so here I am. And let's not forget how many holidays the two of you missed while you were in the Coast Guard and the Army. Anyway, we'll talk later. I have some things to do."

  "What things?" Zane asked curiously.

  "Yeah, why are you being so mysterious?" Adam pressed. "We thought you might want to come by and help us get the kayaks ready for the upcoming season."

  "I'll come by later. We'll talk then."

  She could see the questions lingering in her brothers' eyes but she wasn't ready to answer any of them. Maybe coming home hadn't been the greatest idea after all. She knew that her brothers would be supportive, but she wasn't ready to bare her soul and share her stupidity just yet. As the youngest in the family, and the only girl, her brothers had always been protective of her, and they'd always had opinions about her life. She wasn't ready to hear any of those opinions now.

  She glanced back at Brenda. "Tell Dad I'll catch up with him this afternoon."

  "Will do," Brenda said with a smile. "Have fun, Bailey."

  "Thanks."

  "Hey, Bailey," Zane said, making her pause once more. "Thanks again for watching Gambler last night. Did he give you any trouble?"

  "Not a bit," she said, seeing the smile play across Ryder's lips.

  He'd keep her secret. He wanted something from her, and she wanted something from him. They'd have dinner. She'd listened to his plan to end the family feud, and then they'd say goodbye and that would be that.

  Four

  After leaving the diner, Bailey walked across Sentinel Bridge, heading into town. She hadn't been home in over a year, because she'd been too busy working as a chef and helping Franco open his new restaurant. She'd told herself that it was worth it. She was doing what she loved, but now, after everything that had happened, she couldn't help wondering if the choices she'd made had been even a little bit smart. Frowning, she decided to push New Yor
k out of her mind for a while and get reacquainted with her hometown.

  She paused by the two statues at the end of the bridge, their likenesses representing founders John Westbrook and Will Coleman. Two other statues on the opposite end of the bridge represented Max Tucker and David Bennett. The four men had been looking for a place to start over, to put down roots after the war, and a hiking trip in the Blue Mountains had presented an incredible vista of opportunity.

  While she'd told Ryder what her grandfather had always told her, she didn’t really know all the ins and outs of the feud. It had happened decades before she was born, and the retelling always seemed to take on a new twist or turn. It was quite possible her grandfather didn't remember everything exactly the way it had happened. It was also quite possible that Ryder's grandfather John Westbrook didn't, either. But that wasn't going to be enough to change either of their stubborn minds.

  Her phone buzzed and she sighed as she saw another flood of texts from concerned friends and also the press. She was on the other side of the country, but it still wasn't far enough. She could throw her phone into the river. On the other hand, she wasn't quite ready to cut all ties to New York, so she put the phone back into her pocket and kept on walking.

  She headed through the park and then into downtown, noting several new clothing boutiques, an art gallery, a bookstore, and a pizza place that must have opened in the last year. But along with the new was also the old: Hildie's House—a place for antiques—or junk as the locals called it; the grand Broadleaf hotel; the majestic courthouse; and, of course, the donut shop, which had been very popular both before and after school.

  There were plenty of people around on a Thursday afternoon, and she tried to stay in the shadows, veering away from familiar faces when she saw them coming her way. While Eagle's Ridge was on the other side of the country from New York, the internet had a way of making the world very small.

  Her phone rang again, a call this time, not a text. She pulled it out of her pocket to check the number.

  Her heart went into her throat—Franco.

  She couldn't believe he was calling her now. What on earth could he possibly have to say? She wanted to know, and she didn't want to know.

  She let the call go to voicemail and hoped he wouldn't leave a message, because she really didn't want to hear his voice, his explanations or his apologies. Not that she should assume he would apologize; he certainly hadn't so far.

  She needed to put her mind onto something else, and as she saw the market up ahead, she knew just what she needed to think about—dinner. She'd told Ryder she'd bring him dinner, but maybe she would make something at his house, so she wouldn't have to stop anywhere to pick up food.

  Entering the market, she grabbed a cart and felt immediately happier when she walked into the produce section. There were two supermarkets in Eagle's Ridge: a chain grocer that carried the more affordable basics, and this one—a gourmet market filled with organic produce and expensive cuts of meat. She was actually impressed with how the market had upped its game in the last several years.

  The prices had gone up, too, but they didn't put her off. The produce looked incredibly fresh, and already her brain was spinning with ideas of what she could make. Cooking had always been her therapy, her escape when life got too hard—when her mother had left, when her brothers were in the service and in danger, and when she'd left her small, safe hometown to venture into the world.

  But now it felt like forever since she'd really cooked for pleasure. The past few years had all been about technique, skills, impressing people, and most recently executing other chefs' visions, not her own.

  She picked up a dark-green avocado, happy with the slightly softened feel. It was perfect. She grabbed two more and then moved down to the green beans, the asparagus and the peppers. While she loved meat and fish, making vegetables taste good was also a passion of hers.

  "Bailey Tucker?"

  She tensed, not quite able to place the voice, but when she looked up to see one of her former high school teachers—Diana Woods—she blew out a breath of relief. Former teachers she could handle. Friends with lots of questions were a different story.

  Tall and voluptuous with thick, dark-red hair and green eyes, Miss Woods was about forty and as attractive as ever. When Bailey had been in high school, Miss Woods had been very popular with the high school boys. But looks aside, her caring personality had also made her popular with the girls, who'd found a mentor and a friend in a woman only about ten years older than they were.

  "Miss Woods," she said, genuinely happy to see her. "I can't believe you remember me after all this time."

  "Well, I did spend more time with your brothers when I had to oversee detention," Miss Woods said dryly. "But I still remember you and the amazing meal you made for the teacher's lunch your senior year. As soon as I tasted your paella, I understood why I could never get you interested in history. You were destined to be a chef. I had never eaten anything so good. In fact, I've tried to replicate it a few times but I've always been unsuccessful. I wonder if you could give me the recipe sometime."

  "I don't remember that exact recipe—I probably made it up. But I could come up with something."

  "Really? That would be so nice of you. I promised someone I'd make him dinner one night, and I'd like it to be good," she said with a sheepish smile.

  Bailey couldn't help wondering who that someone was, but she couldn't bring herself to ask.

  "Are you visiting your family?" Miss Woods asked.

  "Yes, for a short time. I haven't been home in a while."

  "I'm sure they're thrilled to have you back. Your father is always bragging about you when I stop in at the diner. He likes to say you got your cooking skills from him, by the way."

  "I'm sure I did. He was my first teacher. Mom was an okay cook, but Dad was a wizard in the kitchen, especially with breakfast. No one did chocolate chip pancakes better than him, and he's still going strong. I just had some of his pancakes at the diner."

  "I've had his pancakes, too, not with chocolate chips, but that sounds decadent."

  "Oh, it is, trust me."

  "And you're a chef in New York City, right?"

  She nodded, her tension coming back.

  "I'm so glad you were able to do exactly what you were meant to do," Miss Woods said. "Dreams can come true."

  "Being a chef was really all I ever wanted to be," she murmured, unexpected moisture coming into her eyes. Her emotions were awfully close to the surface these days and being reminded of her long-ago youthful dreams and how she'd pretty much destroyed everything by trusting the wrong person made her feel more than a little choked up. "I have to go. It was nice to see you."

  "You, too."

  She quickly wheeled her cart out of the produce section and headed to the meat and seafood department, wanting to finish her shopping and get out of the market as soon as possible. As she waited for her order to be filled, she couldn't help thinking about what Miss Woods had said—that she'd been destined to be a chef.

  Maybe getting back into a kitchen would be the first step in figuring out how to fix her life.

  * * *

  Ryder took a quick look around his living room, making sure he hadn't missed any errant socks or empty glasses. Over a decade in the military had instilled a sense of neatness into him, but since he'd left the Navy last month and bought the two-bedroom house by the river, he'd gotten a little lax when it came to cleaning up his space the instant he was done with it.

  The room was in good enough shape—a little sparse when it came to decorating—but the oversized cream-colored couch with the soft cushions and the brown leather recliner that faced a stone fireplace and a large television were perfect for his needs. Eventually, he had plans to remodel the kitchen and the bedrooms, maybe build a second story, but that was way down the road.

  The only construction he was interested in now had to do with the airport. If he couldn't expand the runway, he'd never be able to do everything
he wanted to do, and that wasn't an option. He wanted to live in Eagle's Ridge. He wanted to spend the next chapter of his life here. Sometimes he couldn't even quite believe that, but it was true.

  Hopefully, after talking to Bailey, he could come up with a better plan of attack to get her grandfather on his side.

  Thinking about Bailey brought a smile to his face. She'd been so unsettled at the diner earlier, especially when Adam and Zane had come in. She'd probably worried he was going to tell Zane about Gambler's misadventure, but that thought had never entered his mind. He had a small bit of leverage over her, and he was going to use it.

  He didn't really know why she cared what Zane thought. It wasn't like her brothers hadn't gotten into all kinds of trouble back in the day, but he did know that the Tuckers were very competitive. Adam and Zane were always betting on whether one could outdo the other. He'd even got sucked into one of those bets back in high school, which had landed him in detention for several weeks during the spring semester of his senior year. It was the first and only time in his life he'd ever been in detention.

  It had been a blessing in disguise, though. That was when he'd gotten to know Adam and Zane, and a bunch of other kids who came from the other side of the river, when he'd realized that Tuckers were real people, not just his grandfather's mortal enemies.

  But obviously Bailey still saw him as an evil Westbrook. She hadn't even wanted to take his hand when she'd gotten stuck in the mud. Only a desire to get out of the watery marsh had made her accept his help, and he doubted she was even half as stubborn as her grandfather. He probably had his work cut out with both of them.

  He walked over to the window and glanced outside, seeing nothing much beyond his empty driveway and the dark skulking trees that lined his property. It was a little past seven, and the sun had set a half hour ago. There was only a sliver of a moon tonight, and it disappeared in and out of the clouds as rain was forecasted for later in the night.

  Hopefully, Bailey would actually show up. Ending-the-feud plans aside, he was looking forward to seeing her again. In fact, his stomach had been twisting itself into unexpected knots for the past few hours.