Chapter 4

Ryder

The night air is cool as I step onto the deck of the Match Me Bunny yacht that’s docked at Love Beach Yacht Club at Passion Cove, courtesy of an invite from Jimmy. My dress shoes knock against the polished wood, and there’s an allure of what's happening on this floating paradise that has me on edge.

I'm not one for the socialite circus, but tonight, I'm playing the part. The yacht is a maze of luxury, and I navigate through clusters of people laughing a little too loudly and sipping champagne from fancy flutes. My eyes scan the room, not really knowing what I’m searching for, or so I tell myself.

"Ryder Raines, Captain of the Charleston Renegades, in the flesh." A man claps me on the shoulder, and I turn to face him with a half-cocked smile.

"Only on days ending with 'y'," I quip, taking his offered handshake. He's someone from the upper crust, another suit in a sea of them, but his grip tells me he's not afraid to get his hands dirty.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asks, a knowing twinkle in his eye.

"About as much as a wolf at a rabbit party," I reply, reveling in the private joke about the yacht's name. My answer earns a chuckle before he's swept away by a passing waiter with a tray of hors d'oeuvres.

I drift through the lounge. Women in dresses that cling to curves they're not shy about flaunting throw coy glances my way. I meet their eyes and offer them a smirk.

"Ryder," says a voice laced with honey and mischief. I turn to find a woman, her dress leaving little to imagination and everything to desire.

"Having fun yet?" she purrs, slinking up close enough that I catch the scent of her floral perfume.

"Define 'fun,'" I counter, my gaze looks past her to the room full of people. I'm here, but not really. There's a guitar waiting at home that understands me better than any soul on this boat.

"Fun," she drawls, "is whatever you want it to be."

"Then I guess I'm having a blast," I say, the words tasting like the single malt I had earlier—smooth with an edge of bitterness.

I excuse myself and continue making the rounds of handshakes, nods, and smiles.

The yacht sways gently, and I lean back against the polished railing, my eyes drifting over the crowd. Bodies move in a slow cadence as hands roam with a boldness that's intriguing.

A couple to my left is lost in their own world, her laughter ringing out as his fingers roam just under the hem of her dress in a way that's not quite public consumption yet still on display. It's fascinating, this unabashed flaunting of desire. My pulse quickens, not from arousal, but from the raw honesty of it all.

"Looks like they're having fun," a sultry voice purrs beside me.

I turn, and there she stands—a tall beauty with legs for days and hair that cascades down her back like a raven waterfall. Her eyes are a stormy gray, and they size me up with an intensity that says she's played this game before and never lost.

"Seems so," I reply. "You looking to join them?"

She steps in closer. "Maybe," a corner of her mouth lifts, "but I think I'd rather play with you."

She's sexy, no doubt about it, and there's a hunger in her gaze that could match the wolf inside me. Even as my body responds to the challenge, my mind is elsewhere, seeking a real connection and not just a one-night stand.

"Careful," I warn, half-mocking, half-serious. "I might be more than you can handle."

"Is that right?" she laughs, and her hand brushes against mine. "I like a man who's confident."

"Hmph," I scoff lightly. "Some would say cocky."

"Then let's find out which one you are." Her invitation is clear. Maybe there could be something here. Who am I to deny trying? That’s what I’m here for, after all.

"Ever been to a playroom?" I ask, the corner of my mouth quirking up. The sultry model-like goddess standing before me tilts her head, looking at me.

"Can't say that I have," she purrs, running her fingers down the lapel of my jacket. "Sounds fun, though. Lead the way."

I take her hand and weave us through the lounge of chatter, soft moans of pleasure, and the rhythmic thumping of bass from the speakers above.

"Right this way." Within a minute, I’m guiding her out of the lounge, and we step onto the deck to the ocean breeze. It's refreshing.

We're supposed to go down to the lower level, to find one of those secretive, velvet-draped rooms where fantasies can be played out. However, through the partygoers and along the swaying dock, I spot something—or rather, someone—that seizes my attention and jolts me back to reality.

Waitress Jayden. Her curly fiery red hair is down and fluffed out, her green eyes wide with wonder as she takes in the scene before her. She's closing the distance to the yacht with every graceful, unsure step. She’s dressed in something comfortable, casual, not at all fitting for this party.

"Handsome?" The woman next to me tugs at my arm, but I barely register her voice.

"Sorry, just... give me a second," I murmur, more to myself than to her. Jayden shouldn't be here—hell, she doesn't even know what 'here' truly means. As much as the idea of exploring what the woman beside me and I may have, the protective surge that clenches my gut is unexpected.

"Is everything okay?" she asks, her interest still apparent, but I'm anchored to the spot, my gaze trained on Jayden.

"Fine," I lie, because it's anything but fine. Jayden's sense of innocence has no place on this boat, and I need to be the one to tell her that, even if it means walking away from a sure thing.

"Look, I gotta..." My words trail off as I step away, leaving the sentence unfinished. I'm already moving, propelled by a force I don't want to examine too closely.

"Hey, where are you—" The model's protest sounds in the distance as I push through the mingling bodies, heading for the dock.

Each step towards Jayden ratchets up the tension in my shoulders, the gnawing concern of what brought her here. Why now? Why this party? The protective streak she ignites in me is as infuriating as it is undeniable.

"Jayden!" My voice is sharper than I intend. Her green eyes snap to mine, wide with surprise—or is it excitement? I can't tell, and that bothers me more than it should.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing here?" I demand. This isn't where she belongs, surrounded by hungry pleasure-seeking men who’d swallow her whole without a second thought.

"Ryder?" There's a small tremor in her voice. No matter how much I try to fight it, Jayden Sommers matters, and the thought of her walking blindly into this makes my blood run cold.

"Come on, we're leaving." It's not a suggestion. My hand wraps around her wrist, maybe a little too tightly, but I need to get her out of here.

"Wait, I came here for a party." She tugs her arm back, but I pull it and her forward, further down the dock.

She tugs again, and this time I stop and square up to her.

"You came here for what? A party?" The skepticism in my voice is loud and clear.

"Yeah," she chirps. That one word is all innocence and naiveté but filled with an adventurous sparkle. "I heard it was the event of the season and would be fun."

"Fun?" I echo, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. Fun is a concept I've reduced to cold ice rinks and competition, not whatever that party had to offer.

Jayden, bless her heart, stands there in her sundress and cardigan, looking like she wandered off a beach postcard instead of into the Match Me Bunny's den.

She's got no idea. No clue about the hungry looks thrown her way. She's a lamb among wolves.

"Jayden, you're not..." I struggle to find words that won’t shatter her eagerness, "...dressed for this kind of party." My gaze sweeps over her again, taking in the freckles dusting her nose, and the way she's biting her lip.

"Is there a dress code?" She glances down at herself, then back up at me, her brows knitting together in confusion with a frown.

"Sort of," I admit, and it punches a hole straight through me, seeing her enthusiasm dim. There's an ache, deep in my chest. I shouldn't care, but damn if I don't want to wrap her in a shield and keep her safe from this, from everything.

"Ryder?" She reaches out, her hand brushing mine, a jolt of electricity that grounds me in ways I can't explain bolts through me.

"Jayden, this isn't your scene." My tone has no room for argument. "You need to leave."

She blinks up at me. "I can't just go. I didn't bring my car. You know, in case I wanted to drink." She crosses her arms, and her posture tells me she's not budging easily.

"Damn it," I growl, frustration knotting in my chest. "That's irresponsible. Coming to a party alone, especially one like this."

"You don’t know me. Maybe I like trouble," she mutters, but her face falls, and I can tell she's retreated into herself, feeling out of place and stranded. "Fine. I'll call an Uber."

"Come on," I say, softer this time, and hook my arm gently around her shoulders, steering her away from the yacht. "I'll drive you home."

We head towards my Jeep, the dock quiet except for the distant sounds from the party behind us. I open the passenger door for her, and she hops in.

As we pull onto the road, I keep my eyes fixed on the dark road ahead.

"Look, Jayden..." I begin, breaking the quiet as streetlights flicker past. "That kind of party, it's... It's not for everyone. Definitely not for someone like you."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her head turn, and I sense her studying me. "What do you mean 'someone like me'?"

"Someone genuine," I admit, my knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. "You're sunshine in a world that thrives in the shadows. You shouldn't be anywhere near that place or people like me."

"You might think you’re the king of the shadows, but even you can't deny that every night eventually meets the dawn," she says, her voice soft, almost a whisper.