“You look like a mole,” he said, moving closer. Lifting the end where her head was, he saw her face was pressed into the bed. “Rough day?” And if that wasn’t about the stupidest thing he’d ever said? Of course, it was a rough, shitty day. Her car broke down, and she was forced to sleep in it and ask him for a job. Then there was the wedding dress, and who knew what else she was dealing with.

“I-I’m okay,” she got out.

“Sure looks like it. You want to talk?” He’d spent his life around women and knew from experience they liked to talk stuff out. Personally, that was his worst nightmare, but it took all sorts.

Libby shook her head, then moved like a caterpillar up the bed to press her face into the pillows.

Ryder bit back a sigh. His eyelids felt heavy, the burn on his hand he’d given himself today stung, and he was bone-tired. Bending, he pushed her into the middle of the bed and took the space he’d moved her out of. Resting against the pillows and headboard, he crossed his legs.

“Wh-what are you doing?” She lifted her head, and Ryder got a look at her puffy face, eyes red, nose running.

“Don’t take offense, but that’s not a hot look on anyone,” he said, reaching for the tissues his mother said guests needed on their bedside table. Who knew she’d be right? “Plus you lost one of your lashes, and it looks like a spider leg stuck to you cheek.”

Libby kneeled and took the tissues. She wiped the lash away, then blew her nose.

“You don’t expect me to take that back, do you?”

She managed a watery sigh.

“So, Libby Gulliver, who or what are you running away from?”

If Ryder needed proof, that look gave it. She was shocked.

“Your fiancé? Family? Life? Job? All the above?”

“I decided I didn’t want to get married,” she whispered.

“Never easy if you’d done the planning. Those things are expensive,” Ryder said.

She made a snuffling sound he had no idea how to interpret. “They are.”

“I’m guessing you had good reason?” Her hair was loose and hung to her shoulders in caramel curls. She wore pajamas that were dark blue and silky. Ryder lifted his eyes back to her face and off her body, which he already knew was pretty special.

“I shouldn’t be in this room with you,” Libby whispered.

“You planning on jumping me? Because let me tell you, I’m exhausted, and you’d have to do most of the work.” He pulled out his phone and found his photos. Scrolling through, he held up the last family shot they’d taken all together.

“This is my family. I have four siblings—three brothers and a sister. Three of them are in relationships. The kid is Ally, my brother Brody’s girl. My uncle is the one in uniform. He arrived late for the cookout that day. Uncle Asher is the chief of police in Lyntacky, and my brother Dan”—he pointed at his brother—“is a deputy. My mom is a librarian, and Zoe runs Petticoat Homeware. Don’t ask me about that name because I’m still clueless.”

“I met Dan in the waffle place,” she said in a voice raspy from crying.

“Most days the chances are you’ll run into a Duke at some place in town,” he said.

She sat on her knees, now studying the picture.

“I have lived in this town my entire life, and usually people call me the easygoing, good Duke brother. I would never hurt you, Libby.”

“I know,” she whispered. “Linda and June told me that.”

“Look at you being on first-name terms.”

Her smile was small, but he saw it. “The people in this town are forceful.”

“And then some.”

He watched as she continued to look at the picture.

“It looks like you have a nice family, Ryder. Why are you called the easygoing good guy?”