Page 63 of The SEAL's Duchess
“I’ll explain when I see you.”
Another pause. Heavier this time. “Okay. Love you, Ives.”
“Love you, too.”
She ended the call with her thumb. She wasn’t in the habit of lying to George.
But she had less than twenty-four hours to find out what the hell was going on with BlackRock. Suddenly, her personal life didn’t seem very important at all. People were depending on her.
“Everything okay?”
She turned to find Ryder in the doorway, dishtowel in his hands, concern creasing his features. His hair was mussed, and the sweatpants hung low on his hips, revealing a slice of his Adonis V.
She’d hoped one night would be enough.
Get him out of her system.
So why did just looking at him make her body ache for his touch?
“George, just checking in.” She schooled a smile and waved the phone at him. “Apparently, the business world doesn’t stop for weather emergencies.”
Ryder crossed to her, tossing the towel onto the coffee table.
“I called my mom while you were on the phone.”
She blinked. “Your mom?”
“She was a professor of biotechnology at the University of Alaska for years—she knows everyone in the science departments. I figured if anyone knew a geologist who could look at your data, she would.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Turns out one of her old colleagues—Charles Henderson—specializes in offshore seabed analysis. Mom says he's brilliant. Uncompromising. Won't fudge the numbers for anyone.”
“Ryder—”
"There's a catch." His mouth twisted. "Henderson's a bit of a hermit. Lives off-grid up in the mountains. No phone. She gave me his address though.” He paused. “It's pretty remote. Basically a cabin in the woods.”
“I could drive up there.” Relief flooded through her, followed immediately by practicality. “If you could drop me off in town, I can rent another car?—”
“Like hell.”
The flatness of his tone made her look up. He looked at her as if she’d stepped naked into a blizzard.
“I can handle this, Ryder.”
“I’m sure you can handle a lot of things yourself.” He stepped closer, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. Her heartbeat stumbled as his scent hit her brain.
His expression grew an edge. “But you’re not going alone.”
The words struck deep—not because she needed help, but because Ryder was offering it. For once, she didn’t have to hold everything together. Part of her wanted to argue. She’d been handling her own crises for years. But another part of her—apart she’d kept carefully buried for most of her adult life—melted at the fierce protectiveness in his voice. No one ever insisted on taking care of her.
“Sarah’s happy to keep Ellie for the morning,” he continued. “I’m driving you.”
She should protest, should assert her independence, maintain some semblance of boundaries. Instead, she nodded, warmth spreading through her chest at the way he’d already arranged everything.
“Okay,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”
Something in his expression softened. “You don’t have to thank me.”
She almost laughed. Trust Ryder to make it sound so matter-of-fact, like she hadn’t spent her life holding everything together alone.
He studied her, as if he wanted to fix the image of her in his mind. Then, his hand slid into her hair, fingers teasing her scalp before settling at her nape. “Get used to it.”
