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We’re getting the last of the hay bales tossed when Elias and my dad park their truck beside us and then hop out of it with bright smiles on their faces. Elias glares at Ryker for a moment before looking at me with a much softer gaze. “Mom got dinner ready, you ready to head back up to the house?”
I smack the side of our truck and nod. “Sure thing. Where are we taking these at this time?”
It changes every single time we do it, so I’ve learned to double-check where we’re throwing them out before I do anything else. My dad is very particular about everything.
My dad shakes his head. “Don’t worry about doing that part, sweetie. Elias will take that truck, and we’ll head down to throw them all out. You just head on to the house, and I’m sure Ryker needs to get back home.”
This is his way of trying to tell me he doesn’t want Ryker at dinner, but I guess it’s a good thing I’m an adult now and Ryker’s my guest.
I shake my head and smile. “Ryker would love nothing more than to try some of Mom’s homemade cooking, right?”
He blinks, darting my gaze between the two of them, and he looks as though he’s about to ask me to take him home until I angle my body closer to his.
Ryker clears his throat and nods with a small smile. “Homemade food sounds great.”
His deep chuckle makes my toes curl, but I manage to keep my emotions in check.
Elias glares at Ryker, his jaw clenching and unclenching in response to Ryker joining us for dinner, and I shrug. “That’s settled then. We’ll see you guys at the house?”
“Uh, do you want any extra help? I don’t mind riding with one of you,” Ryker says.
As much as I might think it’s sweet that he’s offering his services, my dad and brother, on the other hand, look at each other before shaking their heads. It wouldn’t surprise me if they’re thinking that the only reason, he’s asking is so that he looks good, not because he’s actually a nice human being on the inside.
If only they’d take a minute to get to know the real Ryker, like I have, then they’d understand why there’s no reason for them to keep scowling at him.
“Let’s go help mom set the table,” I say and tug at Ryker’s elbow.
Before I can walk too far, Elias pulls me to a stop while Ryker continues ahead, and he frowns down at me. “This is a terrible idea, Wren. Why would you bring him here to meet the family, like he’s some sort of boyfriend.”
I’d love nothing more than to answer him, but he’s got a point. I brought Ryker here, whether it was my intention or not, and he’s met my family. We went to the carnival yesterday that Ryker called ahead and reserved for just the two of us so we would have privacy. It’s looking more and more like we have more than a working relationship, a fact which I can’t even bother lying to my brother about.
I know things are getting blurred, and lying to my brother isn’t something I’ve ever been able to do. My shoulders slump in defeat, but my dad clears his throat and arches a brow at Elias to get the hell moving – guess I can thank him for giving me the out I desperately needed.
Ryker is waiting for me in the middle of the field, his t-shirt soaked through from the blaring sun, and I jog over to him with a small smile. “Sorry, Elias had something to ask me.”
It’s silent for a minute, then Ryker clears his throat and scrubs a hand down his face as he turns to watch the trucks disappear in the distance. “It’s everything they’ve seen about me, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” I know what he means, obviously, but I’m hoping that he’ll turn the conversation in a different direction.
“My past and, I guess, present. That’s why they don’t like me?”
“Who said they don’t like you?”
Ryker comes to a stop in the middle of the field and sighs. “Wren, it’s clear as day. The moment they see me their expression turns sour, like I’m the moldy chicken sitting in the back of a fridge, and they’re desperate to throw me out.”
I sigh and shake my head. “They’ve just got to get to know you, that’s all.”
“That should be fun,” he mumbles, then continues our trek through the field. “At least your mother doesn’t seem as hard on me.”
“My mother is very laid back compared to my dad; she’s a lot more understanding of certain things, and that includes everything that’s going on with you.”
“I guess I can be thankful for that,” he mutters just as we step onto the back porch and pull open the screen door that leads into the kitchen.
There’s a question I want to ask, sitting at the tip of my tongue, but I’m nervous because I don’t know what his reaction will be.
I’ll never know if I don’t just ask.
I clear my throat and pull him to a stop before we walk inside. “I’ve actually got something to ask you.”
