Stacy Connelly – His Secret Son (страница 2)

“Robbie, wait! Watch—” Lindsay saw the accident waiting to happen but was too far away for her words to do any good as her son barreled into a man exiting the pizza joint. “—where you’re going,” she finished weakly, relieved when the man reached out to steady her reeling son with one hand without dropping the large pizza boxes balanced in his other.

“Whoa there, bud! No need to hurry. There’s still plenty of pizza left inside.”

No need to hurry.

The words—the voice—slammed into Lindsay’s gut. She might have gasped, but the blow knocked the air from her lungs. Bright flashes of memory assaulted her, and she wanted to close her eyes, but she knew from too many sleepless nights that only made the images so much more intense.

“No need to hurry... We have all night.”

So she steeled herself to face Ryder Kincaid for the first time in a decade—the familiar green eyes, rich brown hair, the sexy half smile that had stopped almost every girl’s heart in high school—including her own. He’d always been undeniably gorgeous, even back then, and now... Lindsay swallowed. Now those good looks had been magnified by ten years’ worth of distance, ten years’ worth of maturity as he’d grown from a boy to a man.

That sexy smile was still there as he met her gaze. A dimple flashed, somewhat at odds with the five o’clock shadow defining the planes and angles of his sculpted cheekbones and rugged jawline. Her heart pounded as he stepped closer, the moment she’d at once dreaded and anticipated for all these years, finally at hand.

She’d pictured it a hundred times—his heartfelt apology for the way he’d treated her following that one warm spring night their senior year. Her cool dismissal as she proved once and for all how much better off she was without him.

How much better off they were without him.

But time, as it turned out, didn’t change everything.

Not Ryder’s smile or the casual nod he tipped in her direction before he walked by without a word.

And not Lindsay’s shock as memories grabbed hold, dragging her back to the stupid, naive and lonely girl Ryder had used and tossed aside.

For a split second, the rich, tangy scent of pizza and whistles from the video games inside changed. Transformed into the slightly musty smell of a high school hallway and the peal of the morning bell from over a decade ago...

After years of silently, hopelessly loving Ryder Kincaid from a distance, she had finally, finally gotten noticed. More than noticed. So much more than noticed, and Lindsay had known her life would never be the same. She’d waited—heart pounding with excitement and anticipation—as she stood by his locker. A few fellow students glanced her way, as if wondering what she was doing in an area where the cool kids hung out, but she held her ground. Because soon everyone would know that she and Ryder Kincaid—Ryder Kincaid—were a couple.

She caught sight of him as he walked down the hallway, his hair falling over his forehead in a casual tousle, his green eyes laughing, his easy stride all loose-limbed confidence. He was surrounded by a group of friends, but then he’d always been so popular. Quarterback and captain of the football team, he had several scholarship offers. Everyone wanted Ryder.

Excitement soured into nervousness, but Lindsay pushed the feeling back. Everyone wanted Ryder, but he wanted her. Last Friday night had proved that. And so she waited for him to notice her, for his eyes to light up the way they had at Billy Cummings’s party. Waited for him to pull her into his arms, to kiss her the way he had done only a few days ago. This time in front of all his friends so the whole high school would know that she was his girl...

Waited and watched in stunned, sickened disbelief as he walked right by her.

With a smile and a nod.

This isn’t high school. This isn’t high school. Lindsay repeated the words again and again. You’re not that same girl.

Jerking her shoulders back, she held her head high as she marched toward the restaurant. She caught sight of Ryder’s image in the large window as he strolled away, his broad shoulders, narrow hips and long denim-clad legs on display even in a wavy reflection. She watched as he jerked to a stop and slowly turned around. Saw the puzzled frown on his handsome face and thought maybe, just maybe, she heard him call out her name.

Lindsay kept going without breaking stride.

At least this time, she’d been the one to walk away.

* * *

Ryder Kincaid had known when he moved back to his hometown that he would have to eat more than a little crow.

Okay, so he had left town as the golden boy, the kid with the magical arm who’d taken their high school to the championship game and won it three out of four years. He’d been the captain of the football team, he’d been prom king and he’d dated the head cheerleader. He’d had scholarship offers from several colleges, and he’d chosen the biggest and best school to come knocking—even if that scholarship had only paid for part of his education.

After all, he’d been the big man on campus and all the best things in life were yet to come.

Big man on campus, he thought wryly. Big man in a small, small school in a small, small town.

He hadn’t realized how small until he left. Until he spent his college career riding the bench—except for one magical fourth-quarter comeback he’d engineered his junior year—backup to a kid who’d gone on to be drafted by the NFL and was enjoying the professional career Ryder had only dreamed about.

Still, he’d made the most of his college years, taking part-time construction jobs to pay for all his scholarship didn’t cover and earning a degree in architecture. He’d gone on to work at one of the most prestigious firms in San Francisco. A firm owned by his wife’s—now ex-wife’s—family. A job more than a few people around Clearville seemed to think he’d gotten on nepotism alone since the end of his marriage had also signaled the end of his career.

So, yeah, he’d had to grin and bear it when people jabbed him with the glory days of high school—“Peaked too soon, didn’t you, Kincaid?”—and when they rubbed in the loss of his career—“You know what they say, never a good idea to work for family”—even though he really didn’t think he deserved all that.

He’d had big dreams in high school—all centered on a game and a girl he loved. How did he end up the bad guy, the failure, when they had been the ones to betray him?

Ryder pushed aside the bitterness as he climbed the front steps to his brother’s house. His family, at least, had welcomed him back with open arms, though they, too—or his mother at least—still looked at him with the question in her eyes. Where had it all gone wrong?

Marriage in the Kincaid family was supposed to be forever. His and Brittany’s had barely made it to the six-year mark.

He balanced the pizzas in one hand, the hot crust warm even through a layer of cardboard, as he gave a quick knock and opened the front door. The sounds of kids playing—his nephews and whatever friends they might have invited over—rang out from the back of the house, and for an instant, Ryder thought of the boy at the pizza parlor. The one who’d barreled into him on his way out.

He’d gotten a quick glimpse of blond hair, glasses too big for a narrow face and a skinny body. After that, Ryder’s attention had been claimed by the woman trailing behind.

After his marriage to Brittany and their turbulent on-again, off-again relationship spanning back to high school, Ryder had learned to keep his awareness when it came to the opposite sex well under wraps.

That didn’t mean he didn’t notice beautiful women. Hell, he was still a guy. And the woman who’d been standing on the sideway was definitely a beautiful woman. Her dark blond hair had been pulled back from her delicate features and wide blue-green gaze. At first glimpse, her eyes had widened with concern, then surprise as her warning to the boy died on her lips. Pale pink lips that had glistened with a hint of expertly applied makeup.

She hadn’t had the look of a local picking up pizza for the family. Jeans and T-shirts were the typical dress code for almost every eating establishment in town, and her beige linen slacks and pale green blouse guaranteed she’d stand out—as if her beauty alone wasn’t enough to set her apart from the crowd.

His instant attraction had caught him off guard. The ink on his divorce papers was barely dry, so even looking at another woman felt as smart as hitting himself in the head with a hammer. For the second time.

Only as he’d walked away did he realize that the woman looked familiar. Something in the not quite blue, not quite green of her eyes. In the expressive eyebrows a shade darker than her hair. In the heart-shaped contours of her face.

If the woman had indeed been Lindsay Brookes and if she’d ignored him as he’d called out her name, well, that was one smackdown he definitely deserved.

When he thought of the way he’d treated her after that one night their senior year, Ryder cringed. He tried hard not to think about the way he’d so pointedly dismissed her. He’d had his reasons at the time, good reasons, though Lindsay couldn’t have known that. She couldn’t have thought anything other than the obvious—that he’d slept with her on the rebound during another breakup with Brittany, used her and tossed her aside.