Hook Up: A Fake Dating, Brother’s Best Friend Romance

There’s a certain hush in the early morning, and I need to find some peace before this evening. Tonight, I tell Ryder the big news about our baby. I’m still nervous, but the call to his publicist the night before eased my mind a bit.

He’s ready to tell the world about us. I’m ready to tell him he’s going to be a father. Despite overhearing his discussion with Colton and his claim that the timing is terrible, I have to believe he’ll be excited.

Please, God, let him be excited.

“Beautiful, what’s wrong?”

I look up, my gaze meeting Ryder’s azure stare. “Deep in thought.”

Ryder strolls over to me, that effortless grace on full display, as he pulls me into his arms and swings me around.

It only takes a few seconds for me to connect the dots—how easily he’s maneuvering around his home, the exuberance I haven’t seen in weeks—his vision is back and his excited whoop solidifies my hunch.

“You are so beautiful,” Ryder exclaims, his hands framing my face.

Grasping his hands, I pull back, my heart racing. “You can see.”

His smile is a thing of beauty. “I can see, Gigi. I’m back.”

I jump into his arms, squeezing him tight. “I told you it wasn’t over.”

“I have to call Colton and let him know.”

“First things first. Let’s call the doctor and ensure everything is copacetic.”

A grimace crosses his features. “You think it might not be permanent?”

“I’m fairly certain it is, but we’ll let the expert make the final determination. Then, feel free to call whoever you like. I, for one, am retiring as your nurse.”

His fingers tangle in my hair, those full lips drifting across mine. “Might be fun to play nurse and patient later. Just saying.”

With a smack on the chest, I watch Ryder dash into the other room.

His enthusiasm is contagious.

Ryder Gray is back.

It’s been a flurry of activity for the last few hours, with the doctor in as much of a celebratory mood as Ryder about the return of his eyesight. He wants Ryder to take it easy for a while, but joked he knew that wasn’t likely to happen.

The phone has been ringing off the hook, no doubt all manner of media eager for the latest scoop. His publicist, Francine, has been squirreled away in Ryder’s office for the last few hours as they plan a press release to quiet the masses.

Ryder Gray is a big damn deal.

I’ve holed myself away in the upstairs lounge, taking advantage of the sun warming my face and the relative quiet. I tried to be of assistance, but my complete lack of knowledge about racing and celebrity made me more of a hindrance.

When I realized I was in the way, I told Ryder I was headed upstairs, but he was so involved in an animated discussion with his sponsor that I doubt he heard me.

My phone buzzes, and a smile cuts across my features. “How excited are you, Greg?”

“Is it true?”

“The doctor says his eyes are as good as new.”

“It’s a damn miracle. How are you holding up, Gigi? Don’t lie, either. I always know when you’re lying.” That’s my baby brother for you. Somehow, he always sees through my calm facade.

“A bit overwhelmed. It’s just been Ryder and me for the last couple of months, but now, everyone wants a piece of him. I’m not sure where I fit into this life, or if I fit at all.”

“Stop that shit right now. It’s crazy, like before a race, filled with excitement and nerves and jitters. But it’s not permanent. The world is thrilled that Ryder Gray is back, but he’s still Ryder.”

I mumble my agreement, but I’m not so certain. The truth is that Ryder and I existed in our own world, away from the spotlight. Hell, I can count on one hand the number of people, excluding therapists, who dropped by to visit him during his injury. Now, the house is bursting at the seams with strangers flowing in and out the door.

Perhaps I’m being petty, but where were they when he needed them most? Hell, I could have used their help when he wouldn’t budge from his bed.

“What’s your plan, Greg? Are you going to work with Colton?”

“My hope is I get to work with Ryder.”

My mouth goes dry at his blasé statement. “Ryder told me he had no plans to race again.”

A guffaw echoes through the phone. “I’m putting money on the fact that he’ll be in the next race, so long as he’s cleared. That’s who he is. That’s what he does.”

“Greg, he almost died.” Shaking my head, I refuse to let that idea set up shop. “I’m sure he’ll come back to F1 in some capacity, but not as a driver.”

“I’ll guess we’ll find out. In the interim, go give my brother-in-law a hug and spend some time with your man. Trust me, you’re still his number one priority. Talk soon.”

Taking a few extra moments to bathe in the sunlight, I suck in some steadying breaths before heading downstairs. Greg’s right. I’m being silly and jumping to conclusions—a nasty habit left over from my teenage years that never quite went away.

This is Ryder’s time to shine. He’s earned it.

Slipping downstairs, I knock softly on his office door. Ryder glances up, a smile crossing his face as he waves me over. “I wondered where you were. Come here. I’m sorry things are so crazy.” He wraps me in a hug, pulling me onto his lap.

“Understandable. How are you feeling?”

“Fucking perfect.” Grasping my chin, Ryder traces a finger along my lower lip. “I could stare at you all day.”

With a smirk, I let a bit of my sass out to play. “Take a picture. It lasts longer.”

A chuckle flies from his lips. “You’re still using that line.”

“Only with you.”

Francine offers a smile, stretching her hand across the desk. “You must be Greer. A pleasure to meet you.” She glances at the clock, clearing her throat. “Ryder, we need to get going. The press release is in an hour.”

Ryder nods, helping me to my feet. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Isn’t she coming?” Francine questions, her eyes wide. “You said you were announcing your marriage today.”

A cloud crosses Ryder’s features at his publicist’s words. “Not today. That’s too much information. We can save our announcement for another time.” Turning to me, he shoots me a rueful smile. “Are you okay with that, Gigi?”

My honest answer? No, but I refuse to dissolve into a puddle of tears in front of him, even though the sympathetic glances Francine is shooting my way aren’t helping matters.

Slipping on the emotional mask I’ve worn since childhood, I force a bright smile. “Sure. This is far more important.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

Averting my gaze, I feel the overwhelming emotions threatening to overtake me. I expected him to negate my statement. It is a big deal that he regained his sight, but so is our marriage. At least to me. “Should I postpone our dinner plans for tonight?”

Dropping a kiss on my forehead, he shakes his head as his phone buzzes for the umpteenth time today. “I’ll be back way before dinner. Besides, no one can cook as well as you. I’ll be here by six. Not a minute later.” With that, he’s out the door, leaving me to feel a bit of nowhere.

Again.

“You did a really amazing thing, taking care of him like that. Few women would have done what you did, or put up with what you did.”

Glancing up, I catch Francine’s gentle smile. “I was happy to help him.”

“Men,” she sighs, shaking her head. “Let him get over his giddiness, and he’ll come back to rights. I’ll remind him about your dinner and make sure his ass is here before six.”

So much for reminders.

I shoot a quick glance at the clock when the house alarm sounds. It’s almost three in the morning. Not only did Ryder miss the dinner, he never called me, either. The food I spent three hours preparing as a tasty treat before telling him about our baby now sits in the refrigerator.

My own hopes and dreams are just about as cold at this point.

Ryder leans over me, his lips caressing my cheek. The smell of alcohol is overwhelming, and I turn my head away. “You missed dinner.”

“I know. I’m sorry. The guys wanted to celebrate and time got away from me.”

Blinking back tears, I pull the sheet tight around my body in a futile effort to stave off the chill in my heart. “I hope none of you drove drunk.” Now I sound like a parent. Come to think of it, I feel a bit like one at the moment.

I imagine this is how my mother felt when my father crept into bed at ungodly hours of the night, claiming he’d lost track of time.

“A car service dropped us all home.”

How nice. A car service requires planning, meaning there was time to arrange transportation but not enough minutes to send his wife a text message.

My temper flares, but I talk myself down. It’s the middle of the night, and Ryder is drunk. No good can come out of a fight now.

“Hey, you okay?” Ryder slides his hand under the cover, cupping my breast, but I’m in no mood for playtime.

“I’m tired. I was asleep.”

“Can I wake you up?”

“You already did.”

His hand halts its movements, no doubt attributable to my flat tone. “Are you angry?”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

I feel him watching me in the dark, and I know he’s weighing whether to push the issue or leave it alone. When he moves from the bed to the bathroom, I relax.

He’ll leave me be for the rest of the night.

“Shit, my head hurts.” Ryder stumbles into the kitchen, shooting me a smile.

I don’t smile back. In fact, I’m tempted to chuck my laptop at his handsome head after seeing all the photos of him floating around the internet. There are oodles of them from the night before—Ryder and his celebrity racing pals at some upscale Charlotte nightclub, women hanging off them.

One woman, in particular, catches my attention.

“How’s Mandi?” I snap, sliding the aspirin bottle in his direction with far more force than necessary.

Ryder’s brow furrows as he shakes his head. Sorry, bud, pictures really are worth a thousand words. “Why are you asking about Mandi? Beautiful, I’m so sorry about last night.” He wraps his arms around my waist, but I shove him off, motioning toward the laptop.

“How nice that Mandi knew where you were. How sweet that you had time to flirt with countless women, but no time to call me and cancel our plans.”

His face drops when he sees the photos. “Shit. They were fans, excited about the news.”

“Their breasts look very excited. I suppose that’s why they needed to shove them in your face. Are you always this up and personal with your fans? With your ex?”

Ryder throws up his hands to ward off my verbal onslaught. “I didn’t touch my ex. I was shocked when she showed up. Greer, it looks bad, but nothing happened. You know me.”

“Do I?” His face falls when I utter the question that’s been spinning in my brain for the last day. “You’ve had your sight back for less than twenty-four hours and in that time you’ve stood me up, called off our wedding announcement, stayed out all hours drinking and openly flirted with”—I poke the screen, my nail clicking against the glass—“at least four women. Excuse me, fans. So no, Ryder, I don’t think I know you at all.”

He leans against the counter, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “We were celebrating. I know it got out of hand and I never meant to hurt you, but this is a big deal. I would hope you’d understand.”

Good, now it’s my fault. I know this trick. My father played it on my mother for months before he left.

“I know it’s a big deal. It’s huge. But it’s sadly amusing how you regain your sight and lose sight of me. Where were all your fancy friends these last several weeks? No one, save for Colton, came to check on you.”

“I didn’t want them around. I didn’t want anyone around.”

“You didn’t want me around, either, but I wasn’t going to let you go through that alone. When someone you love is hurting, you help them. When they’re down, you pick them up. Even when they push you away, you push back. That’s love, Ryder.” Swiping the tears from my eyes, I stand, not wanting to go any further down this conversation path.

That he celebrated, and it wasn’t with me, speaks volumes. But unlike my mother, I won’t stick around and be played as a fool again and again. I have my pride.

Ryder pulls me to him, setting me on his lap, his gaze soft. “I was an asshole. Don’t think, for one second, that I’ve forgotten who was there for me every single day.”

“You already have.”

He presses kisses to my hair, holding me fast against him. “Give me one more chance? I want to take you somewhere tonight, somewhere really special. We’ll have our celebration.”

I’m fairly certain he didn’t cheat on me and that he is remorseful for his actions the night before. But Ryder’s behavior—his egocentric, devil may care attitude—wounds me. To him, it’s an oversight. One I should forgive.

To me, it’s three strikes in less than twenty-four hours, each one proving I don’t have a place in his world.

“I don’t know, Ryder. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

That smile of his. I hate how endearingly sheepish it makes him. “Don’t say no. Trust me, I’m making it up to you.”

He’s not lying about the restaurant. It screams money—money I don’t have—not that Ryder would ever let me pay, regardless.

I’ll give it to the man, he’s generous with his funds. I witnessed that in Vegas and it hasn’t changed.

We’re seated at a private table, and Ryder is intent on ordering us everything on the menu.

“The food here is amazing. Gives Manhattan restaurants a run for their money.” Ryder leans forward, stroking a lock of hair behind my ear. “You look gorgeous. I can’t believe I missed seeing your face all these weeks. Missed seeing this killer body, too.” His gaze sweeps down my length, a flirtatious wink and smile at the ready. “But not anymore.”

“Now you get to see all the imperfections, too,” I respond with a smile.

“You don’t have any. Trust me, after twenty years, I’d know.” His phone buzzes, and he shoots me a rueful glance. “It’s Colton. Do you mind if I take this?”

Shaking my head, I wave him off. Look, I get it. Ryder Gray is the biggest name in racing and as I told him the other night, the entire world wants a piece of him. I just pray there’s enough left over for me and the baby.

Sucking in a breath, I wonder if I should broach the topic of my pregnancy tonight. I’ve waffled on it all day, uncertain how much more I should pile onto his plate.

All things considered, perhaps I need to let it lie for a few more days.

Ryder strolls back to the table, an exuberant smile on his face. “Great news.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m cleared for the next race.”

With those words, the bottom of my world drops out. “What?” It’s all I can manage and to be honest, even that is an effort.

“The doctor cleared me to race next week. He wasn’t thrilled, but he understands I need to get back out there. I’ll be back on the circuit and you are going to see the world by my side, Gigi.”

I slump against my chair, releasing a slow exhalation as I try not to lose my appetizer. “You’re really going back to racing?”

“Of course. It’s what I do, Gigi. It’s who I am. You’ll finally get to see me in action.”

“I saw you damn near die, Ryder.” My hands shake as I wrap them around my water glass. “I know you don’t see it, but you’re so much more than racing. The doctor said another accident could kill you. How can you take that chance?”

Ryder leans across the table, grasping my hands. “Do you know how many races I’ve been in over the course of my life? Hundreds. I’ve only ever been hurt in one. Granted, the timing sucked, considering we were just married, but how lucky am I? I had this gorgeous nurse taking care of me. You wouldn’t let me quit then. I can’t quit now.”

My head pounds at his admission, so expected and yet still a surprise. “What if there’s another accident?”

“I can’t predict the future.”

“Racing a piece of carbon fiber around a track at two-hundred miles per hour doesn’t help your odds any.”

Ryder leans back in his chair, his mouth turning down in a frown. “You knew what I did for a living. Racing affords us this lifestyle.”

His cold temperament unleashes my anger but I maintain a low tone. We don’t need to give the tabloids any fodder for an expose. Ryder is big enough news already. “I don’t give a shit about this lifestyle. I’m talking about you and me. About you taking unnecessary risks. About you not surviving the next crash. I’m scared, Ryder.”

He’s next to me in a flash, pulling me close as he tries to soothe my fears. “It’s always you and me, Gigi. I know this has been a rough ride, but let me show you how much fun we’re going to have.” Tipping my chin up, he steals a kiss. “Give me a smile, beautiful. Please.”

Blotting my tears with a napkin, I offer a tremulous smile, but inside, my heart is shattered. He’s right. He’s an F1 racer, and I knew that going in. What kind of woman would I be, asking him to change his life for me? The fact that I changed my life and plans for him is irrelevant. I did it willingly.

My mistake was expecting him to do the same. Expecting that the statements he made while blind would hold up once his vision was restored. But the real Ryder Gray is back, eager to reclaim his place in the history books. That another accident would almost certainly be fatal is secondary to his need to win.

I’m secondary to his need to win.

“Hey, I said I would show you the world. It’s about time I made good on that promise. It’s a bit crazy on the circuit, but we’ll have time for the best restaurants, the fanciest hotels. You’ll love it.”

Kissing away my tears, Ryder scoots his chair against mine, but I feel the acres of space between us. Space that will continue to grow with each passing day.

I force myself to eat, even though the consommé tastes like prime rib and the prime rib tastes like cheesecake. It’s all a gray blur, but he’s spent a small fortune, and I refuse to appear ungrateful.

Plus, we’re out together, which hasn’t happened since our marriage. Save for the doctor visits, which I’m happy to never revisit. At least he isn’t out with Mandi again.

Stop it, Greer. Deep breath. Relax.

He promised he did nothing with Mandi or with any of those women, and I’m trying hard to believe him. It looks bad, but that’s what the media does. They’re shit stirrers. They love making things look more dramatic than they are.

I’m a rational woman and I won’t buy into their crap. Instead, I’ll rely on Ryder’s words and actions.

“Did you enjoy the food?” Ryder asks, pressing a kiss to my palm.

“Very good,” I lie, forcing yet another artificial smile. “Do you really need me with you on the circuit? Won’t I be in the way?”

The smile fades from his face, his grip tightening. “You’re never in the way. I need you by my side during the race. You’re my cheerleader. You’re my wife.”

Ryder has a plethora of people at his beck and call, both on and off the track. Still, his words warm my heart until I glance down at our entwined fingers and the chill immediately returns.

“Where’s your ring?” The band he slipped on last night, promising me he wanted the world to know the truth, is no longer on his hand.

Ryder clears his throat, averting his gaze. “I took it off earlier today. I didn’t want the press hounding me with questions—”

“About your wife.” A fat tear rolls down my cheek as reality sinks in. I’m not even an afterthought. I’m a secret.

“It’s not like that. I promise, I’m going to tell them soon. Right after—”

“The next race. I’ve heard that one before.” Rolling my shoulders, I call upon all my strength to present a strong front. Facade, don’t fail me now. “You don’t have to tell them anything. You don’t owe them an explanation of your private life. It’s probably better you don’t say a word. I’m not much for the limelight, anyway.”

“Gigi, I know how it looks but I swear, I’m not hiding you.”

“I never said you were, but you just did.” Slipping my fingers from his, I fold them in my lap.

Strike four, and this time, it’s the final out.