Quinn Family Romance Collection Read online

  Tate released his face, and they both turned to look at Bree. She was smiling at them, but there was something analytical in her eyes, and Ryder felt like he was doing something wrong. He wasn’t sure what. Maybe being watched twenty-four hours a day wouldn’t be much fun, no matter how attractive their watcher was. He shrugged it off, took her elbow, and walked her back out of this room toward the nursery. Touching even her elbow sent a thrill through him. He’d just been alone too long. It probably meant nothing. People assumed he’d been alone for the past eight months, but the truth was he and Jessica hadn’t had a relationship in years.

  They entered the nursery, and Bree pulled in a breath. “Wow.”

  Ryder smiled at her reaction. It was a cool room. The floor-to-ceiling windows faced the side of his property that was a forest of trees, so it felt like you were outside. The colors were soft greens and grays. The room was two-stories tall with a ladder up to a play fort that looked like something off of Swiss Family Robinson. There were toys in the fort and toys underneath the bed. The bed was a few feet off the ground, a big round mattress with wooden railings to keep Tate from falling out while he slept.

  Ryder had made himself put Tate to sleep in his own bed every night, even though it was tough as Tate quite often woke with nightmares. He would cry inconsolably until Ryder sang him back to sleep.

  Bree pointed down the stairs that continued from the tree fort to the floor below. “Where does that lead?”

  “My room.” He had requested the nursery be attached to his master suite and loved the way the designer had accomplished that.

  Bree’s eyes widened, and she glanced down. “I don’t think I need to see your room.”

  Ryder’s eyebrows lifted. Would that be too intimate for her? He might be reading this wrong as he had no experience with women. Jessica didn’t count. They’d dated since they were sixteen, and she’d never really matured into a woman. Still, he had the impression Bree was interested in him. When he went out in public, he was inundated with interested women. Bree wasn’t like the cleat-chasers, but she definitely seemed to like him, or maybe her vibrant attitude just made her friendly with everyone.

  He smiled and moved on. “Let’s check out the gym and playroom.”

  They walked back around the open balcony that looked down into the main living area. On the opposite side of the house, over the garage, was his home gym, a huge playroom for Tate, and a home theater. Bree took everything in with wide eyes. Her counselor had revealed a lot to Ryder, sharing Bree’s upbringing in foster care and her complete lack of family. He couldn’t allow just anyone into their home and lives, so her background had concerned him. The counselor had reassured him Bree was sparkle and sunshine. She’d produced recommendation after recommendation about not only Bree’s excellence and aptitude in her field but also about how kind, loving, and competent she was. He felt like she was the right choice. He prayed he wasn’t just completely desperate and hoping for a miracle from Bree.

  As they perused the gym, he asked, “Do you like to exercise?” It seemed like a stupid question seeing how lean and fit her arms and legs were, but she was so thin she might just be naturally built that way.

  “I love it.”

  “You’re welcome to use this facility any time, or if you like to run or bike outside, we live in a very safe area.”

  “Thank you. Can I swim too?”

  He smiled. “Of course. I need at least three hours each morning to exercise, but we can figure out a schedule so you can work out before or after me while one of us stays with Tate.”

  “How early do you workout?”

  “I’m really flexible.” He usually started his routine at five or six in the morning so he could be with Tate as much as possible during the day.

  “I’ll do the early shift, say five to six. Then you can go after me. How early is Tate up?”

  “Eight or nine. This man likes to sleep.” He gave Tate a squeeze and was rewarded with a big smile.

  “Sounds perfect.”

  They toured the theater and toy room then went back down the main staircase where he showed her the living room, dining area, kitchen, the laundry and mud rooms, and the five-car garage. He only had his Lexus sport utility, his 1967 Camaro that he’d restored, and Ryder’s outside toys in the garage.

  “You can pull your car in here if you like.”

  Bree laughed loudly. “I was serious. I’m going to find somebody to tow that beast off. It’ll be the happiest day of my life.”

  He smiled, though something about her saying it would be the happiest day of her life made him sad. A woman this vibrant and fun should have too many happy days to count. “I’ll make some calls and find a foundation to donate it to if you’d like.”

  “Thank you.” She winked and fell into step beside him as they headed outside, and he walked with her around his five acres of grass, pool, play area, and basketball court.

  Tate reached for a basketball at the court. Ryder swept the ball off the ground and put it in his hands. He lifted him up high so the little man could shoot and get it in the hoop. Tate giggled and clapped when he made a shot after a few tries. Ryder felt a little awkward with Bree watching them play. In those high heels, she probably wouldn’t be joining in. If she was anything like Jessica, she would never be joining in.

  The ball swooshed through the hoop then bounced at an awkward angle away from them. Bree dodged in front of him and swiped the ball. She dribbled it expertly and grinned. “You wanna play?”

  Ryder glanced down in surprise. She was barefoot and dribbling the ball low and quick. She darted around him and tossed the ball up for an easy layup. Ryder shifted Tate to his left arm, leapt, and knocked the ball away before it swooshed through the hoop.

  Bree hooted. “Whoa, the boy has some skills!”

  Ryder grinned. All sports came naturally to him, but what Bree didn’t know was he’d been heavily recruited out of high school for his basketball skills first. He had ended up switching to football his sophomore year at Florida State and absolutely loved it.

  “You really want to go?”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Yes, sir, I do.”

  Ryder laughed. “What do you say, Tate? Shall we wipe her face on the court?”

  Tate nodded, grinning.

  “Ooh, I’d like to see you try.” She taunted him, dribbling the ball from her right to her left hand and then through her legs. “I was raised on a court.”

  She looked so cute in her fancy floral shirt and tight skirt, her huge curly hair swaying as she tried to dribble around him. He reached in and stole the ball easily, handing it off to Tate.

  “Hey,” she said.

  Ryder lifted Tate up. His boy shot but missed. Bree dodged in and got the rebound.

  “That’s all right, buddy, we’ll get her next time,” Ryder said.

  “Don’t you wish.” She dribbled backwards to avoid him stealing it, arched up and went for a long jump shot. It swished through the hoop.

  “Impressive,” Ryder said. He grabbed the ball and dribbled circles around her as she guarded him and tried to steal it. She finally latched on to his right arm, and the ball shot off to the edge of the court. “Foul.”

  She wrinkled her nose, staying right next to him instead of chasing after the ball. “All’s fair in war and basketball.”

  Ryder chuckled then sprinted for the ball. Tate giggled as he ran. He grabbed it and dribbled in quickly. Bree lunged toward him. He dodged around her, and as they approached the rim, he handed the ball off to Tate. Lifting his son up high, he yelled, “Now, buddy.” It was the perfect moment. Tate shot and scored.

  “Yes!” Ryder cried out. He turned, and Bree stood there with her hand up.

  “High five, buddy! You rocked that,” she said to Tate.

  Tate slapped her hand, giggling. Ryder laughed and put out his hand. She slapped it, and Ryder instinctively wrapped his fingers around hers, holding on. He was already a little short of breath from running around while ho
lding Tate. Bree’s hand in his, and her beautiful face tilted up toward him with her lips slightly parted, made his heart race. He felt like he’d just run sprints for conditioning. He also didn’t know the last time he’d had this much fun. Tate made him happy, and Ryder tried to make their playtime fun, but it wasn’t really exciting to push a truck around for hours or pretend to be a Marvel character and talk nonstop by yourself.

  Bree pulled her hand free but stayed close. “Let’s play again when I’m not wearing a skirt and I’ll really trash you two.”

  Ryder smiled. “I think the most impressive skill you have is trash talk.”

  “Oh!” She gasped, her smile huge. “I’ll show you.” She laughed. “But you’re right. I am good at trash talking.” She walked away from him, off the court and toward the playset.

  Ryder followed like a puppy on a leash. He glanced down at Tate. His son was watching Bree with a grin on his face. It seemed Tate was as enthralled with their new nanny as Ryder was.

  When Bree reached the playset, she put her hands on her hips. She was a decent height, probably five six. She’d lost a couple of inches taking off those heels. She also seemed more approachable and every bit as beautiful.

  “Why don’t you let Tate play while we talk?”

  It was phrased as a question, but it was clearly a challenge. Ryder arched an eyebrow at her. She’d gone from playful to therapist quickly. Ryder didn’t like to set his son down, but he could see the wheels in her head spinning. She thought he was some enabling parent.

  He gently set Tate down by the huge playset. Tate cocked his head and glanced up at him, clearly waiting for him to start chasing him up the ladders and down the slides. “Go play, buddy,” Ryder said. “Like you do when Lila’s here.” He’d seen his son playing on his own. It just didn’t happen often when Ryder was around to play with him.

  Tate nodded in his usual easy manner and hurried over to a small rock wall. He easily scaled it. His son was a natural athlete like him, and Ryder loved working with Tate on anything sports-related.

  Bree gestured to a bench close to the playset, a tight smile on her face.

  He sat heavily and glanced at her. She crossed her legs and her arms, her body tense and shut off. Wow, she’d converted from fun to serious fast.

  “You’re a good dad,” she said.

  “I hope so.”

  “But I can’t help Tate until you stop coddling him.”

  Ryder leaned back, blinking at her. He’d felt certain she was the right person to help them, but maybe he’d been wrong. Coddling? “If you think you’re going to come in here and tell me not to hold my son, you might need to leave now.” That was the last thing he wanted, for her to leave, but nobody told him not to hold his boy.

  She gave him a patient smile. She didn’t move, and she didn’t back down. “There’s a big difference between holding your son and treating a four-and-a-half-year-old like he’s an infant.”

  Ryder wanted to jump to his feet, grab Tate, and storm away from her. She had no right to make fun of him or tell him how to parent. She had no clue what they’d been through. It was him and Tate. Together. Period. He glanced at his boy, coming down the green slide. He popped out at the bottom, landing in a crouch, gave Ryder a happy smile then ran to the steps that took him to the monkey bars. He swung across the monkey bars with ease. Ryder smiled proudly. He could sense Bree watching him and turned back to face her.

  “I’m not here to judge your parenting style or tell you it’s your fault he’s not speaking,” she said in a low, understanding voice. “But he needs to learn to trust me, and he needs to learn to trust himself or none of this will work.”

  Ryder could understand Tate should trust Bree, but what did she mean by trusting himself? “I don’t understand how a four-year-old needs to trust himself.”

  “You want him to speak so he’ll be self-sufficient,” she said.

  “Yeah, among other things. You can see he’s smart. Of course, I want him to be able to communicate and have his own life.” The thought of Tate growing up and leaving his side made his stomach ache.

  She nodded. “There’s an intelligence in his eyes, and he definitely understands what’s going on.” She tilted her head to the playset. “He’s athletic and healthy.” She smiled. “So I’m betting you set him on his feet sometimes.”

  Ryder lifted an eyebrow at the slight. “You’re freaking out because I didn’t set him down when you were first here, but I wanted to make sure he was comfortable with you.”

  “I saw no indicators at any point that he wasn’t comfortable with me.”

  Ryder thought she was probably right.

  “When he wants something, do you expect him to use sign language and wait for him to help himself, or do you just get him what he wants when he points?”

  Ryder’s lips tightened. “You know the answer to that.” He clenched his fist and focused on Tate, who was riding gleefully down the tube slide.

  Bree put her hand on his arm. Ryder jolted from the warm pressure of her slim fingers. He didn’t get close enough to unrelated women to have them touch him. If Bree stayed, he’d have to somehow get used to how his body reacted so he didn’t let her know how attracted he was to her and chase her away like he almost did earlier.

  “I’m sorry, Ry. I’m not trying to call you on the carpet. I’m trying to help.”

  The combination of her hand, her understanding voice, and her using his nickname made him want to turn and pull her into a hug. He shook that off. “I know you are.”

  “I don’t want to change you or Tate. I just want to help you guys.”

  Ryder lifted his gaze to meet hers. Her deep brown eyes were full of understanding. He’d given her an emotion-filled speech earlier about needing her help, saying he was willing to change, and the first thing she noticed that he could change made him mad.

  He pulled in a slow breath and then said, “I’m sorry. I want to do what’s best for Tate. What are your initial suggestions?”

  She gave him a smile that radiated clear through his body and squeezed his forearm softly. How in the world was he going to keep his distance when this spicy beauty with the wild hair filled him with longings he’d never experienced with Jessica, his high school and college girlfriend and wife of over four years?

  Bree pulled her hand back and clasped her fingers together. “Don’t make any big changes, but let’s try to let him do things on his own a little more, step back and watch. Let him struggle a little bit.”

  Struggle? That sounded horrible. His eyes darted to Tate. He was running to the section of sand. He started digging in with a huge excavator toy. He looked happy and perfectly normal. Nobody would know he was mute. Hadn’t the little guy struggled enough losing his mom so young?

  “Look how happy he is,” Bree said. “Maybe he’s ready for a little independence.”

  Ryder wanted to argue that Tate was perfectly happy when he held him and played with him.

  “He was happy when you were holding him too,” she said, as if guessing his thoughts. “He needs both. The physical connection is very important, but it’s also important he knows he can stand on his own two feet and you trust him.”

  Ryder held up his hands. “Okay, I got it.”

  Bree raised her eyebrows. “But you don’t like it.”

  “This isn’t about what I like. It’s about helping Tate.”

  “That’s exactly what I was hoping you’d say.”

  Ryder focused on his son. It was strange to sit here and simply watch Tate play rather than getting down and digging in the sand with him. Bree was explaining that his son needed both—playtime and snuggling with him but also independent time as well. He snuck a glance at his beautiful speech therapist. This was going to take some time to get used to. She was going to take some time to get used to.

  Chapter Three

  Bree wondered how she was going to survive in this alternate reality. Ryder Quinn was even more beautiful and impressive up close and persona
l, and Tate was a great boy, adorable and happy. She’d done a session of sign language with Tate and worked with him on producing certain sounds with his mouth and tongue. He obediently did what she asked, he even made the correct sounds. A lot of children struggled with l, r, and s, but Tate pronounced them perfectly. However, when she asked him to parrot words, he shook his head and clammed up. Frustrating and intriguing. Why wouldn’t he speak?

  She’d been worried at the playset when she’d boldly told Ryder he needed to allow Tate to be more independent. It was uncomfortable to tell an accomplished man what to do, but after a little resistance he’d listened to her advice and had done better the rest of the day. During dinner he’d waited patiently when Tate pointed at something and asked him, “Can you please tell me what you want?”

  Tate had made the signs for please and milk. Bree would work with him on more sign language, but she didn’t want him to just resort to that and never become verbal when he was capable of speech.

  After dinner, Ryder asked Tate what he wanted to do. He tugged his dad out to the swimming pool and pointed.

  “Would you like to join us?” Ryder asked, looking at Bree. “You said you like to swim.”

  She loved to swim but had never dreamed she’d have a pool so accessible. She did a little happy dance. “Let’s do it!”

  Ryder and Tate both smiled at her. She skipped inside and up to her room. She’d had some time to unload her suitcases before dinner, but a sinking feeling in her stomach reminded her that she didn’t have a swimsuit. She’d had one in high school, but it had gotten so threadbare during college she’d thrown it out when she packed up her apartment a few days ago.

  Dang it. She really wanted to swim with them. She was already becoming attached to these two and wanted to spend more playtime with them, like they’d had playing basketball earlier.

  Digging through her workout clothes, she found her most modest sports bra and some running shorts. The sports bra was bright pink, and the shorts were a striped blue and green. She was going to look funny. And here Ryder was a multi-millionaire. Would he laugh at her?