Hot Finish (Fast Track #3)(8)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“I realize it’s unnerving and probably has dredged up memories, both pleasant and unpleasant, but honestly Suzanne, this is merely a technicality. You have been emotionally divorced for two years, and that doesn’t alter that.”

Screw the cookie dough. She went into the freezer for the vodka. Emotionally divorced? That sounded about as torturous as Nikki’s lettuce diet. “Do I seem like a woman who knows how to emotionally divorce myself from anything? Imogen, I’m the queen of stuffing shit down so deep I need laparoscopic surgery to pull it back out.”

“Then perhaps instead of arguing with Ryder, you should just call the lawyer together.”

That was crazy talk.

Suzanne put the cold vodka bottle on her forehead. Or was it? “Why would I do that?” she asked Imogen suspiciously. Imogen was so logical sometimes Suzanne had trouble following her.

“Instead of him trying to prove to you that he can handle this process, and you doubting his ability to handle it, you should just handle it together. A simple conference call with both of you and the lawyer should take care of all of your questions and concerns and won’t result in an argument over who did what.”

Huh. It did sound kind of simple when Imogen put it like that. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely. Call Ryder and suggest you set up a time with the lawyer.”

“I guess I could do that.” Suzanne continued to hold the vodka but didn’t take off the cap. She suddenly felt guilty about the fact that Ryder had walked out of her house with no ride. “Did Ty pick up Ryder?” she asked.

“No. He said that you were giving him a ride home. Isn’t that what you did?”

“Not exactly.” Shit. He must be still walking. “Look, I’ll call you tomorrow. Have fun grading papers. Show no mercy.”

Imogen laughed. “I’m brutal.”

Please. What Imogen was was frighteningly fair. Maybe Suzanne should take a cue from that.

With a sigh, she redeposited the vodka in the freezer, said good-bye to Imogen, and dialed Ryder’s number.

RYDER was freezing his ass off. It was damn near Thanksgiving and he was hoofing it three miles to the stupid bar to pick up his car in a town that didn’t believe in allowing people to walk anywhere. If you weren’t driving, then good luck. He had trudged his way along the yellow line, perilously close to speeding cars who weren’t used to pedestrians. After a suburban housewife nearly took him out with her Hummer, he moved off the blacktop into the damp and soggy grass. If he was going to die in a car collision, it was going to be on the track, not walking through Mooresville like a loser.

Race car driver run over by a soccer mom. Now that would be humiliating.

Even more humiliating than the fact that he was still so easily rattled by his ex-wife.

His phone rang in his pocket and he pulled it out, afraid it was one of his friends. He didn’t want to explain to anyone why he was walking.

Even worse, it was Suzanne.

He thought about ignoring her call, but in the end, he couldn’t stop himself from answering it. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” she asked.

Straight to the point, as usual. “I’m walking down the road. I should be back to my car in about twenty minutes if I don’t get sideswiped by this MINI Cooper crawling up my ass. If that happens I’ll be there in twenty-five minutes with a leg injury or two.”

“I’ll come and pick you up. I’m walking out the door now.”

It wasn’t an apology, but he was still touched. Which meant there was something really wrong with him if he felt like a begrudging concession to rescue him from the cold after she’d thrown him out in it was a sweet gesture.

“It’s not a big deal. I’m almost there.” His fingers were all numb and his nuts had probably dropped off a mile back because he couldn’t feel them, but he wasn’t about to admit that.

“Don’t be stubborn. I’m in the car.”

“Oh, I’m stubborn?” Ryder lost his footing and almost fell into a ditch full of kudzu. Was she freaking serious? “Honey, if I’m stubborn then we need a new word for what you are, because you’ve got me beat in that department.”

“I’m trying to be nice here and now you’re starting shit.”

Oh, Christ. Ryder didn’t say a word. What was there to say, really? Most of the time it felt like they were speaking two different languages anyway.

He heard Suzanne huff. “What road are you on?”

For a split second, Ryder debated telling her to just forget it, but he couldn’t. Ever since the first day he’d met her, he’d had a soft spot for Suzanne. They may be toxic as a couple, but he could really never tell her no, not even now. Especially since she was being so nice and all.

Ryder looked around and gave her his approximate location. “I’m going to stop in this gas station and just wait for you then.”

“I’m close enough that I can see it.”

The damn shame about that was he had been walking for what felt like half his adult life, and she’d eaten up the same distance in the time it had taken to argue about whether or not she should pick him up. No wonder he loved his career. He got to fly around the track every weekend at ridiculously fast speeds, which was seriously more fun than walking.

Suzanne pulled in a second later, driving the black mini-SUV he’d bought her a few years back. A punch of melancholy hit him and Ryder mentally shook his head. Clearly, watching an unlikely couple like Strickland and Nikki throwing themselves into marriage had him feeling nostalgic.

He opened the passenger door and climbed in. Before he even had the door shut, Suzanne blurted out, “Sorry.”

“What?” He was so startled by that word coming from her mouth that he turned and stared at her blankly. She wasn’t looking at him, her eyes forward, hands gripping the steering wheel.

“I shouldn’t have made you walk.”

Now he really was touched. Saying the S word was comparable to running a marathon for Suzanne. “It’s okay. I think being sideswiped by those papers with all those people around did a number on both of us. I’m sorry for egging you on.”

She finally looked at him, a smile tugging at her lips. “Holy shit. Are we actually maturing or something?”

Ryder grinned back. It was an interesting theory. “Maybe. Or maybe we’ve just beaten each other down so much we’re too tired to fight anymore.”

She made a face. “Six years of beating you down? Is that how you see our relationship?”