Ricochet by Skye Jordan

said, gesturing to Ryker. “The sun’s at your back.”
    He dropped his arms, stuffed his hands into his front pockets, and took a few steps forward.
    And she knew. Knew by the way he moved even before his handsome face came into view. And when it did, she was looking at Nathan. Again.
    Her heart jumped and pounded in her throat. Her mind scrambled. How? Why? She thought back to their conversation the night before…
    He’d known . Known who she was well before they’d gone to the hotel. Known she’d been there for him, yet hadn’t said anything. Then taken her back to the hotel—his own damn hotel room—and fucked her blind?
    She darted a look at Troy, searching for knowledge of her night with Nath—Ryker; that was going to be hard to get used to—in his eyes. But he only gave her a perplexed what’s-your-deal expression.
    That was when she realized her mouth had fallen open and purposely closed it. Anger, embarrassment, shame, fear, they tangled at the base of her throat. She dragged herself together, looked at Troy, and straightened from her desk. “Excuse me?”
    “My buddy,” he said with that hello-is-anybody-home? tone, “Ryker. You know, the one I told you about? The one you talked to over the phone last week about the explosion project?”
    “Ryker,” she clarified, looking directly into his eyes. God, she hated that name for him.
    A combination of guilt and indifference played on his face as he obviously straddled an uncomfortable fence. “Nathan Ryker.”
    Apology filled his tone but didn’t begin to touch Rachel’s fury.
    Troy gave him a strange look and added, “But everyone’s called him Ryker since he was a kid. We grew up together.”
    Holy. Fuck.
    This is not happening.
    But staring right at the man made it impossible to hold on to that little fantasy for even a second. She crossed her arms and clenched her fists. With him standing in her office, knowing how close he was with Troy, a sense of vulnerability tore at her chest. She felt so utterly exposed in the place most important to her.
    “Rach,” Troy said, “I’ve got to finish this scene. Can you get Ry to sign some basic paperwork? A release form, that kind of thing?”
    A new level of alarm snaked in. “Why does he need a release form?”
    “So he can come out and climb with us later.” Troy’s tone questioned her challenge. “And so he can consult on this bridge gig without any complications.”
    The floor seemed to roll beneath her feet like an earthquake. “Wait, wait, wait.” She held up a hand and paused to gather a sliver more composure, but only because Nathan’s eyes were on her. “You told me he was coming as a favor to you. You told me you two were going to bullshit about the project. You told me it was going to be a casual back-and-forth, nothing formal. Consulting is formal . So which is it?”
    Please say he’s only here to talk.
    The thought of having Nathan around every day reminding her of what they’d done or, holy shit, worse, if he said anything to the guys… Panic welled. Warmth travelled up her neck and into her face.
    “Um,” Nathan started, hesitantly, “Hold on. Troy…?”
    “Troy,” someone yelled into the trailer, “better get over there, man. We’re running late, and we’ve already had enough problems for one day.”
    “Tell them I’ll be right there.” Troy turned back to Rachel. “Look, just take care of Ry for me until I get back, okay. And be nice, Rach. Jax got a call from Townsend while he was on the rock. I have a feeling we’re going to need this guy”—he slapped Nathan’s arm—“more than we thought.”
    Rachel’s mouth opened, but nothing came out, there was nothing to say. Her head was spinning, her heart folded into an origami turkey. Troy jogged down the trailer’s steps, leaving behind a shake and rattle in his wake.
    Fuck, fuck, fuck .
    She couldn’t believe this was happening. Shame crawled through every cell in her body. The whole reason she’d