Ryder didn't stop until he was standing right in front of me.
He reached out, planting a large hand flat against the wall right beside my head.
He leaned in, and the heat radiating off his body cut straight through the chill of the drafty house. He smelled like mint, expensive cologne, and the sharp, intoxicating scent of beer.
"You've been drinking," I pointed out, my heart hammering in my throat.
"And winning," Ryder drawled.
His voice was a low, lazy rumble, carrying the loose, liquid grace of someone who had a strong buzz going but was nowhere near losing control. His dark eyes were heavy and hooded, his gaze dropping to my lips.
"Shouldn't you be out there entertaining your fan club?" I asked, tilting my chin up to glare at him.
"She was just keeping my seat warm," Ryder rep
