Ryder Cook Mom Novels & Stories

“Oh, it’s the secret ingredient, let me tell you…” Mom started ranting about some secret ingredient she learned while watching Gordon Ramsay. I nodded my head like I was listening enthusiastically, but I was just glad we were able to change the topic. As mom turned her back to me and continued cooking, Ryder looked at me and while no one was looking, and he mouthed, "You okay?" I smiled and gave him a reassuring nod. He looked relieved almost immediately. "So, you ready for the big match tomorrow? It's the first leg of the qualifying series, right?" Peter said to Ryder as he folded his newspaper. Ryder’s eyes quickly went to his dad.

"Watch yourself woman!" I reached for my mom's hand. "Mom, please stop!" She snatched it away. "What, you don't like to hear the truth about yourself?" The tension in the room thickened! Maddy glanced about clueless. "What's she talking about?" "I'm talking about Mr. Hypocrite here. If you're going to put my son in jail for an accident, you might as well follow him in there. Didn't you kill a member of your crew when you were running the Ryders?" Mom landed the blow.

Kailee Bennett If awkward tension could be served on a platter, my family would be the head chefs. Breakfast was… painful. Like chewing glass while smiling. Mom had made pancakes, all bright-eyed and determined to play happy families. Greg—Ryder’s dad—sat at the end of the table reading some business report like he was too rich for human interaction. And then there was Ryder. Sitting across from me. Looking like sin incarnate in a plain black T-shirt, twirling a fork like he wasn’t the cause of my emotional breakdown yesterday.

Relatives kept praising her for raising a daughter who studied overseas. Nobody mentioned I was the one paying for it. When I was three months pregnant, Mom stayed at the Brighton estate for a week. Those seven days were a nightmare. One time, Bruce poured me a glass of water, and Mom immediately sneered. "Look at you. You're pregnant, not disabled. Acting like a princess already? You can't even pour your own water?" After meals, I cleaned the dishes while she sat nearby eating snacks. "Wow. Now you know how to work hard? Where was this before?"

"Oh, damn. That smells good. Did you cook?" Adrian shakes his head, leading Ryder into the kitchen. "God, no. You know I can’t cook. My mother made it. She drops off meals every Sunday so I don’t starve to death." Ryder slides into the chair Adrian had pulled out, looking at the steaming stew with appreciation. "Your mother sounds like a saint. I need to meet her. I need to thank the woman responsible for keeping you alive." Adrian grabs a fork and sets it down in front of Ryder, leaning back against the counter. "She would love you. She loves hockey players. She thinks you guys have great stamina."

“I love you, Chase. But I want one thing that doesn’t belong to the Ryder family brand.” Dad stopped arguing with Ryan. Mom quietly placed the serving spoon down. I leaned back in my chair. I had not realized how strongly she felt about it. “There is no Ryder family brand,” Dad said. Missy gave him a look. “You and Chase are both famous hockey players. People recognize Mom from old interviews. There is definitely a Ryder family brand.” “And what am I?” Mom asked. “The only normal one.” Mom smiled. “Correct answer.” I studied Missy.

Arlene Said as they exchanged pleasantries of handshake. "Call me Emily," she said with a smile. Arlene was a bit confused when she heard this. Cody's mum was purely African, from Niagua, and it was strange for a woman in her late 40's to want an 18 year old girl to address her by her name. " We should go inside," she said. Emily loosened her grip on Cody's waist, and then she walked inside with him and Arlene following close behind.

“They have kept the restaurant running smoothly since you left, you should be grateful. Not cranky." "I'm cranky? I wonder where I got it from." I rolled my eyes, and thankfully, my mother chose to ignore it. "Cole comes around sometimes, did he tell you?" She changed the subject. "He has been very helpful around the house. That sweet boy gets us everything we need." I couldn't help the smile that brightened my face. "That’s really awesome of him to do. Maybe I should head over his house to thank him.” “Ah! That would be great!” My mother nodded in approval. “Why don’t you call him over for lunch? You guys can catch up and he wouldn’t have to cook in the evening.”

“I don’t know much about hockey but I know you are one of the best players I have ever watched.” Ed nods firmly. “Listen to your girlfriend.” Our gazes hold and lips curl up in unison. Later when dinner is over and I’m finally heading out, Ryder walks me to my car. The night air is cool, dark has fully settled, and streetlights cast soft orange glows across the driveway. I stop by the driver’s side door and turn to him. I hesitate, then ask the question that has been sitting in the back of my mind. “You never really talk about your mom. Why is that?”

“Not while I’m here.” Kayla laughed. Soft. Disbelieving. “What do you mean by that? You can’t possibly tell me you’re going to cook.” She looked at him like he’d grown a second head. Then he started rolling his sleeves up. Slow. Deliberate. Forearms coming into view, strong and scarred. She gasped. “No, right? You want to… cook? Can you even cook?” Ryder gave her a slow grin. Dangerous. “Let’s find out, sweetheart. But first…” His eyes flicked to the kitchen visible from the parlor. Bare counters. Empty fridge. “I have to go get groceries. Because you clearly don’t have time for that.”