“Hey, I just stopped to help out.” Ryland raises his hands in surrender. “But if you want me to leave…”
He slowly turns to go, making a show of it. Damn. I take another look at the empty highway. I saw one other car in the last thirty minutes being stuck here—and it didn’t even slow down as it passed me by.
“No, wait!” I stop him reluctantly. Ryland turns back with a satisfied grin. Perfect. “Do you know the number for a mechanic around here?” I ask, getting down to business.
“Sure, that’s Eddie,” Ryland replies. I pull out my phone and wait expectantly. “But it’s a Sunday, which means he’ll be out on his boat drinking beer until sundown.”
My heart falls. “There’s really nobody else?”
“Small-town charm,” Ryland grins. “Don’t you just love it?”
“Less and less,” I sigh, leaning back against the car in defeat. I already know any auto repair shop in a place like this won’t carry the specialist parts this car needs; it’ll probably be weeks to order them in, and then what will I do to get around?
“Don’t look so blue, sweetheart.” Ryland seems amused. “You found me, didn’t you? That’s one good thing this place has going for it.”
“Or a reason to get in my car and drive far, far away.” I mutter.
“Hate to break it to you, but you’re not going anywhere.” Ryland slams the hood shut. “I can call Eddie and have him tow it in the morning, but until then…” He trails off and looks around, as if to emphasize how completely stranded I am. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”
I hesitate as long as I can, but I’m not stupid. “Thanks,” I say begrudgingly, fishing my bag out of the front seat and locking up. I follow him back to his Camaro, and reach for the passenger door, but he beats me to it.
“My carriage awaits,” he quips with another of those smiles, holding it open for me. My stomach does a slow somersault as I avoid his gaze and slide into the seat.
He shuts the door after me and strolls around to the driver’s side. “Where to?” he asks, starting the ignition. The engine rumbles, loud and fierce.
“22 Beach Lane,” I reply.
Ryland nods, and soon we’re heading back along the road again; windows down, stereo on low. I run my hand over the interior door. Perfect condition, my dad would have loved it. “This thing belongs in a museum,” I say admiringly. “You don’t find sixty-eights on the road these days, it’s all collectors.”
He looks over, surprised. “You know cars?”
“Not really. My dad was into them,” I explain. “I guess I picked up a few things, growing up.”
Ryland taps the dash. “She’s a classic, alright. And you know what else they don’t make anymore? Bench seats.” His grin turns flirty again. He pats the space beside him. “Feel free to slide on over anytime. We can pick up where we left off.”
I get another flash of make-out memory and gulp. If he could make me feel that way in a crowded bar, in front of everyone, just imagine what miracles that mouth could work when we’re alone. Parked down some country back road, watching the sun set…
“Look, you need to know something.” I say quickly, before my hormones rage out of control. “Vegas was…a moment of madness. I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
“But here I am.” Ryland smiles over at me. He’s leaning with one hand out the window, the other resting casually on the steering wheel, and a wicked glint in his eyes. This is the kind of guy my daddy would warn me about, if he was still around to see.
Trouble with a capital T: gorgeous, easy, and totally off-limits.
“Maybe the universe has a reason for bringing us back together,” he adds.
“There’s no such thing as fate,” I reply, hollow. “That’s just an excuse people make to get away with all their bad decisions.”
Ryland quirks an eyebrow at my bitter response, but he doesn’t press it. Instead, he turns into Dex’s driveway and stops the car. He looks at the house and lets out a laugh. “I thought things hadn’t changed in this town. I guess I missed the part where the millionaires moved in.”
“It’s my brother’s place,” I say defensively. “And he worked hard to make it happen.”
“Hey, I’m not judging,” Ryland shrugs. “I’d be sunning myself in a luxury mansion too, if I had the chance. Hire a cute assistant to rub my back and feed me grapes,” he adds with a wink.
I roll my eyes and reach for the door. Ryland leaps out of the car, going around to get it for me, but I don’t wait. I get out—and find myself face to face with him, backed up against the car with his strapping body just inches away.
I catch my breath. My pulse kicks at his closeness. I’m used to attractive guys; I grew up surrounded by Dex’s rock-star bandmates, Blake’s chiseled actor friends, Ash and his "master of the universe" MBA business guys. I never looked twice at any of them. For me, it was always about Connor. He was pale and wiry, intense, artistic. He didn’t look like he could fit his hands around my waist, lift me up and push me against the nearest hard surface without even pausing for air…
No.
I try to stop the treacherous desire unfurling through my body, but it has a mind of its own. I stand there, frozen, as Ryland’s dark eyes burn into mine. The laughter has faded; now his gaze is startlingly direct.
He slowly turns to go, making a show of it. Damn. I take another look at the empty highway. I saw one other car in the last thirty minutes being stuck here—and it didn’t even slow down as it passed me by.
“No, wait!” I stop him reluctantly. Ryland turns back with a satisfied grin. Perfect. “Do you know the number for a mechanic around here?” I ask, getting down to business.
“Sure, that’s Eddie,” Ryland replies. I pull out my phone and wait expectantly. “But it’s a Sunday, which means he’ll be out on his boat drinking beer until sundown.”
My heart falls. “There’s really nobody else?”
“Small-town charm,” Ryland grins. “Don’t you just love it?”
“Less and less,” I sigh, leaning back against the car in defeat. I already know any auto repair shop in a place like this won’t carry the specialist parts this car needs; it’ll probably be weeks to order them in, and then what will I do to get around?
“Don’t look so blue, sweetheart.” Ryland seems amused. “You found me, didn’t you? That’s one good thing this place has going for it.”
“Or a reason to get in my car and drive far, far away.” I mutter.
“Hate to break it to you, but you’re not going anywhere.” Ryland slams the hood shut. “I can call Eddie and have him tow it in the morning, but until then…” He trails off and looks around, as if to emphasize how completely stranded I am. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”
I hesitate as long as I can, but I’m not stupid. “Thanks,” I say begrudgingly, fishing my bag out of the front seat and locking up. I follow him back to his Camaro, and reach for the passenger door, but he beats me to it.
“My carriage awaits,” he quips with another of those smiles, holding it open for me. My stomach does a slow somersault as I avoid his gaze and slide into the seat.
He shuts the door after me and strolls around to the driver’s side. “Where to?” he asks, starting the ignition. The engine rumbles, loud and fierce.
“22 Beach Lane,” I reply.
Ryland nods, and soon we’re heading back along the road again; windows down, stereo on low. I run my hand over the interior door. Perfect condition, my dad would have loved it. “This thing belongs in a museum,” I say admiringly. “You don’t find sixty-eights on the road these days, it’s all collectors.”
He looks over, surprised. “You know cars?”
“Not really. My dad was into them,” I explain. “I guess I picked up a few things, growing up.”
Ryland taps the dash. “She’s a classic, alright. And you know what else they don’t make anymore? Bench seats.” His grin turns flirty again. He pats the space beside him. “Feel free to slide on over anytime. We can pick up where we left off.”
I get another flash of make-out memory and gulp. If he could make me feel that way in a crowded bar, in front of everyone, just imagine what miracles that mouth could work when we’re alone. Parked down some country back road, watching the sun set…
“Look, you need to know something.” I say quickly, before my hormones rage out of control. “Vegas was…a moment of madness. I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
“But here I am.” Ryland smiles over at me. He’s leaning with one hand out the window, the other resting casually on the steering wheel, and a wicked glint in his eyes. This is the kind of guy my daddy would warn me about, if he was still around to see.
Trouble with a capital T: gorgeous, easy, and totally off-limits.
“Maybe the universe has a reason for bringing us back together,” he adds.
“There’s no such thing as fate,” I reply, hollow. “That’s just an excuse people make to get away with all their bad decisions.”
Ryland quirks an eyebrow at my bitter response, but he doesn’t press it. Instead, he turns into Dex’s driveway and stops the car. He looks at the house and lets out a laugh. “I thought things hadn’t changed in this town. I guess I missed the part where the millionaires moved in.”
“It’s my brother’s place,” I say defensively. “And he worked hard to make it happen.”
“Hey, I’m not judging,” Ryland shrugs. “I’d be sunning myself in a luxury mansion too, if I had the chance. Hire a cute assistant to rub my back and feed me grapes,” he adds with a wink.
I roll my eyes and reach for the door. Ryland leaps out of the car, going around to get it for me, but I don’t wait. I get out—and find myself face to face with him, backed up against the car with his strapping body just inches away.
I catch my breath. My pulse kicks at his closeness. I’m used to attractive guys; I grew up surrounded by Dex’s rock-star bandmates, Blake’s chiseled actor friends, Ash and his "master of the universe" MBA business guys. I never looked twice at any of them. For me, it was always about Connor. He was pale and wiry, intense, artistic. He didn’t look like he could fit his hands around my waist, lift me up and push me against the nearest hard surface without even pausing for air…
No.
I try to stop the treacherous desire unfurling through my body, but it has a mind of its own. I stand there, frozen, as Ryland’s dark eyes burn into mine. The laughter has faded; now his gaze is startlingly direct.
