Then Rylan’s voice cut through, lower, intent.“You’re not alone in this, Natalie.”His eyes locked on hers, unflinching.“Whoever is targeting you—they’ll regret it.”
Her fork stilled, her gaze searching his face for something—an answer, a reassurance she could trust.“Why are you helping me?”she asked softly.
“Because I can,” he replied without hesitation.Then the corner of his mouth tilted upward, the shadow of a smile slipping in.“And because I have a vested interest in you staying alive.I still need your input on redesigning my house.”
A laugh burst from her, light and genuine, the sound breaking through the heaviness like a crack of sunlight.For the first time in days, something inside her eased—just a little.
Chapter 24
Three days after their dinner, Natalie’s heart did an embarrassing little flip when her phone buzzed with a text from Rylan.She told herself it was probably about work.Then she told herself she was not going to smile at her phone like a lovesick teenager.She failed miserably.
Rylan:I believe it’s your turn to come up with an activity.
Her thumb hovered over the keyboard.Should she suggest something bold?Or keep it casual?Something that wouldn’t end with her doing something regrettable—like climbing into his lap in public?Or blurting out something wildly flirty and then spending the rest of the night wishing she could crawl under a rock?Maybe something low-risk, like coffee… or high-risk, like miniature golf, where she’d inevitably make a fool of herself.Finally, inspiration struck.
Natalie:Are you up for something a bit tamer than last time?
Rylan:Sure.Where and when?
She fired off the park’s address before she could overthink it.A picnic.Safe.Fun.And perfectly platonic… at least in theory.
After leaving work early, she stopped by the grocery store for fried chicken, biscuits, potato salad, and bakery cookies.Nothing fancy—just enough to saycasual afternoon with a friendinstead ofsteamy rendezvous with a man who makes my brain melt.
But when Rylan strolled down the path toward her, all hopes of “platonic” dissolved.The man was wearing jeans that had clearly been designed to test a woman’s resolve, and a fitted T-shirt that should have required a city permit.Two women jogging past slowed just to look at him.
And he didn’t notice.Which somehow made it worse, because all of his attention was focused on her—and that made her heart throb with a dizzying mix of anticipation, panic, and a yearning she didn’t dare name.
“Hello,” he greeted, his deep voice sending a shiver straight down her spine.Before she could respond, he took her hand and brushed a kiss over her fingertips.
Her cheeks warmed instantly.
“What’s on the agenda today?”His eyes held curiosity—and something else that made her stomach swoop.
Natalie gestured to the blanket she’d laid out under a shady tree.“Picnic.Is that okay?”
He glanced over the setup, then back at her, his mouth tilting into a teasing smile that carried a spark she felt low in her stomach.“Very romantic,” he murmured, his voice dipping just enough to make the air between them feel heavier.As he stepped closer, the faint scent of his cologne reached her—warm spice and something sharper that made her toes curl in her sandals.
Her blush deepened, heat climbing into her ears.She busied herself opening the basket, pretending not to notice the way his bodyguards spread out nearby like silent shadows—though the real distraction was the man standing right in front of her.
“I brought fried chicken and biscuits,” she announced, holding up a plate with what she hoped was a steady hand.“Not homemade.I have no idea how to make chicken this crispy or biscuits this fluffy.”
Rylan lowered himself beside her, the subtle brush of his knee against hers a spark that lingered.“I’ll teach you,” he said, his tone low and deliberate as he broke a biscuit in half, his fingers brushing over hers when he handed her a piece.“Or better yet, I’ll just make them for you whenever you’re in the mood.”
Her pulse tripped over itself.She forced a light tone, though her voice carried the faintest hitch.“Dangerous promise.I might start making up excuses to be ‘in the mood.’”
“That’s the point,” he said with a slow grin, his gaze holding hers a beat too long—just enough to make it hard to breathe.
She quickly redirected, clutching at safer ground.“What is it about cooking that you enjoy so much?”
“It’s relaxing,” he said, leaning back on one arm as he bit into a piece of chicken.“And it’s a challenge.Getting the flavors and textures just right takes chemistry… and I like getting things just right.”
Her mind immediately went somewhere that had nothing to do with food.She shoveled potato salad onto her plate before she said something she’d regret.
They slipped into easy conversation, swapping childhood stories and favorite meals, each new detail peeling back another layer.Natalie learned he’d once burned an entire batch of pancakes trying to impress his mother, and Rylan discovered Natalie’s unapologetic obsession with mac and cheese.Between bites of fried chicken and sips of wine, laughter came more easily, the guarded edges between them smoothing into something warmer.
The tension that had hovered earlier softened, replaced by a growing sense of familiarity—as if they were settling into a rhythm neither of them had expected.
Until the last cookie became a crisis.
