When I looked back to Ryder, he was grinning.
Iwasn't.Had she been listening the whole time?
But of course, she was.
Ryder Vaughn was the kind of guy who got loads of attention, even here, where the clerk probably had no idea that he was richer than sin and twice as dangerous.
Okay, so maybe he was only dangerous to me. And eventhatwas uncertain. Still, I couldn't help but notice how many times he'd been crossing my path.
Three times in barely two days?
Sure, the island was small. But it wasn'tthatsmall.
Plus, yesterday he'dclaimedhe was heading for the airport.What a liar.Probably, I should've recalled this sooner, but in my own defense, Ryder Vaughn was beyond distracting, and not only because he was undeniably hot.
He was funny. And sharp. And just a little maddening, like a riddle wrapped in a dare.
And me?I was circling the flame like a reckless moth – because there was a part of me, an incredibly stupid part of me, that wanted to share a lot more than fudge.
23
Don't Call Me Shirley
Ryder
Clutching the purple container, she stared like she couldn't decide whether I was here to swipe the bottle or steal her soul.
Fun fact.I didn't want the bottle.
As for her soul, I wasn't that ambitious. But Iwasintrigued.
She looked flustered and fierce all at once, like she had secrets worth protecting and zero trust in guys like me.
I considered everything I knew – of her, of Evan Carver, and of that whole shitshow in Chicago. And then I considered what I knew of myself.
I never did anything by accident.And yet, here I was, drawn in, for reasons I couldn't yet explain. But there was something about Tessa Sinclair that had me sticking around to find out why.
I glanced down. "So, what's with the bottle?"
She clutched it tighter. "What do you mean?"
"Do you carry it everywhere, or…?" I let the sentence trail off, even though I knew damn well this wasn't the case.
"No." She gave a shaky laugh. "Of course not."
I waited for her to say more, and when she didn't, I tried again. "So the bottle is what? A lucky charm sort of thing?"
She gave the bottle an anxious glance. "No. It's a cover-your-ass sort of thing."
My eyebrows lifted."Myass?"
"I meantmine, obviously." And yet, her gaze dipped downward for just an instant before her eyes shot up again, looking a little panicked. "You're trying to trick me, aren't you?"
I laughed. "Into what?"
"Saying something I shouldn't."
I lowered my voice. "You mean…the word ass?" I let out a scoff. "It's not even four letters."
