Probably.
But once again, I didn't turn to look, because I didn't want to seehim– the guy who'd surely track me down the moment I left.
I felt my jaw clench.Good luck with that, buddy.
Because I'd just decided where I was going, and it was so far from Chicago, at least in terms of the vibe, that nobody would ever think to look.
When I pressed the button to go down, the nearest elevator opened right away.
See?Miraclesdidhappen, even to a girl like me, who'd probably just made the biggest mistake of her life.
But so what?
At least I was alive and unbroken – well, physically, anyway.
Mentally? I wasn't so sure.
But hey, give it time.
For now, I had booze, baggage, and a one-way ticket to obscurity. As the elevator doors slid shut, I heard myself whisper, "What else does a girl need?"
3
Ryder Freaking Vaughn
Mackinac Island, One Month Later
Tessa
When the bell over the door jingled, I didn't even look up.I couldn't. There were too many baked goods needing bagging, too many tourists stuck waiting, and – this was the biggie – too few hands to keep the caffeine and carbs flowing like they should.
So…how many hands were available?
Two.
Unfortunately, they both belonged to me – the second-slowest barista on Main Street.
And thefirstslowest? Yeah, that would be my boss.
Hewas slow on purpose. But me? I was just a newb – overwhelmed, undertrained, and still off Evan Carver's radar, that is, assuming my luck held.
Already, it had been holding for a month. And with every passing day, I spent a little less time expecting trouble from Chicago.
The thought had barely crossed my mind when I looked up and felt the blood drain from my face.Oh, God. Was that...?
A muffin slipped from my hand, bounced off the counter, and hit the floor. I barely noticed. All I saw washim, one of the biggest names in Chicago real estate.
Ryder Freaking Vaughn.
The guy was unmistakable – even here on Mackinac Island, where cars were banned, bicycles ruled the road, and deliveriescame by horse-drawn carts. In a flash, I took him in – tall, blond, and sun-kissed, like he belonged somewhere on a pedestal.
The customer in front of me – an older man in a loud shirt – leaned over the counter and peered down at the muffin. "You're gonna get me a new one, aren't ya?"
I blinked. "Sorry, what?"
He frowned. "I don't want no floor muffin."
His words shook me out of my stupor. "Of course. Sorry." I summoned up a smile. "I wouldn't expect you to eat that."
