A knock on the door made me jump.
“Go.” Ryder gave me a gentle shove, glancing at the door. “I’ll handle this. Bathroom’s through the bedroom, you can’t miss it.”
9
Ryder
Astrid slippedthrough the door once I had it about three inches open, striding into my apartment like she owned the place, laden down with bags and parcels.
I took the ones I could get to from her out of habit as I heard the shower start up.
Astrid’s eyes widened, a smile playing around her bright coral lips. “Is that him?” she asked, glancing toward the bedroom door.
“Yeah, that’s Ward,” I said.
I wasn’t sure why saying that made me blush. Maybe Astrid knowing there was a naked man in my apartment was part of it.
Maybemeknowing there was a nakedWardin my apartment was part of it.
How many times had I had this fantasy? Ward calling me up one day, telling me he was going to be in town for whatever reason, showing up with that perfect smile and those soft puppy eyes…
“Can I take a peek?” Astrid asked, peering through the open bedroom door toward the thankfully closed bathroom one.
“No!”
Was that too much? Was I objecting too hard?
Of course not. I wouldn’t have let Astrid go peek if it’d been Mr. Harrison in the shower, either. Or anyone else.
Astrid held her hands up defensively. “Kidding,” she said. “I thought you weren’t dating him.”
“Is this a trick question?” I asked. “I’m not, but I’m… pretending to.”
“Method acting?” Astrid asked.
“That’s not what method acting is,” I said.
“Yes it is,” Astrid replied, dumping the rest of the bags and packages she was carrying on my couch. “Method acting is when you pretend to really be the person you’re supposed to be pretending to be.”
Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow.
“You know what I mean,” she said, hunting through the bags. I watched as she searched each of them before looking up, sighing, and snatching one of the ones I was still holding out of my hand.
Soon enough there were clothes and accessories spread all over as though a Nordstrom’s had vomited in my living room.
That was also approximately what my bed looked like when I was getting ready to go out, so I understood what was happening here.
“These are for Ward?”
“Got it in one,” Astrid said, standing back to admire her handiwork. “See anything you like?”
I had to hand it to Astrid—she’d only seen two photos of Ward now, but she’d picked out the ideal wardrobe for him. Not much of it was the kind of thing he’d wear, but I could picture him in all of it looking like he’d just landed a modelling contract.
A tiny thrill ran through me at the thought of seeing Ward all dressed up for once in his life. Not that he wasn’t sexy in a plaid shirt or a pair of old sweatpants, but I’d never seen him make anything that could reasonably be called an effort before.
“You were right,” Ward called from the bedroom. “I do feel a lot better after a—”
I turned to see him standing in the doorway, towel just barely hanging around his hips, hair freed from the perpetual man-bun and hanging around his shoulders.
