Walking casually beside me, likely heading to his own car, Ryan thinks it over for a second before he shrugs. “I’m pretty free all day. I was going to head out and look for a café I could sit at and work in for a while.”
I pause for a moment, thinking over my next words before I offer them. “If you’re looking for somewhere quiet, you’re more than welcome to come to Static. We have a whole coffee lounge, because I’ve apparently hired a building full of coffee addicts. It’s a chill space, the coffee is delicious and free, and most of the photographers are heading out to different sites throughout the day. I’ll be there all day catching up on paperwork, and I have a shoot later today, so you’re welcome to hang out if you can’t find anywhere else.”
I’m not entirely sure why I even offer my workplace as a suitable spot for him to chill, but the words are out there now, and there’s an odd little flicker of hope in my chest that almost begs for him to accept the offer. Maybe I’m simply yearning for something attractive to look at, or maybe I’m doing it out of the goodness of my heart. Whatever the reason, I pretend like it’sno big deal, the epitome of nonchalance as I let him ponder the offer.
He’s still pondering when I reach my car, my perfectly intact car, so I unlock it with the fob attached to my keys and flash him a smile after tucking my purse and camera bag onto the back seat.
“Offer stands, no pressure. Have a great day,” I lamely conclude once I’ve shut the back door, hoping the cringe I feel isn’t showing on my face, especially when all I receive in return is a contemplative look that I find oddly charming.
Suddenly feeling awkward, I salute the guy with my coffee cup like an actual idiot and haul myself into my car. Before the door shuts, however, Ryan hurries around to the other side, the satchel I didn’t even notice him carrying tucked against his hip.
The passenger door is opening before I can even comprehend what’s happening, Ryan’s toned form sliding into the seat beside mine as though his ass simply belongs there. Hell, it just might, the sight of him sitting in my car rendering me stupid for five very long seconds.
Brain short-circuiting at the hotness that has bestowed my life, I blink rapidly as I gaze at the man like I’ve never seen the opposite gender before in all of my twenty-six years of life, Ryan’s lips twitching as he turns to look back at me.
My mouth falls open, shuts, and falls open again before I finally ask, “Did you lose your car?”
For some reason, it makes him laugh as he places his coffee cup in one of the two cup holders between us, answering, “I’m taking you up on your offer, and since we’re now heading in the same direction, I figured I’d carpool with you instead.”
“Huh,” I quip, laughing a little out of pure shock. I’m used to doing these things to people. Being on the receiving side is… well, it’s a little maddening, if I’m forced to be truthful.Thankfully, my years of experience have built a tolerance for certain things. So, with a very quick mental pep talk and a roll-with-the-punches kind of attitude I expect from others, I shake myself out of it and nod like it’s the most acceptable thing in the world. “Fair enough. In that case, buckle up, buttercup.”
Flashing a grin that could quite possibly disintegrate panties, he does as he’s told, and I start the car and pull out of the garage. I’m forced to focus more on the road than the musky cologne that suddenly fills my car, the scent making my mouth water more than the coffee did.
I don’t know how I manage it, truthfully, but I keep us safe and sound on the road, even when Ry strikes up a conversation about my job. Sounding genuinely interested with every question, I find myself relaxing more and more, answering him with an animation I wasn’t aware I was capable of.
It isn’t until we’re rolling into the parking lot beside the studio that it dawns on me that Ryan Young has successfully distracted me from my anxiety about being late with only the use of a delicious coffee, his presence, and his comfortable chatter. The moment realization hits is the very moment I wonder if I might actually be in danger when it comes to the new men in my life.
Chapter Sixteen
Ryan
I hadn’t planned on going on an adventure to my new neighbor’s workplace, but here I sit in her car, firing off question after question, learning what I can about the famous photographer like it’s my sole mission in life. I’m not sure what possessed me to do it, either. Maybe it’s curiosity, a deep-rooted need to know who the woman behind the camera is. Or maybe it’s because I’ve been intrigued by the blue-haired enigma since the first curse word penetrated the ceiling that separates our apartments.
No matter the reason behind my actions, I’ve never been more glad for them as I sit beside the vibrant woman wearing an ugly yellow suit she somehow makes look good, speaking at a speed I’m only just about keeping up with, and looking much calmer now than she did when I first heard her curse from upstairs and saw her standing in the elevator.
Recognizing a bad start to the day, having had plenty of them during my twenty-eight years of life, I made an extra coffee on the off chance I would run into Maddie. I’m not sure why I was seeking her out to begin with, but her absence over the past couple of days felt weird after the introduction we had, and so I decided to rectify it by bringing her a latte much like mine. The universe must have been looking down on me, because I found the manic pixie foot-tapping away in the elevator, looking stressed enough that not even the oversized sunglasses she’s wearing for the day could hide it.
I have no idea what possessed me enough to keep following her after that, but that’s a problem I’ll look into when I’m alone and not absorbing every detail I’m gathering from thenew source of my budding obsession. Hell, I could give Caiden a run for his money with how addictive I’m finding it to be in the same breathing space as Madison Fowler.
Thankfully, the entire ride to Maddie’s workplace proves to be very informative, mostly because I ask the woman every single question that comes to mind just to keep hearing her speak so enthusiastically about something she very clearly loves and enjoys. I learn pretty quickly how talented Madison Fowler is when she admits she specializes in several styles and genres of photography, her landscape and street photography receiving a hefty number of awards, though it’s her work in the fashion and celebrity industry that has propelled her career to where it is now. I learn about the incredibly long list of celebs she’s worked with, snapping promotional photos for movies and TV shows that I know I’ve seen plastered over the internet or in magazines, traveling all over the country to add more famous names to her rapidly growing list.
On top of that, she shocks me when she admits she’s very passionate about boudoir photography, something she’s evidently open about discussing without an ounce of embarrassment, making me smile as I listen to her speak.
“It’s a really great way to boost a woman’s confidence, you know? And who the hell says you can’t slip into a sexy little number and pose like a slut in front of a camera to make you feel good? Hell, I’ve done it, and I loved every second of it,” she confesses, and the sip of my latte I was taking does its best to ensure this is my last moment on earth.
Coughing and punching my fist against my chest, it takes a moment for me to guarantee my survival, but Maddie seems determined to snuff me off the face of the earth because her next words almost have me choking on my next unobstructed inhale.
“And you don’t even have to wear lingerie. I mean, free the tits and clits, is what I say. I’m all for a cheeky but tastefulnude pic to stroke a woman’s ego. Hell, blow the photo up and print it on a canvas that spans a wall for all I care. So long as it does the trick in elevating a woman’s self-esteem, I’m all for it,” she yaps away merrily, completely oblivious to the shock on my face or the way I’m barely clinging to the world of the living.
I’m a man destined to die today, it would seem, because her conclusion to a very colorful five-minute dialogue would have sent me to the grave if it wasn’t for my sheer will to live. “So long as you don’t bend over and give me a glimpse of the chocolate starfish, it’s a good time to be had. Not that I’m shaming a possible flash of the puckered hole, but a girl has to have boundaries, you know?”
No. I don’t know. But I nod like I completely understand, risking another possible death by taking a slow sip of my cooling latte.
Deciding that I might not be able to survive much more of her boudoir talk, I change the topic of conversation, steering us into safer zones that won’t get me killed. “So, what made you follow the road of photography? I’ve actually seen a lot of your work, and you’re incredible at what you do.”
I’m sure she blushes, a pink tint blooming over the apples of her cheeks, and she smiles sheepishly as she watches the road with a diligence that makes me wonder if she actually is worried about the sentient robots she was muttering about on the couch before receiving stitches.
“Thanks. It’s something I was always pretty attached to growing up, but I think something really clicked when I turned sixteen. I saw some unflattering photos of my mom online and got so mad that Mom and Dad had to take me for ice cream to calm me down. I could tell Mom was pretty bummed about them, but she was trying to hide it. So, to make her feel better, we set up a makeshift studio at home where I took cute photos of her that she shared online. After that, some of my parents’friends they worked with asked if I could take photos of them for different projects, and thus, my career was born,” she explains with a softness to her raspy voice that tickles a spot in my chest I try to ignore.
