“What else do you want to know?”
That list was endless.
In some ways, it felt like I knew Ryan Ford better than almost anyone. Months of constant togetherness will do that. It felt like he had become my best friend—like kids who go off to camp and spend an entire summer together without knowledge of who the other person was before they landed in the woods. In other ways, it still felt like we were strangers.
“All of it,” I said.
“Ask and I’ll tell you.” Warm hands roamed my waist and stomach—and then my ass, of course. “Promise me, you’ll give me time to tell you everything you want to know,” he whispered behind the shell of my ear.
“I think we have plenty of time,” I said with a light laugh.
Ryan peppered my shoulder with kisses. “I only have two and a half weeks left. Three weeks until the rental is up and you move on.”
The relationship challenge . . . Right.
My stomach sank into churning acid.
“You’re getting close to the end of your first draft,” he said. “Where are you going after this?”
“I don’t know,” I said as I swallowed the unease. “I wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place.”
“I think where we end up is where we were always supposed to be.”
I looked down at the bright red tomato. “Yeah.”
“Need help?” he murmured as he kissed up my neck.
I craned my neck to the side, hoping he would keep kissing me. Sparks skittered in a torrent, snaking around my limbs as his breath caressed my skin.
“Wills?” he whispered.
The table—and memories of what we had done on it—caught my attention as he kissed behind my ear. “Hmm?”
Ryan’s chuckle was absolutely devastating to the dryness of my underwear. “Stop eyeing the table. It’s for eating food today. Not eating you.” He playfully smacked my ass. “Time to get going on those vegetables, cupcake. Your family will be here soon.”
I set the knife on the cutting board and peeled out of his grasp with a huff.
“Where are you going?” he called after me.
“To change my fucking underwear,” I groused.
I could hear Ryan’s laugh all the way from the bedroom as he walked back out to check on the grill.
Quickly, I wiggled out of my shorts, grabbed a new pair of panties, and got dressed again.
Damn him.
“All better?” he called.
I flipped him the bird.
“Trouble in paradise?” Amber snipped as she let herself in.
Our mom was right behind her, carrying a glass dish full of my favorite childhood dessert—Watergate salad.
“Amber,” she hissed, as if my sister was five-year-old instead of a woman closing in on forty.
“All’s good,” I said as I ran the knife through the tomato and arranged the slices on the platter of burger toppings. I did thesame with the onions, but set them aside so Ryan could toss them on the grill. “Did you have the day off?” I asked my mom.
