NICK: My flight gets in next Thurs at 4. See you then, bro.
NICK: And who’s the chick?
Shit.
I shove my phone back in my pocket. With everything going on, I completely forgot about Nick coming.
Great.
“New rule,” Ryder states as we hit the doors and step out into the parking lot. “If you’re late, you text me.”
I stop. Ryder continues a few steps, then halts, turning back.
“Hey, what’s going on?” I need to know what’s up because it feels like it’s a whole lot more than me being late.
She crosses her arms over her baggy T-shirt tucked into the front of her jeans as her eyes circle the parking lot. “I can’t do my job if I don’t know where you are. If you don’t show up when you’re supposed to, I have to go searching.”
Her body is rigid, and her eyes are fierce. She closes the short distance to stand right in front of me.
“There’s someone who’s threatening to kill you. That’s not happening on my watch, but that means I need you to communicate if you’re going to be late or if plans change.”
She’s pissed. I get that, but I feel like I’m missing something.
“I’m sorry. I lost track of time, and I’m still getting used to. . .this. It won’t happen again.”
She inhales and lets it out, her shoulders relaxing. “Ok.”
“Ok?”
She gives a quick nod and continues her quest to the car. I need to tell Ryder about Nick, and the thought has my calm interior stirring. I want to see my best friend, but explaining allof this to him and now to Ryder feels taxing, and I’m already exhausted.
“How long have you known her?” Ryder’s blunt question interrupts my inner turmoil as she begins to inspect her rental.
We’ve been switching between cars to help deter anyone who could be tailing us.
“Who? Mindy?”
She peeks at me over her shoulder as she checks the underside of the SUV. “Yes, Min-dy.”
I struggle to keep my mouth from turning upward at the way she says her name. “I don’t know. I guess since I joined the team. Although she’s been more involved in my PR schedule this season.”
“Do you have a personal relationship with her?” Her tone is softer as she rounds the car.
It’s my turn to cross my arms. “As in, have I dated or slept with her?”
Ryder stops and faces me, her hands moving to her hips. “I don’t need details, but she clearly has her eyes on you. As far as I can tell from that little interaction, it’s manic lust, but I need to know if there’s any reason it would go beyond that.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Manic lust?”
“She’s one wink or cocky smile away from picking out her wedding dress.”
I laugh, but Ryder remains impassive. “Seriously?”
“Matthews, you need to get with the program. That woman might have a life-size standee of you in her closet and be stringing together a collage of how your life will be together.”
“Well, that’s frightening.”
“You should be scared. Obsession is dangerous,” she says, getting back to work.
