Page 35 of How to Train Your Billionaire

I shake the thought away. I must be losing it.

“Is thatFrankie?” Malachi asks, eyes wide and locked on to where she’s leaning against the bar.

I don’t mean to look, but it’s impossiblenotto.

The dress is red—brightred—like she wore it specifically to be noticed. And it’s not just the color. It’s the way it fits, hugging curves I’ve somehow never paid this much attention to before. The smooth line of her waist, the way the fabric clings to the curve of her hips. It’s difficult to keep my eyes off her.

Her date has shaggy, sun-bleached hair, blue eyes, and an easygoing grin that probably lets him get away withwaytoo much.

He’s leaning against the bar, one forearm resting casually on the counter as he chats with Francesca and the bartender. His other hand fidgets with a cocktail napkin, absentminded, like he’s not good at standing still. He laughs at something—a loose, effortless sound—and tosses back a sip of his drink like he hasnowhereto be andallthe time in the world to enjoy it.

It’s annoying, really. Watching Ryder like some kind of case study in laid-back, surfer-bro charisma.

Ridiculous.

“Let’s get a drink,” I grumble.

Malachi leads the way to a table that’s tucked into the farthest back corner of the bar and is perfect for observing from a safe distance.

Francesca is explaining something to her date with a lot of laughter and exaggerated hand gestures.

Malachi seems transfixed.

“You’re staring,” I point out.

He shrugs. “I’ve never seen her look so ... put together.”

I clench my jaw and look away, irritated with myself. It’sFrancesca. The same woman who gives me grief at every turn and has an entire section of her brain devoted to ranking gas station snacks.

Malachi drums his fingers on the table, eyes flicking to mine. “Serious question—if you had to pick one theme song that plays every time you walk into a room, what is it? And before you say something boring, just know mine is ‘Return of the Mack.’”

“What?” I blink at him. My gaze betrays me again, dragging back over to her just as she leans over the bar to grab a cocktail napkin, the dress stretchingjustenough—

I exhale sharply and down the rest of my drink.

This is a problem.

I signal our server for another drink since mine seems to have disappeared.

Thankfully, our server appears at just the right moment, and after we order another round, Malachi does his best to steer the conversation away from Francesca. And I’ve never been more grateful. Soon though, he catches me staring again.

“I love humans with golden retriever energy.” He chuckles.

I glare at him. “This conversation would be even better if I knew what you were talking about.”

“Frankie. She’s fun and adventurous. And don’t try and tell me you haven’t noticed how cute she is.”

“Stop. She’s not cute, she’s ridiculous,” I all but snap at him.

“She could be good for you,” he muses, tapping his chin.

I rub at my temples, where a sudden headache is forming.

He gives me a look, grinning like he’s got a secret. “You have a crush on this girl.”

“I’m not going to answer that.”

“So that’s a yes.”