Page 257 of The Romance Adventure

“You’re right.”

“Do you want to do this?” The insanity of my idea catches up with me and makes my heart race like I’ve already eaten a half dozen doughnuts and then tried to run up a hill.

Ryan is quiet for thirty seconds, sixty, and almost two minutes pass as I watch the women grow increasingly distraught before he exhales and nods. “Yes. I’m in. I just had to figure out how to make the play.”

“Okay, Hot Shot. You ready?” I grip Ryan’s hand, wishing we could get out of the car together, so I don’t have to let go. I tell myself it’s only because I don’t want to get mauled.

I just hope my plan works, otherwise, there’s a very strong possibility of that happening.

“Activate your charm one more time. You got this.”

“Game on.” Ryan slowly opens the driver’s side door and the women back up a little. “Ladies, ladies. I appreciate your enthusiasm. Today is a very, very special day. And you are very, very lucky.” He glances back at me.

Giving a slight nod, I cross my fingers.

“I’m wondering if you can help me out. You’d be playing a really important role. Your help would mean the world to me.”

I’m not sure they can hear him over the shrieking and sobbing.

“Please.” He casts them a smolder.

They practically swoon and fall silent, listening.

Opening his arms, he invites them into a huddle, likely telling them my plan. A few of them glare at me. Another studies me with curiosity.

I wiggle my fingers with a wave.

They break apart and walk toward the beach that’s behind the main street and the doughnut shop. Ryan disappears inside. The flutters within me build and I start to second-guess this plan. It won’t be my first time and we all know how that ended.

Then again, this is part of the Romance Game. It’s not real.

Ryan emerges and waves me out of the SUV.

One of the women peers around the corner of the line of shops. He discreetly flashes her the thumbs up, and she scurries away.

I get out of the car and wish I were wearing something nicer and had done my hair.

“This is pretend,” I blurt.

Ryan holds a cardboard pastry box in one hand and slides his other in mine as we round the corner. When we reach the beach, one of the women draws a heart in the sand. Another writes Ryan and a plus symbol followed by the letters H-A-R-L-E-Y.

“Wow, your charm flipped a switch,” I whisper.

“Glad to use it for good.”

I look around, making a good show of being surprised. One of the women hands me a flower that she must’ve plucked from one of the garden box barrels that led down here.

“Thanks.” I worry about a thorn or something pricking my finger because I didn’t outline this in the plan.

She nods and claps her hands together like a little seal.

Ryan passes one of the women the box of doughnuts and she posts herself to his left. Another flanks him on the right.

“What’s going on?” I ask as if the plan is news to me. To be fair, this part is.

Still holding my hand, Ryan pulls me into the center of the sand heart. His expression turns briefly shy, boyish. But then, pulling a half smile, like he remembered his lines, he takes my hand in his and holds it between us.

I sense two of the other women with their phones lifted—one to record and the other to snap photos from different angles.