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“As I said, I have a good cause. I despise Wild Turkey, but I was trying to impress a girl with it.”
“Of course you were.”
He nods sagely. “She’s a fine woman, Rosalita. I think she was seventy then, and looked amazing. Also, she made the best damn poblano and roasted squash tamales I’ve ever had. I just wanted the recipe.”
I give him a curious look and smile against my will. He’ll take it and run because I’ve learned fast that’s what he does. If this man was unattractive and a pauper, I’ve a feeling women would still hang off him because that’s the super power he has.
He’s charming, he’s self-effacing, he makes you the center of the universe and he’d coax the underwear off a saint. And the man is funny.
“You can cook?”
“I’ve been known to dabble. But I’m no Rosalita.”
“Ah, but did the whiskey work?”
He sighs and it’s a theatrical sound. “Well, she said she’d keep feeding me, maybe teach me some things, but that recipe would have to be pried out of her cold, dead hands.” He pauses. “She’s still causing trouble in her little restaurant, so…no luck there.”
Then Ryder smiles low. “Maybe we should go.”
“I’m on the clock, remember? And you’ve got a time crunch.”
“After.”
Oh, Lord. After. It’s so loaded, that word. “We’ll see.”
We won’t. I know that. Because he’ll be on to his pastures he likes. Fresh, full of beautiful women.
“I’m taking that as a yes,” he says.
And as he smiles at me, a straight to the heart, screw armor and defenses and everything else smile, I realize my mistake in working with him.
This is a man a woman could fall for. Hard.
There are depths.
Layers.
And he’s got a genuine core beneath the beauty and his charm and sex appeal and dangerous ways.
Ryder Sinclair.
I’m crushing on him. Oh, so hard I’m basically glittery dust and future hurt.
Because this gorgeous billionaire is a man that no woman, especially not one like me, should ever lose their head over.
He might not mean it. He probably won’t ever notice.
But Ryder’s a man who can destroy a heart without pausing.
Including mine.
Chapter Nine
Ryder
I’m actually having a great time.
The martinis are good, the violet adding a touch of something floral without tasting like those terrible mint things you can still buy for reasons known only to the gods themselves.
