Page 212 of Power Play

He wasn’t quiet, either. Ryan could actually sing, which somehow made the discovery worse.

Last night, he had shown me wounds I was still trying to comprehend. This morning, I had seen him half asleep, watched him pack underwear, learned that he considered every book he owned partly mine, and now discovered that one of the most intimidating men I had ever met was secretly a country fan.

I moved quietly across the kitchen. Ryan never heard me approach, so I reached around him and pinched both sides of his waist.

He jumped hard enough to nearly launch the coffee scoop. “¡A la chingada!”

I dissolved into laughter.

Ryan spun around, his eyes wide for half a second before he realized it was me. His hand shot toward the phone, and he paused the song.

“You fucking scared me.”

That only made me laugh harder.

His eyes narrowed. “Keep laughing.”

“Oh my gosh.” I pressed one hand over my mouth. “You sing.”

“Everybody sings.”

“You sing country.”

“That’s what you took from this?”

“You sounded personally betrayed when I caught you.”

“I thought you were still in the shower.”

“Clearly.”

Ryan reached for me, but I stepped backward.

“You stay over there.”

“Come here.”

“No, because now I know your biggest secret.”

His brows lifted. “That’s my biggest secret?”

“I said it might be.”

“You learned last night that I survived foster homes, homelessness, and enough fucked-up shit to fill three lifetimes.” He looked toward the coffee pot. “Today, you caught me listening to country music.”

I heard the warning beneath the humor and refused to let the moment drag him backward into everything he had shared.

“You weren’t listening. You were performing. That is a completely new level of information.”

He caught me around the waist before I could escape.

“Ryan!”

My towel held, thankfully.

His arm remained locked around me while his other hand restarted the music. I stared at him suspiciously.

“What are you doing?”