Page 213 of Power Play

“Apparently exposing more secrets.”

Then he started dancing with me.

He was actually dancing barefoot in his kitchen while coffee dripped into the pot behind us. I laughed so hard that I had to grab his shoulders when he turned us, and the ridiculousness of the moment loosened the knot in my chest more effectively than counting tiles ever could.

I looked up at him. “Mi amor, are you a closet country fan?”

His smile changed. I hadn’t considered the endearment before saying it, but Ryan heard every syllable.

I knew because his arm tightened around my waist. “Say that again.”

“What?”

“You know what.”

I smiled. “Mi amor.”

“Better.”

Then the bastard dipped me.

I squealed and grabbed him tighter as my wet hair swung behind me. Ryan held me securely, looking far too pleased with himself before lowering his mouth to mine and kissing me upside down.

When he finally brought me upright, I was breathless and laughing.

“Yes, mi amor,” he said.

“You admit it?”

His thumb brushed water from my cheek before he answered in Spanish.

“A mi mamá le encantaban George Strait y Tim McGraw. Crecí escuchando música country con ella.”

I caught enough to recognize his mother, George Strait, Tim McGraw, and something about growing up.

“Translate.”

“My mom loved George Strait and Tim McGraw. I grew up listening to country music with her.”

The warmth inside me deepened. I pictured Juanita singing while she cooked, the woman Ryan had described so vividly that sometimes I could almost hear her voice threaded through his stories.

“So, this reminds you of her?”

“Some of it.” His eyes moved toward the phone. “She liked old country more than this shit.”

“Don’t insult Riley Green after I caught you giving everything to a private kitchen performance.”

“I wasn’t performing.”

“You were emotionally committed.”

Ryan laughed.

“Has this been a lifelong secret?”

“It was only a secret to you.”

I stared at him. “Everybody knows?”