It Started with a Bang by Piper James

Chapter Eleven

Anabelle

When we arrived at the beach house, I climbed from the back seat in a rush, ready to put some space between Ryder and me. His scent had tortured me relentlessly, tickling my nose as I tried like hell to keep my eyes off his tanned, muscled arms and strong-looking hands.

I’d never been attracted to muscles before, but on Ryder? I’d barely kept myself from drooling. The arms of his blue t-shirt stretched tightly around his biceps, and I’d watched in a fascinated daze as he lifted a hand to scratch the back of his neck. The muscles bulged and I was sure, once again, that the material was going to rip.

He’d turned toward me, nearly catching me ogling him, and I’d whipped my head around so fast, I was sure I’d have a crick in my neck tomorrow. I kept my eyes firmly on the landscape outside the window for the rest of the drive.

Ryder climbed from the car and took our bags from the driver, who’d pulled them from the trunk. As the car pulled away, he remained rooted on the spot, his eyes taking in the house.

“What is it?” I asked, moving to stand beside him.

“I don’t know,” he said, turning his head slowly to gaze at me through his dark sunglasses. “It’s just…not what I expected.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, motioning for him to follow me up the staircase to the front porch, where I pulled my keys from the pocket of my shorts.

The Gulf had seen its fair share of hurricanes and flash floods, so the house was built on tall stilts to protect it from water damage in the event of a storm. The outside was painted a pale blue, and the storm shutters were a bright white.

“It’s quaint,” he said slowly, then shrugged. “I just figured a girl like you would own something bigger. And swankier.”

“What do you mean, a girl like me?” I asked, my ire rising as I unlocked the door and swung it open.

“No offense, but you’re kind of a princess. Don’t people like you live in castles?”

“First of all, I already told you starting a sentence with ‘no offense’ doesn’t make in inoffensive. Secondly, you don’t know anything about me,” I snapped, then paused to take a deep breath. In a calmer tone, I said, “And that’s why we’re here. Please, come in.”

He held out an arm, motioning for me to go in first. But that tiny show of chivalry didn’t erase his earlier insults. It was like he was trying to rub me the wrong way. Like this was all a game.

But it wasn’t a game. This was my life, and I was putting all my hopes and dreams right in his hands. A stranger. And not even a particularly nice one.

What the fuck had I been thinking? This was a mistake.

“Hey,” Ryder said, and I realized I’d been standing in the living room, staring at the carpet while my thoughts ran wild. When I turned to face him, he tilted his head to peer into my eyes. “I’m sorry. Yes, I was honestly surprised that the house was so small, but there was no reason for me to be such a dick about it.”

“Apology accepted,” I said, my voice stiff. “Let me show you the rest of the house.”

I led him through the open floorplan, pointing out the kitchen, the breakfast nook with windows overlooking the beach, and a small half-bath. There were three bedrooms—two masters and a small spare room with a twin bed.

I pointed to the door on the right. “This one is yours. There should be fresh sheets on the bed and clean towels in the bathroom.”

He still had my duffel bag, so I held out a palm for it. He handed it over with a small smile, and I whirled around, darting into my room while calling out something about putting my things away. I took a few moments to unpack my bag, use the restroom, and splash some water on my face before steeling my spine and heading back out into the main part of the house.

I found Ryder near the front entrance, a few grocery bags looped over his arms as he pushed the door shut behind him. I hurried forward to relieve him of some of the load, and we made our way to the kitchen. Ryder helped put away the groceries, then stood in front of the pantry for a few minutes, studying its contents.

“Are you hungry? I could make us an early lunch,” he offered, spinning around to face me.

“You cook?” I asked, my tone skeptical.

“Well, I don’t survive on takeout and ramen noodles, if that’s what you’re implying,” he shot back with a wink.

“Sure,” I muttered, ignoring the little spark that wink ignited in my belly.

“Great,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “You go relax, and I’ll call you when the food is ready.”

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” I asked.

“I think I can find everything I need,” he said.

Nodding, I turned and walked through the door that led to the balcony on the back of the house. Breathing in the briny sea air, I slumped into one of the wooden rocking chairs and stared at the waves crashing onto the beach.

It was so peaceful here. The sound of the ocean and the cries of the seagulls lulled me into a relaxed state, so much so that it felt like barely a minute had passed when Ryder poked his head out to tell me lunch was ready. My relaxed state evaporated with the return of too much nervous energy.

He held the door open for me, pointing me toward the small table. Two Caesar salads topped with pan-fried chicken sat there, along with some texas toast and two tall glasses of ice water.

“I found some wine in one of the cupboards. Would you like a glass?” he asked.

My first instinct was to decline. It wasn’t even noon yet, but a glass of wine sounded like a balm to my frayed nerves. So I nodded, and he grabbed two wine glasses and carried them over with the bottle. At least he wasn’t going to make me drink alone.

Ryder fill both glasses halfway before taking the seat across from me. I thanked him before taking a sip of the wine. Neither of us spoke as we speared bites of salad. Flavors burst on my tongue, and I nodded as I chewed.

Swallowing, I took another sip of wine before saying, “Thank you. This is delicious.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, eyeing me over the rim of his wine glass. “I know it’s simple, but I didn’t have a lot to work with.”

“I know. I just ordered the basics,” I said, stabbing another piece of chicken with my fork. “We can make a run to the store later, if you want. Or we could just eat out.”

He nodded, and we continued to eat in silence for a while. I felt weirdly at ease while simultaneously keyed up, and the contradictory emotions were confusing the hell out of me. I took one last bite before setting my fork down and draining the last of my wine.

Might as well get this show on the road.

“So, how do you want to do this?” I asked.

“Do what?” he replied, arching one eyebrow.

“Get to know each other better,” I explained. “We could make a list of our likes and dislikes and compare notes.”

“How about we just talk?” he countered. “I’ll start. What do you like to do for fun?”

I thought about his question, my eyebrows wrinkling. What did I like to do for fun? Why was that question so hard?

“Well…I like to meet my friends for drinks.”

“What else?” he asked, finishing his own wine and setting the glass aside.

“Um, I like to hike with my dog.”

“You have a dog?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “Thanos is a sweet boy, but he has a lot of energy, so we take a lot of long walks. Mostly on the weekends.”

“Thanos?”

I laughed. “Just wait until you meet him. You’ll get it, then.”

He nodded, muttering, “I love dogs.” Shaking himself, he added, “Any other hobbies?”

“Not really. I work a lot, but I try to meet up with my friends Sage and Ember regularly. Sometimes we come here together for the weekend, just to decompress. What about you? What do you do for fun?”

“Well, I don’t take helicopter rides to beachfront houses, that’s for sure.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, suddenly feeling very defensive.

“Nothing. Sorry,” he said. “I enjoy going out for drinks with friends, too. Mostly, it’s just me and my brothers. And I like to run, but I’ve been having a hard time getting the energy to get up and go in this humidity. It’s suffocating.”

“Yeah, I could see how that would be tough if you’re not used to it,” I said, forcibly lowering my hackles.

I was sure he’d been insulting me with that crack about the helicopter. He probably barely restrained himself from throwing a princess in there somewhere. But instead of reacting, I decided to let it go. For now. If we were going to make this work, we were both going to have to give a little.

Or a lot.

“I like to cook,” he continued, “and I can bake some mean chocolate chip cookies.”

“I can’t wait to try them,” I said, offering him a tentative smile.

We locked gazes for a few moments, my internal temperature rising with each second that ticked by. I had the strangest feeling his dark chocolate eyes could penetrate my deepest thoughts. Like he could actually see that somehow, despite his surly and holier-than-thou attitude, I was physically attracted to him. That I wanted more than just his gaze to touch me.

I broke eye contact, quickly turning my face away as I gulped down some water. I needed to get my runaway thoughts under control. I did not want him to touch me. I didn’t.

He was a patronizing asshole who saw me as some spoiled diva with a “poor little rich girl” complex. Admittedly, I did play up our socioeconomic differences when I was trying to talk him into this, but that was a purposeful jab to get him to agree.

I slumped a little in my chair. It was my fault he saw me the way he did. I gave him that impression, so how could I fault him for having it? I’d just have to prove I wasn’t the princess he liked to call me.

“I like to play board games,” Ryder said, regaining my attention.

“You do?” I asked, my eyes flaring wide.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he said with a husky laugh.

The deep rumble reverberated through my body, waking up parts that had laid dormant for far too long. Clearing my throat, I shook off the feeling and refocused on the conversation.

“What is your favorite game?” I asked.

“Scrabble, hands down,” he said with a firm nod.

“Really?” I asked, tilting my head. “Are you any good at it?”

“We’ll have to play some time so you can find out,” he shot back with a smirk.

And suddenly, the possible double-meaning of this conversation hit me, and I felt my face heat. Hoping my blush wasn’t too obvious, I cleared my throat again and met his gaze with narrowed eyes.

“Well, lucky for me, I have a Scrabble game here.”

“You do?” he asked, his eyebrows hiking up.

“Yep. Turns out, that’s my favorite game, too. And I’m really good.”

I gave him a devilish grin, and he chuckled. In that moment, I decided my number one goal was to make Ryder Perry laugh as much as possible. It might’ve been my new favorite sound.

“Oh, challenge accepted, Miss Parker,” he said, his laughter settling into a real, genuine smile.

And he called me Miss Parker. Not princess. It seemed like we were finally getting somewhere. Like we were on a path to actual friendship.

And I liked it. A lot.