It Started with a Bang by Piper James

Chapter Twelve

Ryder

Anabelle Parker was a study in contradictions. I’d had her pegged as some spoiled, bratty socialite, and while I had seen a few glimpses of that side of her personality, she had a whole other side I didn’t hate. Liked, even.

This beach house, while not tiny, was modest and comfortable. Decorated in soft shades of beige and blue with distressed wood accents, the whole place made me feel…relaxed. And when I relaxed, Anabelle relaxed.

And a relaxed Annabelle was a dangerous thing.

After we discovered our similar tastes in board games, we’d fallen into an easy conversation that had lasted long after our plates were empty. We discovered we had all sorts of things in common—we liked a lot of the same television shows, and had similar tastes in music, movies, and food. I found out she hated sushi, and I vowed to change her mind while she adamantly proclaimed nothing would ever change her mind about raw fish.

Unsurprisingly, she had an obsession with movies based on comic book superheroes. I’d already come to that conclusion when she told me her dog’s name, but hearing her talk about them with such enthusiasm had been…enlightening.

Anabelle had vibrated with life, her cheeks flushed as she talked about intergalactic wars, powerful stones, and the brilliance of a certain talking raccoon. I’d watched all the movies and enjoyed them, and my ability to contribute to the conversation seemed to excite her even further. She admitted none of her friends were as into the franchise as she was, so she’d never really had anyone to discuss the topic with.

The fact that I could be that person for her was inconsequential. Minor in the grand scheme of things. Yet, somehow, I felt a spark of warmth in my chest at the notion. And I couldn’t stop smiling.

We spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing on the deck. When our conversation hit a lull, the silence between us was comfortable as we listened to the waves lap the sand. At one point, Anabelle dozed off in her lounger, and I took the opportunity to study her.

She really was beautiful. With thick blonde hair that hung in loose waves past her shoulders. She was still wearing that white tank top and the shorts with the red flowers, and I could see the strap of a pale pink bra as it slipped off her shoulder.

My eyes travelled over the rest of her, taking in her amazing curves. It seemed like most of the women I’d met in Los Angeles were obsessed with their weight. Always dieting, they were hell to take out because they only ate kale. Or they were on the latest juice cleanse. Or they couldn’t have carbs. It was exhausting.

But judging by the amount of junk food Anabelle kept this place stocked with, I knew she was different. I’d opted to make the chicken salads for lunch because I figured it was a safe choice. Though I’d seen the potato chips in the pantry and the ice cream in the freezer, there was no guarantee she’d bought them. One of her friends could’ve purchased them the last time they were here.

But after we ate, it didn’t take long for Anabelle to wander into the kitchen as we talked. She’d grabbed a bag of tortilla chips from a cabinet and some guacamole from the fridge, bringing them back and setting them between us.

As I studied her now, her full breasts, round hips, and the rest of her soft curves made me feel things I had no business feeling. I jerked my eyes back to the ocean, determined not to be some creeper who ogled her while she slept.

I was beginning to think I should go back to insulting her. Throwing insults had always been my go-to defense mechanism, and keeping her at an arm’s length seemed a whole lot safer than letting myself feel…whatever it was I was feeling right now.

No matter how charming and likeable she seemed today, I knew that if I let my walls down completely, allowed myself to actually like her, I’d be setting myself up for a world of hurt. Girls like her didn’t go for guys like me, no matter how much we had in common. She’d end up with some jerk in a three-thousand-dollar suit who drove a German sports car and played golf, or some shit like that.

And I refused to analyze why that bothered me.

* * *

The next morning,over a breakfast of bacon and cheese omelets Annabelle whipped up, we decided to spend a few hours down at the beach. She locked herself away in her room to shower and change after I offered to clean the kitchen. Once the dishes were washed, dried, and put away, I headed into my own room to get ready.

Rifling through my duffel bag, I pulled out the swimsuits I’d bought while Chase and I were out shopping. One was a basic pair of red and black board shorts, and the other was an electric blue speedo. I couldn’t resist when I saw it, thinking about how scandalized Anabelle would be if I wore it in public with her.

I stripped out of the athletic shorts and t-shirt I’d been wearing and shimmied my way into the tight, bikini-style bathing suit. Walking into the bathroom, I stood in front of the full-length mirror hung on the back of the door.

“Holy shit,” I muttered, not knowing whether to cringe or laugh.

The suit hid nothing. Turning to the side, I let my gaze drift over my ass before zeroing in on my package. A laugh barked out of me as I turned to view it from the other side. I looked like a fucking gigolo on the prowl. All I needed was a gold medallion strung on a chain around my neck.

No fucking way was I going to wear this damn thing in public. Especially with Anabelle undoubtedly showing more skin than I’d ever seen of her. If my dick so much as twitched at the sight of her, she’d be sure to see it.

Nope.

But I couldn’t resist having a little fun with her. Strolling back into the bedroom, I grabbed my phone from the night stand. Pulling up the text thread I had going with Annabelle, I typed out a quick message.

Me: I bought a new bathing suit for this trip, and I’m not sure if it fits right. What do you think?

I hurried back into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror to take a full-length picture of myself. I tightened my chest and abs, winking at my reflection as I snapped the shot. Chuckling under my breath, I attached the picture and hit send.

I heard her phone chime in her bedroom, and I stood perfectly still as I listened for her reaction. There was a dull thud, a muffled curse, then silence before my phone vibrated with her response several moments later.

Princess: Might be a bit small.

The words were punctuated with an emoji of a hand with the thumb and forefinger almost touching. Like when someone would describe something as being tiny. What did she mean by that? My eyes flared, my thumbs already flying across the screen in response.

Me: Are we still talking about the bathing suit?

My thumb hovered over the send icon, but I didn’t tap it. Deleting the message, I quickly sent a few laughing face emojis and dropped my phone to the bed. Anabelle and I might’ve been getting to know each other better, but I didn’t think we were at the “sending sexual innuendos via text” phase in our relationship yet. I didn’t want to come across as some kind of weirdo creeper.

As I stripped out of the speedo and pulled on the board shorts, I wondered why I cared. She and I were entering into a business arrangement—one I was only participating in for the fun of it. And to help her out of a sticky situation. If she decided I wasn’t the guy for the job, it was no skin off my nose.

But for some reason, her opinion of me did matter.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my eyes unfocused as I analyzed that thought. I didn’t want her to think I was some slimy jerk…even though that had been my end game when I decided to mess with her. I also wanted this façade to work out for her. I wanted her to win this battle of wills against her father.

With that thought firmly in mind, I pushed myself to my feet, grabbed my phone and the flip flops I bought for this trip, and headed out into the living room. Shoving the phone into the pocket of my shorts, I dropped the sandals to the floor and wiggled my feet into them.

When I looked up, a goddess was standing before me. I felt my eyes bulge as they travelled down the length of her. Wearing a bright blue, fifties-style bikini, Anabelle looked fucking amazing. Bare shoulders made me want to bite them. Long, tan legs made me wonder what they’d feel like wrapped around me. And that inch of bare skin between the two pieces of the suit…fuck.

Yep. Changing into the board shorts was a good call.

I swallowed thickly and cleared my throat before saying, “You ready?”

Her expression fell for a split second before she forced a smile and nodded. I wondered what that was about, but the thought flew out of my head as she spun around to head to the back door, and I got my first glimpse of her ass in that bathing suit.

Good God.

I forced my gaze to the horizon as we picked our way down the wooden staircase outside. I needed to get myself under control. I’d just decided I didn’t want Annabelle thinking I was some perverted slime ball, yet here I was, popping wood at the sight of her in a swimsuit. A very modest swimsuit, by modern standards.

“I grabbed some towels, but if you want a lounge chair, there’s a few over there,” she said, pointing toward a small storage shed built against the house.

“Do you want one? I can grab it,” I asked.

“Sure, thanks,” she said, smiling as she slipped her sunglasses on.

She headed down the path to the beach as I grabbed two folding lounge chairs from the shed. I took my time, waiting for her to put some distance between us before I followed. I’d barely pulled it together, and seeing her ass swaying right in front of me would definitely not help.

“I think this is a good spot,” she said when I reached her.

I nodded, unfolding one of the chairs and placing it in the sand beside her. She thanked me and stretched out as I focused on unfolding my own chair. I could do this. As long as she didn’t do something crazy like…

“Hey, Ryder, would you mind rubbing some sunblock on my back?”

…that. Something crazy like that.

I found myself nodding, and she smiled before leaning forward to expose her back. Taking the tube of lotion from her outstretched hand, I fell to my knees in the sand and squirted some into my hand. I dropped the tube and rubbed my palms together, hesitating for a split-second before touching her skin.

I’d barely began to massage the sunblock in when she stiffened. My hands froze as she gritted out a curse.

“Am I doing this wrong?” I asked.

“Paparazzi,” she hissed. “No, don’t look. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

I rubbed my hands over her shoulders and down her arms as I leaned forward and asked, “Why would there be photographers here?”

“They follow me sometimes,” she said under her breath. “They work for the local gossip sites in Houston and Dallas. Don’t worry, this won’t make the national tabloids or anything. Shit. Someone must’ve seen you get on the helicopter with me.”

The sound of camera shutters clicking met my ears, which meant the photogs were creeping closer. Making a decision, I slid an arm under Annabelle’s legs and around her back, hoisting her up against my chest as I climbed to my feet.

“Ryder! What are you doing? Put me down,” she hissed, struggling as I started to move.

“Don’t fight,” I said through a smile as I plucked the sunglasses off her face and dropped them into her chair. “Just go with it.”

She squealed as I started to run, wading into the gulf with her in my arms. The water was pleasantly warm and crystal clear, very different from the Pacific coast beaches I was used to. When I reached waist-level, I paused for a brief second to say, “Hold your breath,” before I tossed Anabelle into the waves.

She came up sputtering, her blonde hair in her face. Bending backwards, she dipped her head in the water to slick it back. When she was once again upright, she shot daggers at me with her blue eyes. Before I could say anything, she leapt forward, attempting to push me under with her hands on my shoulders. Of course, I didn’t move an inch, which only made her try harder.

Before I knew it, all my fantasies were coming true as her legs wrapped around my waist. The move shocked her as much as it did me, if the look on her frozen features was any indication. Her eyes widened, and her grip on me loosened as she shot me an apologetic look.

Before she could extricate herself, my hands found her ass, squeezing lightly to hold her in place. If her eyes were wide before, they nearly popped out of her head at the feel of my hands on her.

“Kiss me,” I said.

“Wh-what?” she stuttered.

“Kiss me. We need to convince everyone we’re in love, right? Give the cameras a show.”

Realization dawn across her features, and she licked her lips. Nodding discreetly, she dipped her head, pressing her mouth to mine. I sucked her lower lip between mine, running my tongue over the same path hers had taken. Her fingers delved into my hair, gripping it tightly as her tongue darted out to meet mine.

Suddenly, we were all alone. No beachgoers. No photographers. No one else in the world except for Annabelle and me.

My hands kneaded the flesh of her ass, pulling her closer. My cock sprang to life as she rubbed herself against it, moaning quietly.

A growl ripped its way up my throat, startling Annabelle. She broke off the kiss, and the entire world crashed back in, reminding me where I was. And with whom.

“I think that’s good enough,” Annabelle said in choppy, broken words.

I nodded and released my tight grip on her ass. She unwound her legs and stood on her own two feet, giving me a saucy smile for our audience’s benefit before turning and wading back to shore. I watched her go, taking several deep breaths before diving under and swimming out to deeper waters.

I needed to calm down, and I needed to think. Because I hadn’t wanted to stop. I wanted to bury myself inside her, right there in the water at this very public beach with photographers snapping pictures of us.

And that was crazy. It was all fake. For show.

I just needed to keep reminding myself of that.