It Started with a Bang by Piper James

Chapter Three

Annabelle

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

The front end of my car was a mess, I was late getting back to the office for my meeting, and I’d come off like a lunatic to the guy I’d rammed into. He didn’t do anything to deserve the venom I was spitting, but in my defense, I was completely flustered before the accident, which only served to turn a shit day into a total dumpster fire.

I’d snuck out of the office because I’d felt the need for some comfort in the form of greasy onion rings. The drive-thru line had been too long, so I’d gone inside to order and was pulling out of my parking spot when the text had come through from Dad.

I glanced down at my phone for a second, then another as the words sunk in.

Dad: You have a date with Grayson Whittall tonight. Wear something sexy.

I was in the process of biting out a fuck that between clenched teeth when I noticed the truck sitting in front of me. I tried to stop, but it was too late, and my car had slammed into it. I was taking a mental inventory, searching my body for injuries when the stranger had knocked on my window and scared the shit out of me.

From there, things had gone from bad to worse, and I’d acted like the spoiled princess he accused me of being.

Ryder Perry. With black, wavy hair, a strong jaw, and those dark, piercing eyes, I’d been instantly attracted…which only served to fluster me into acting like an idiot. Which pissed me off. Which made me yell at him like some feral, crazy banshee, tossing out wild accusations and insults.

“Oh, God,” I muttered, resting my elbows on my desk and burying my face in my hands.

I was so embarrassed. I hadn’t gotten a single thing done since I got back to the office an hour ago, and I still hadn’t responded to Dad’s ridiculous text that caused the whole incident to begin with.

Okay, so I knew it was my fault for taking my eyes off the road and getting distracted, but it felt better to blame Dad. Grayson Whittall, indeed. No fucking way.

Grayson was one of the businessmen Dad had lined up in his office for me to choose from, and I’d already told him in no uncertain terms I was not going to play his game. Apparently, he needed a reminder. I pulled up the text thread and shot off a response.

Me: I’m busy tonight. Stop trying to marry me off. I can find my own dates, thank you very much.

His response was almost immediate, like he’d been watching his phone.

Dad: Six months, Annabelle.

“Asshole,” I muttered, then my shoulders slumped.

Weren’t parents supposed to love their children unconditionally, only wanting the best for them? Weren’t fathers supposed to believe in their kids, supporting them and setting them up for success? Jaxson Parker only cared about his company, and he didn’t want to see it fall into the hands of a woman, no matter that I was highly qualified and his daughter.

“Sexist prick,” I mumbled, closing out the text thread without responding.

I picked up the business card I’d set on the corner of my desk and tapped it against the screen of my phone. Ryder’s cell number was on it—a number based in a Los Angeles area code. What was a California boy doing in Red River? I knew he didn’t have business with Parker Industries, so what else would bring him to a middle-of-nowhere place like this?

I shook my head. It didn’t matter what he was doing here. What mattered was that I was a complete asshole after I slammed into him. That just wasn’t like me, so I took a deep breath and typed his number into my phone. I really owed him a phone call, but I didn’t want to risk getting my hackles raised and lashing out again.

No. Texting was safer.

Me: Hello, this is Annabelle Parker. I would like to apologize for being rude to you today. Also for crashing into your truck. So…I’m sorry.

I tapped the icon to send the message, then set the phone aside. There. I’d done the right thing, and I felt better for it.

Now, I needed to get some work done and try to salvage what was left of the day.

* * *

“Damn it,”I gritted out as I took a drink of the whiskey sour I’d been sipping for the last half hour.

My friends were supposed to meet me at The Watering Hole fifteen minutes ago, yet here I was, alone. Ember had called as I was pulling into the parking lot to tell me she wouldn’t make it, and Sage just texted to say she was exhausted after setting up her new classroom for the next school year and wanted a raincheck.

After the day I’d had, I really needed someone to vent to, and my two best friends had flaked out on me. I wasn’t angry. Not really. But I was disappointed. I knew Sage and Ember would cheer me up while coming up with ridiculous scenarios to circumvent my father’s highhanded edict. At the very least, they’d get drunk with me.

But it seemed I was on my own. Drowning my sorrows at a table for one wasn’t really my style, so I decided to finish my drink and head home. My dog would happily listen to my problems and give me all the puppy kisses I needed to make everything better.

I was just finishing off my cocktail when he walked in. Ryder Perry walked straight to the bar and slid onto a stool. The bartender leaned forward, propping her elbows on the bar to give him a good view of her cleavage while shooting him a gleaming smile. As I watched, she nodded, flipped her long, dark hair over one shoulder and poured him a draft beer, all while eye-fucking the hell out of him. When she moved on to help another customer, I returned my attention to the man, himself.

His broad shoulders filled out the tight black t-shirt he wore. He lifted the glass to his mouth, his bicep bulging to the point where I thought it might rip the sleeve. I’d never really been into the muscle-man type, but something about Ryder told me he came by his with good, old-fashioned manual labor—not pumping iron in a gym.

His jeans hugged his ass and thighs, showing me the muscles didn’t end with his upper body. Damn, he’d look amazing in a suit.

The thought set the wheels in my mind to turning, and a certifiably insane idea started to form. I knew it was crazy, but it took hold as my excitement ratcheted up several notches. Could Ryder Perry be the answer to all my problems?

He was perfect, really. A working-class guy from out of town who—I double checked as he lifted the beer to his mouth again. Nope. No ring. An unmarried stranger with nothing to lose and everything to gain. He didn’t like me, at all, so there was little to no chance of things getting complicated.

The more I thought about it, the more the idea appealed to me. We could help each other. It could really work.

I was out of my seat and striding toward him before I could talk myself out of it. I slid onto the stool next to him and spun to face him, noting the look of surprise that crossed his face before he schooled his features.

“You never texted me back,” I said without preamble.

He cocked his head. “Did you need a formal acceptance of your apology? In that case, I accept.”

“Thank you so much,” I cooed sarcastically with a fake smile.

“Can I help you with something? I’m trying to enjoy my beer while it’s cold.”

His emphasis on the word cold puzzled me, but I pushed the confusion aside and decided to get down to business…before I chickened out.

“You’re from California?” I asked, signaling the bartender—who was frowning at my proximity to her prey for the evening—to bring me another whiskey sour.

“Yes,” Ryder said.

“What brings you to Red River?” I asked, pulling a ten from my wallet to pay for my drink and slapping it onto the bar.

“Family business,” he said vaguely, narrowing his eyes. “What’s with the twenty questions?”

“Just being friendly,” I lied. “Sheesh. Paranoid much?”

“I don’t need friends like you,” he muttered, turning forward to give me his profile.

“What is that supposed to mean? Friends like me?” I shot back, feeling my anger rising.

He turned his head, his eyes moving down my body and back up again before he met my gaze. “Spoiled little rich girls who think they’re better than everyone else.”

I inhaled sharply at the insult. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Oh, don’t I?” he asked, swiveling to face me directly. “Annabelle Parker, billionaire heiress to the Parker Empire. Daddy’s little girl, getting everything she wants with a snap of her immaculately manicured fingers. Crashing into innocent people, then blaming them for being in the way.”

“I apologized for that,” I gritted out. “And as for the rest, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He was infuriating, and my first instinct was to throw my drink in his face. He had no fucking clue what my life was like. How hard I worked, only to be overlooked because I didn’t have a dick between my legs. Being forced to marry because a single woman couldn’t be taken seriously in a man’s world.

It was all bullshit. I’d proven myself time and again, but Jaxson Parker was one zebra who would never change his stripes. I had no choice but to play his games. And because of his asinine beliefs, I had to play dirty. I wanted Parker Industries to do some good in the world, not just make my father richer than he already was. I wanted to make a difference. And I had to be willing to do whatever it took to get what I wanted.

Including this.

“Are you married?”

“What? Uh, no,” he said, his brown eyes wide.

“Seeing anyone?”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business, but no.”

“Good. I have a proposition for you,” I said leaning in close enough to smell his earthy cologne.

“You’re propositioning me?” he asked, mocking my accusation from earlier today.

Ignoring the jibe and the way his scent made my head spin, I opened my mouth and spoke the words that tried to choke me. Eleven little words that changed everything.

“Ryder Perry, I’ll pay you one million dollars to marry me.”