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“How did he look in his uniform?” Penelope asked.
Sophie blinked at her. “You’re missing the point.”
“I need a visual.”
“How do you think he looked in his uniform?” She groaned, shaking her head. “Like a god. When he stood over me with that gun holster wrapped around his hips, I had about five hundred fantasies.”
“That’s rough.” Penelope’s tone was filled with amusement.
“Did you know he has tattoos?”
“No, I did not.”
“On his shoulder and along his ribs.” Sophie sighed. “It’s like he was custom designed to bring out the slut in me.”
Her thoughts had veered so inappropriately, so jarringly pornographic, she’d had a hard time not breaking into a sweat as he stood there, staring down at her, looking broad in his uniform, those mirrored sunglasses highlighting his strong jaw. Sophie groaned. “He looked good in tan, Penelope. Tan! You know how much I hate men in tan. It should be outlawed.”
Her friend’s lips quivered. “I’ve heard the lecture.”
“Well, he made it look good. Like ‘strip me naked and do whatever you want to me’ good.”
“I see.” Penelope calmly clasped her hands on the table. “And he almost kissed you?”
“Yes. We’d been arguing. He called me walking, talking chaos and I took offense. One second we were in the heat of battle, and the next it was all smoldering lust and too-long looks. Then I started breathing fast and he touched my arm, and it was like an electric shock actually traveled across my skin. Up my arm, Penelope! He leaned down to kiss me but his deputy, a baby that looked like he’d stepped off The Andy Griffith Show, came up and ruined the moment.”
“How interesting.” Penelope nodded as though everything made perfect sense. But it didn’t make sense.
God, what was wrong with her? Why did fighting with him turn her on so much? How deranged was it that she got off arguing? Hadn’t she learned her lesson back in college? Why couldn’t she be a normal woman and like flowers and sonnets? She stared pleadingly at her friend, as though she could provide Sophie with the answers. “What should I do?”
“What do you want to do?” Penelope would have made a great therapist. She never gave advice but instead asked annoying, thought-provoking questions that made you want to hurl things at her before you hugged her.
Sophie knew what she’d wanted. She’d wanted Ryder to kiss her. She’d wanted him to put her in handcuffs and teach her a lesson. Ryder brought out that girl from her youth, and she was supposed to be above all that now. She was not supposed to want to star in her own porno of Breaking Bad Girls.
“You know guys like him and I don’t mix.”
“That was a long time ago. And how bad could he be? He’s a cop, an upstanding member of society. It’s hardly the same thing.” That was Penelope for you, always pointing out the obvious.
His standing wasn’t the problem. The way he made her feel, all wild and crazy, was the problem. She tried a more pragmatic approach. “He’s going to be my neighbor. I don’t need things to get awkward.”
“So there’s your answer,” Penelope said reasonably.
Sophie frowned. “You aren’t going to tell me to go for it?”
“What’s the point in that?” Penelope tilted her head as though in thought. “You’re right, he’s your neighbor, and this town is small. You’ll probably see him all over the place. It’s only a couple of orgasms. Nothing you can’t take care of yourself, right?”
Everything Penelope said irritated Sophie. Which meant she was 100 percent correct. Well, good. This was exactly why she’d called Penelope. To be sensible. She straightened in her chair. “You’re right. Guys who look like that are never good in bed. Girls fall all over themselves to sleep with them, so they never cultivate any skills. I’m sure my vibrator is much better than him.”
“I’m sure.” Penelope nodded as though she agreed with everything Sophie was saying, but the light of mischief shone in her eyes.
Sophie frowned, thinking of Penelope’s own gorgeous man, who clearly knew how to give orgasms. Despite Penelope not being much of a sharer, there was no way Evan was bad in bed. Sophie cocked a grin. “I’m sure Evan is the only exception.”
“I’m sure.” Penelope smiled before waving her hand in the air. “So ignore your attraction and focus on your many arguments for why sex with Ryder isn’t a good idea. If you keep reminding yourself, that should keep you in line.”
Suspicious, Sophie narrowed her eyes. “I sense a trap.”
“I don’t see why.” One dark brow rose. “Unless you’re looking to be talked into it.”
“Of course I’m not.” But she was. That’s what this conversation had shown her. That was the problem with her—guys like Ryder made her want to throw caution to the wind, and once she did, she slipped down the rabbit hole and lost herself. Guys like Ryder always went the same way: insane, spontaneous sex in every place that wouldn’t lead to arrest, obsession, angst, anger, hurt, and eventually, abandonment. All leading to one giant clusterfuck she wanted no part of.
