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Mmm.

My worries fade. I forget I’m leaving the shop. I forget he’s something with his ex. I forget he isn’t all mine.

He smiles. “We’re both off today.”

“Are we?” I ask.

He nods. “How do you feel about being fucked so thoroughly you can’t walk straight?”

My cheeks flush. “I can live with that.”

“I need a better yes than that, baby.”

“Yes, please.”

His lips press into a wicked smile. “Come here.”

“I’m a sweaty mess.”

“I like it.” He motions come here again.

I do.

And he makes good on his word.

For three days, everything is perfect.

Ryan and I laugh at work. We spend our evenings running together then designing side by side—covers for me, tattoo mock-ups for him. We fall asleep watching movies on his couch.

We sleep in his bed.

I barely think about how Penny used to sleep in it.

I barely think about our Thursday morning flight to Hawaii.

Or her Sunday at sunset ceremony.

Until we pack and drive to the airport and get through LAX’s typical hellish security line.

And it’s the only thing on my mind.

The Hawaiian Airlines logo might as well say Penny still owns his heart.

First class is amazing. Plush leather seats. Plenty of leg room. The quiet that comes only with people who are too rich to bother with small talk.

Ryan leans back in his seat. Intertwines his fingers with mine.

I squeeze his hand. “How much did this cost?”

“Less than you’d think.”

I shake my head. “Rich people talk.”

His laugh lights up his piercing blue eyes. “Yeah. What’s it to you?”

“I have to readjust my mental image of you if you’re rich.”

“Why? I’m still me.”

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