“You do realize ‘vaca’ means ‘cow’ in Spanish, right? I think I’ll pass on branding myself a heifer,” I said dryly, handing it back.
“You’d be such a cute cow, though.” He swapped it for one that readBeach Hair Don’t Care.
“Ugh, don’t remind me. This humidity is stressing me out.” I made a face at my reflection in the mirror. My curls had roughly doubled in size since I styled them an hour ago. “My hair has a mind of its own here. I’m so self-conscious about it.”
“What are you talking about? You look great.” He grabbed another one from the rack and held it up with a smirk: Resting Beach Face.
I swatted him with it. “That’s it, you’re in hat time-out.”
He selected a pair of Ray-Bans from a sunglasses display and slid them down the bridge of his nose. “Be honest: early Tom Cruise or bad eighties?”
I considered him seriously. “It’s givingMiami Vice.”
He winced. “But what if I need them to shield me from the paparazzi? Help us escape mobs of rabid fans?”
I made a show of looking around at the other shoppers, none of whom were paying us even an ounce of attention. “Yeah, that seems like something we need to be concerned about.” The chances of us being recognized seemed about as likely as winning an Academy Award.
Ryder decided to buy a Seafolly sweatshirt in a dusky shade of blue, and as I waited for him to pay, inspiration struck. “Wait, I just thought of something wehaveto do.”
“Eat lunch?” he asked hopefully, pocketing his receipt.
“Almost.” I grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the door, on a mission now.
A minute later, we stepped into Sandy Pages, the bell over the door chiming our arrival like it was happy to see us. The place smelled heavenly, like coffee and old paper, a combination I’d bottle if I could. After a quick wave at the proprietor, I made a beeline for popular fiction, clapping triumphantly when I spotted it on the shelf.
“There it is,” I said, grabbing a copy ofThe Lost Letterand holding it up like a trophy. “The book that started it all.”
Ryder plucked it out of my hands and started flipping through it, shooting me a conspiratorial look. “Confession? I cried when I first read it.”
“If you didn’t, I’d think you were dead inside.” I rummaged in my purse for my phone. “We’re going to send a picture to Nate.”
“Aww, Holden and Melody’s first selfie,” Ryder teased.
He traded me the book for my phone, then hooked his armaround my neck, fitting me snugly into the cradle of his collarbone. “SaySeafolly,” he chanted, mugging for the camera. I tried not to notice how good he smelled, even as I fought the urge to bury my face in his neck. Now mynosehad a mind of its own.
“I have an idea,” he said once we were done, snagging a second copy from the shelf. “You write me a message in my book, and I’ll write one in yours. It’ll be a souvenir of our star-crossed summer.”
Which is how we ended up seated under the red-and-white striped awnings of the Seafood Shanty, scribbling away in our matching paperbacks. Once that was done and we were tucking into some lobster rolls, I learned quite a bit about him that I didn’t know.
Ryder grew up with a single mom who moved them around a lot, following what work she could find, until her precocious son begged her to move to LA so he could try his hand in the entertainment industry. Almost immediately, he started landing commercials and TV guest spots—and I quickly learned just why he looked so familiar in that audition room.
“No! You werenot.”
“Afraid so,” he said reluctantly, his cheekbones tinged pink.
“You were a regular onKids Only Club?!” I shrieked, pounding my hands on the table. “Getout!”
He blew his straw wrapper at me. “Settle down.”
“That’swhy you looked so familiar!” I broke into the theme song, complete with corresponding dance moves—I couldn’t help myself—and he gave me a droll look like,Are you finished?“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you!”
“I wasn’t one of the most prominent cast members. Mydancing skills were mediocre at best, so they mainly put me in the comedy sketches. You probably skipped past those to get to the musical numbers,” he said knowingly.
I grinned sheepishly; he wasn’t wrong.Kids Only Clubwas a long-running variety show on a popular children’s network—thinkSaturday Night Livebut by kids, for kids, and with elaborately choreographedGlee-style musical performances. The show served as a springboard for several child actors who went on to make it big and spawned some of the music industry’s hottest pop stars.
“Wow. I had no idea I was in the presence of pop culture royalty,” I said solemnly.
His warm, honey-brown eyes crinkled at the corners. “Go ahead, get it all out of your system.”
