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Willow
Distractions & Deceptions
“What’s that face for?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s definitely something.” As soon as I said the name of the company he’d gone all stoic and glacial. I was beginning to figure him out. Sort of. Rachel told me he was fairly self contained. I’d go with vault. The kind that Hans Gruber had to use a laser to crack.
And Grumpasaurus wasn’t going to tell me because I definitely didn’t have a laser in my purse or a John McClane. Also, now that my mini freak out had a release valve, I was starving.
I was trying to be adult and everything, but this hot dude cooking thing was killing me. The bar Ransom had been distracting in a distant and annoying way, but who cooked without a shirt on?
Not to mention I hadn’t known all those muscles existed on a male body outside of the model or bodybuilder types. Then of course an errant image of him doing a bench press tripped through my brain.
Muscles quivering, concentration maxed out.
Remember the asshole part, Wil.
Even if I drop-kicked the attraction part out of my brain, the fact that I’d immediately sprinted out of Clay’s and Rachel’s place when I spotted that second box was what really freaked me out. Like I didn’t even pass go and discuss it with my sister.
Full-on Olympic gold sprinting.
Oh, and I’d never sprinted a day in my life. These coltish legs were God-given, not maintained.
And who had I run to? Right to Ransom.
My sister obviously hadn’t sent the first box. Her huge bluebell eyes had been so confused when the RID Inc. box had been waiting for us after we’d gotten back from Lucky’s. She’d assumed it was a wedding gift, but when she saw my name on it, things went sideways.
Had it been delivered at the same time as the box at the apartment?
I still didn’t understand why or how someone knew I was going to be at Clay’s place. It wasn’t as if I mentioned the date of the wedding.
Some Google-fu could obviously be at play. Clay was fairly famous thanks to the whole billionaire thing, but he tended to keep things on the downlow about his Turnbull and Happy Acres ventures.
The wedding was going to be intimate instead of the three-ring circus of a Manhattan socialite situation.
I wrapped my arms around my middle. I wasn’t even supposed to be at the orchard for another two weeks at a minimum. Had someone been watching me pack today?
“Your head is going to spin off your shoulders.”
I blinked. “I’m trying to figure out where I fucked up, if you must know.”
“You probably didn’t.”
“Does Clay keep his name off of his properties?”
Ransom frowned at me.
“You know, like unlisted or under a company name?”
“Interesting question.” Something flickered in his eyes, but then it was gone. Okay, so maybe I wasn’t figuring him out. Or he was a master at keeping his thoughts in check.
“And the answer?”
“I’m more on the security side of things, but I’ll check into it.” He moved over to the counter where the steak was resting, tucking the towel in the front of his sweats as he went.
Sweet heaven, his back was just as impressive as the front.
