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“I doubt it. He was there for the first couple of practices after you guys broke up, but hasn’t been since,” Diesel replied. “What I know is that you shouldn’t care. That dude isn’t worthy ofanyemotion from you other than disgust. And you know the Grunge City Girls have your back, 100%.”
Nita straightened her shoulders and walked to the window. Outside, another gust of rain-soaked wind made the pane rattle. Diesel was right—Luke didn’t deserve any space in her thoughts.
“I’ll be there,” she affirmed.
Then an idea bubbled up. It was one of those ideas you have when you’re the weird kid and being bullied and want revenge on your bully by having the biggest, toughest guy nearby to protect you.
“I might bring a friend along,” she mused to Diesel.
“Awww, Nita made a new friend,” Diesel joked. “I thought I was your only friend.” There was a mumble in the background. “Sorry, we thoughtwewere your only friends.”
Nita chuckled, loving the burly woman with all her heart. “He’s not exactly a friend,” she confessed, a hint of intrigue in her voice. “He’s my temporary boss.”
Diesel laughed sarcastically. “The way you say that makes me think there are some juicy details you need to tell me about this so-called boss.”
Nita laughed.
“Whenaren’tthere juicy details where I’m concerned?” she asked. “But he rides a pretty badass motorcycle.”
“Yummy!” Diesel murmured.
They exchanged a few more lighthearted remarks before ending the call, leaving Nita alone with her thoughts once again.
The rain and wind intensified as the afternoon slipped into evening. It matched her mood.
She dropped onto the bed and opened her laptop, moving the computer windows side by side. One had Ryder’s mug shot, the other a black-and-white image they previously took at Cavendish for his security pass.
A spark of curiosity flickered into excitement. She knew she would have to navigate the complexities of this situation, having the enigmatic presence of Ryder in her life for the next two weeks. But she was also willingly creating her own Bermuda Triangle—Ryder possibly facing Luke at the derby practice. What would Luke do? Maybe nothing. Maybe he’d moved on from her. But the memory of Luke trying to intimidate her when she’d broken up with him outside the warehouse sped up her pulse. She didn’t want to admit he’d scared her away from the one love of her life, but he had.
The photos of Ryder on the laptop stared at her. Was it weak to recruit him as a bodyguard? Maybe.
She closed the laptop and rolled to her side, reaching for her Betty Boop figurine. She straightened the arms of the posable figure, putting them over Betty’s head and tilting the hands out in an “I’m here so deal with me,” kind of way.
“Give me strength, Ms. Boop,” she murmured to the doll.
Her resolve firmed. She had come a long way from the doubts and insecurities of the black year with Luke. She was stronger now, if not to face Luke, then to ask for help doing it.
She clenched Betty in her hand and rolled off the bed. Heading to her cheap suitcases, she unclasped the only expensive one—the small vintage Samsonite train case—and slipped the figure inside.
She jammed her laptop, power cord, and phone accessories into her shoulder bag, then scanned her apartment for any other last comfort things to bring. Despite her fantasy of living on the Cavendish estate, she was scared shitless at the thought of living with a man. She’d had probably a hundred casual relationships, but even Luke, with all his fucking mind games, hadn’t been able to convince her to move in with him.
“Jesus, that would have been a nightmare,” she murmured.
He convinced you of other embarrassing things,though,whispered a sly echo in her brain. Her hand impulsively slid to cover the tattoo over her breast. At least Max had found an artistic way to cover Luke’s name, fittingly with a snake.
She pushed that away. That was the past, and this was the future.An adventure,she amended to herself.
As she rode the rickety elevator to the lobby and trudged out into the rain-soaked world, she held onto the knowledge that she wasn’t alone. No matter what happened, she had her team; she had Diesel, and she had Kensley in her corner.
Her mind flitted to the vision of Ryder, trimmed beard and staring at her with his intense blue eyes.
No. Ryder was some random guy. A random hot guy, but a temporary guy.
As she unlocked the door of her shit box car, her phone buzzed.
“You coming or what?” demanded the man she had just labeled “Some Random Guy.”
13
