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“Shut up and get out before I let Brick play tour guide.”
“I saw her first,” Ryder chuckled as he headed for the door and the sexy college professor in tight jeans and a sweet concert tee.
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Jenna
The loft where Ryder left me was a big open space with scattered desks and filing cabinets, but it didn’t look like it belonged to any specific person. It looked like it was used by whoever for whatever.
Gate’s office was different, more personal. Private. But still with the black walls and no windows. So the private was extreme.
Masculine laughter came from Gate’s office, and I wondered what they were joking about. Ryder didn’t look like he laughed much.
Gate looked like he had a good sense of humor, or at least enjoyed what life had to offer. No wedding ring and no tan line, but he had a photo of a couple of teenagers that looked enough like him that they had to be his kids. A girl and a boy. So I wondered what happened there, but I wasn’t sure Gate would put himself on my interview schedule.
Maybe I didn’t even have one. He’d told me to meet people and ask questions.
Freedom.Questions branched out into paragraphs that branched out into separate headings, and the project grew by leaps and bounds in my head.
I couldn’t believe Gate was letting me do this, but I’d take it, say thanks, and never look back.
The door closed with a soft click, and I turned around.
And looked up.
Into the darkest eyes I’d ever seen. They were so dark brown, they looked almost black.
Ryder.
His shoulder-length hair matched his name, wild and carefree. He was tall. I’d put him at a couple inches over six feet. And he wasbuilt.
I couldn’t see any tattoos, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t have them under his tee. Or under his jeans.God.He had to have a club tatt somewhere.
He watched my inspection without a word.
Blush hit my cheeks.
He noticed.
Then he grinned.
“Looking for ink?” he asked.
“Yeah. Sorry. Kind of a habit,” I admitted.
“I’ve got it. Just selective about where I put it,” he said, studying me right back.
“I totally get that. I would be too.”
“You got any?”
“Not yet,” I said, thinking how I’d always wanted a tattoo, something sweet and sassy, but Edward hated the idea. And then I was a single mom responsible for carving out a life for me and Cass, and I never got around to it.
The itch was still there though.
“Thinking about it?”
“Just can’t decide what to get. Or what to decorate.”
