Chapter 12
Almost Roadkill
Ryder
I didn't move. Not an inch.
Good thing the bike did – swerving, skidding, and somehow stopping just short of turning me into roadkill.
What the hell?
In a flash, I took in the rider – feminine, fast, and furious, with blonde hair and wide, frantic eyes – blue eyes that were all too familiar.
I blinked. Holy fuck.
It was her.
For half a second, the only sound was her breath, sharp and disbelieving, like she'd just spotted a ferret in her fridge. But then, her eyes narrowed as she asked, "Are you trying to die?"
I laughed. "No. Are you?"
Straddling the bike, she continued to glare. "What?"
"I'm just saying, you're the one aiming for pedestrians."
"Aiming?" she sputtered.
"Not good aiming," I clarified, spreading my arms wide. "You missed."
Judging from her face, she was already regretting it. "I only missed because I swerved."
I dropped my arms. "Still a miss."
"Not if I wasn't aiming. And you were the one standing in the road."
"I wasn't standing. I was crouching."
"You were not. I saw you."
Her outrage was adorable, and I couldn't help but smile. "Not soon enough."
She didn't smile back. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Wasn't it obvious? "You almost hit me."
Her voice rose. "Yeah, because you were standing in the middle of the freaking road."
This again? "Not standing. Crouching, like I said."
Her jaw flexed as she gritted out, "I saw what I saw."
I shrugged. "Eh, maybe."
"Maybe how?"
"You must've caught me on the upswing. Crouching first, standing second. And you already know the third part."
"What third part?"
"You almost running me over."
"Which was your fault, not mine. And why would you be 'crouching,' anyway?"
I held up my cellphone. "Because I dropped this."
When her only reply was a confused stare, I hitched a thumb behind me, indicating the horse and buggy waiting a few dozen paces away. "From that."
Her brow wrinkled. "So you're blaming the horse?"
I was no cowboy. Like a regular tourist, I'd been chilling in the buggy. "Did I mention a horse?"
"No," she grudgingly admitted.
I gave another shrug. "Well, there ya go."
She was still fuming – looking entirely too pretty for her own good. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were bright. And her lips were parted like she couldn't decide whether to keep breathing or chew my face off.
But what really got me was her hair, windblown and tousled like she'd just rolled out of bed – and not from sleeping.
As the silence stretched out, I had a sudden urge to thank her for the near-death experience.
But then she ruined it by asking in a snippy sort of way, "Were you following me?"
What? I let out a scoff. "Hey, I was here first."
Just then, a pack of bicycles shot past, barely missing us on either side. One of the riders – a big guy with a long, bushy beard – yelled back over his shoulder, "Hey! Get outta the road!"
I turned to my wheeled assassin. "I think he was talking to you."
She glanced down and gave a little start, as if suddenly realizing that she too was begging to be roadkill. She was technically on a bike, sure, but she wasn't exactly moving.
Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink as she lifted a foot to the nearest pedal like she was about to ride away.
But then, with a little huff, she got off the bike and walked it to the side of the road.
She kicked down the stand to keep it upright and turned to me with a no-nonsense look. "Well?"
I stayed put. "Well what?"
"You never answered my question." But when I opened my mouth to reply, she held up a finger. "Wait. First, get out of the road."
"So you're worried for my safety, huh?"
She gave me a look suggesting she'd already reached the end of her rope – the one she wanted to strangle me with. "I wouldn't put it that way."
"You can't take it back now," I teased. "Should I be flattered?"
She scoffed like I'd just said something ridiculous. "No."
Well, that was disappointing – and hilarious in a roundabout way. "Why not?"
"Because I'm not worried about you. I'm worried about the poor slob who's gonna hit you."
I still didn't move. "A slob? On a bike?"
She sighed. "It could be a kid, you know."
Now that was funny. "So…a kid who's a slob?"
"I never said that."
"Sure you did." Was I needling her?
Maybe a little. But in my own defense, she was the one who'd started it.
"Fine," she sighed. "Forget the kid. Just move off the road, okay?"
I strolled toward her, moving slow enough to make a point. I wasn't afraid of slobs, regardless of their size.
Immature?
Probably.
But there was something about Tessa Sinclair that made me feel about ten years younger and a lot less jaded.
When I reached her side, she gave me an expectant look. "So?"
"So, what?"
"Were you following me or what?"
Granted, she was beautiful. And I was intrigued. But I wasn't the stalker type. I barked out a laugh. "Trust me. If I were following you, you'd know."
I wasn't known for being subtle. Cocky?
Hell, yeah.
But I knew what I knew.
And right now? I knew that Tessa Sinclair wasn't jonesing for a hookup. Could I change her mind? Probably.
But the world was full of beautiful women, and this one was nothing but trouble.
Her mouth opened, closed, and opened again before she finally said, "I didn't mean following me like that." She hesitated, then tried again. "I just mean, why are you here?"
I held up my cell and gave it a little wave. "You do remember my phone, right?"
"I didn't mean on the road. I just meant…here on the island."
It was a funny question, but I didn't laugh. "Shouldn't I be here?" It was time to turn the tables. "Why are you here?"
I was genuinely curious. Tessa didn't know it, but she was the reason I'd dropped my phone. I'd spent most of the buggy ride skipping the sights to poke into her past.
I'd hit mostly the highlights – the master's from U of M, the picture-perfect career, and finally the crash-and-burn that had made her the talk of Chicago for about five minutes maybe a month ago.
But what really piqued my interest was that picture of her with that paramedic. I'd laughed so hard, my phone had gone flying – so I'd told the driver to halt while I'd dashed back to pluck it off the road.
And now, here we were.
Tessa frowned. "Wait…what am I doing here?"
"That was the question." Curious or not, I didn't really need the answer. I already knew why she was here.
She was hiding out – a mistake the way I saw it.
Me? I didn't hide from anything. It was part of my philosophy. You ride the storm, let people talk, and when they get bored, you walk away clean.
But then, Tessa surprised me by announcing, "I'm not afraid of you."
I laughed. "I wish I could say the same."
She stared. "What?"
"You tried to murder me, remember?"
"Hey! It's not like I pulled out a gun. And you were standing—"
"Crouching."
"Whatever." She gestured toward the horse and buggy. "And where were you going, anyway?"
I saw no reason to lie. "The airport."
"No, you weren't." She pointed vaguely toward the middle of the island. "The airport's that way." She crossed her arms and waited, like she'd just caught me in a lie.
Nope. "What, you've never heard of the scenic route?" I made a show of looking around, taking in the blossoming trees, the shimmering blue water, and the wildflowers scattered here and there.
Yeah, it was scenic. And yet, my eyes kept returning to Tessa.
She chewed on her lower lip. "But you are leaving?" Judging from her face, she wouldn't be sad to see me go. And for some reason that bothered me.
But why?
Curiosity? Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, I flashed her my cockiest grin. "Yeah, I'm leaving." I paused for half a beat before adding, "But that doesn't mean I won't be back."
And with that, I turned and began walking toward the buggy. As I moved, I could feel her eyes boring into my back, like she was daring me to sneak a final peek.
I didn't.
And five minutes later, when I was settled back in the buggy, I saw her again – flying past on that bike of hers, with her blonde hair streaming in the wind.
As she blew past me, she didn't even turn to look.
But me? I looked plenty until she disappeared around the next bend, leaving me staring after her.
Oh, yeah. I was intrigued, alright.
And I hadn't been lying. I would be back – and maybe sooner than I'd planned.