Chapter 26
Lord of the Shark Bikes
Ryder
What the fuck?
On the crowded sidewalk, I stopped to stare with the others who'd spotted the beast barreling toward us on Main Street.
The woman next to me – an older lady with a pink visor – asked, "Is that…a shark?"
Yes.
Yes, it was.
And it was a bike. Protruding from the front was a big, toothy shark face, complete with jagged teeth and large, predatory eyes.
To the woman I replied, "Well, it's no dolphin."
She frowned. "Got that right."
Riding the shark was a lanky blond guy with a bad spray tan and the biggest grin I'd ever seen.
I continued to watch, waiting for the bike to pass. It didn't. Instead, it screeched to a stop maybe a foot away, causing the visor lady to hop back with a little squeak.
But me? I stayed put. It would take more than a shark on wheels to scare me off. Plus, call me crazy, but I wanted a better look.
Silently, I took it in. The frame was bluish-gray with raised gills. The seat sported twin sharkish fins. And the kickstand was a mini-surfboard with a big bite missing.
Huh. Well, you didn't see that every day.
As for the rider, he looked like a surfer dude with money. With a smug grin, he said, "Well, well. Ryder Vaughn in the flesh."
I blinked. "Do I know you?"
He chuckled like I'd just said something funny. "What, you're pretending you don't?"
I had a good memory for faces. But this guy? I'd never seen him before in my life. I fought back a laugh. "I'm pretending something." Mostly, I was pretending that shark bikes were a daily thing. But let's be honest here. This was Bigfoot-in-a-bikini rare.
With a smirk, he replied, "Yeah, you're pretending you don't see it."
I glanced around. "See what?"
He patted the side of the bike like it was a prized thoroughbred. "This. Shark Attack."
"You mean the bike?" I gave it another once-over. "It'd be kind of hard to miss."
With a shark-like grin, he replied, "Yeah, but you missed out, didn't ya?"
He was off his rocker. Either that, or I was – because I was completely lost.
Or maybe my head was still too full of Tessa Sinclair. Even now, as the guy yammered on about this being his third ride around the island, I couldn't stop picturing Tessa's smile, that purple bottle, and the way she'd lit up when I'd tossed out that movie line.
She'd been gone for barely thirty minutes, and already, I wanted to see her light up again.
Instead, I was staring at a shark-riding stranger.
Out of the blue, he announced, "I call it Shark Bike."
I gave a solemn nod. "Good choice. I mean, you can't exactly call it Bunny Bike."
"Hah!" the guy said. "The Sharkster eats bunnies for breakfast."
It was so ridiculous, I laughed. "Yeah? And what about for lunch?"
"Laugh all you want," he said. "But we both know you're jealous."
If so, that was news to me. "I am?"
"Damn straight, you are." He gave the bike another pat. "This baby? It was reserved for a different VIP – a big secret name." He grinned. "But then, look who I spot a few blocks away, heading for Pickett's Pedals."
Pickett's what? It had to be a bike rental place, but I hadn't been anywhere near one. In fact, after hitting a few fudge shops, the only place I'd been heading was back to my suite to make a surprise acquisition.
And I didn't mean of real estate.
When I said nothing in reply, the guy asked, "Ring any bells?"
"Nope. No bells here."
His eyes gleamed as he leaned forward. "Sure, dude. But I was the one who got it, not you."
From a few feet away, the woman turned to the tourist next to her – a beefy guy in a blue shirt – and said, "I'm glad someone got it, because honestly? I'm a little confused."
The tourist replied, "If you think this is confusing, you should see what's going on at the coffee shop. It's like every man for himself in there."
That got my attention. "Wait, what coffee shop?"
The tourist hitched a thumb toward the place where Tessa worked. "That one."
I frowned. "So there's a problem?"
He snorted. "That's one word for it. It's so crazy, the customers are serving themselves. It's like Lord of the Flies in there."
I wasn't liking the sounds of that.
I was still eyeing the coffee shop when the shark rider called out, "Hey, Vaughn." When I turned to look, he smiled like we were suddenly best buddies. "No hard feelings, alright?"
My thoughts were still tangled up with Tessa. Absently, I replied, "About what?"
"Oh, come on. You're Ryder Vaughn, a mega VIP. It must be hard getting told no."
True, it wasn't a word I heard often, but I still had no idea what he meant. And I sure as hell didn't call myself a VIP.
Into my silence, he said, "But you can't win every time, right?" And with that, he pushed off like a guy leading a parade. Over his shoulder, he called back with a snicker, "Anyway, good luck with a regular bike."
He said "regular" like the bike in question would chew off my balls and spit them into traffic.
I just stood there, watching him go – but not for long. Shark or not, I had bigger fish to fry.
Apparently, there was some crisis at the coffee shop, and hell if I'd let Tessa face it alone.