Chapter 6 #2
“I rest my case.”
Ryder pressed his lips together, faux stern, and shook his head in disappointment. “I can’t believe you’d turn on me like this, Franny. I thought we had something special.”
Francesca giggled, blushing to the roots of her hair, and I suppressed an eye roll. Somehow he’d conned all these unsuspecting women into thinking he was some sort of sweet-tempered boy scout instead of the fire-breathing dragon I knew him to be. A gifted actor, indeed.
I turned to confront him once Francesca had finished up and left us alone. “Seriously, why are you such a sourpuss today? We haven’t even started filming yet, so there’s no way I could’ve annoyed you already.”
The smile that quirked his lips was blink-and-you’ll-miss-it quick, but I caught it. Maybe that was the key to unlocking Relaxed Ryder: teasing him out of his bad mood.
“Scowly sourpuss.” He shook his head, amused in spite of himself. “Your insults are creative, I’ll give you that.”
I refused to be deterred. “I saw you talking to Nate. Spill it.”
He seemed to debate leaving me hanging, but when I put my hands on my hips, he let out a beleaguered sigh. “I’m not happy about my costume,” he admitted.
I blinked at him. “You mean your bathing suit?” He nodded. “What’s it look like?”
When he demurred and glanced away, I perked all the way up. “Well, now you have to show me.”
“So you can make fun of me? Forget it.” The tips of his ears were tinged pink, and he refused to meet my eyes. He is really embarrassed about this.
“Come on, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” I taunted coyly, deploying my dimple.
His gaze swung back to me, his face lit in challenge, and now he’d perked up. Got him. “Fine, you go first.”
Ooh-kay. I untied the belt and slid the robe partway off my shoulders, feeling a bit like a flasher opening their trench coat, and shivered against the bite of the cool air.
It was a modest bathing suit by today’s standards, revealing only the slightest hint of skin, but the way Ryder’s teeth sank into his lower lip, eyes flaring as they flicked down my body, made me feel nearly naked. I think he likes the suit.
I felt his gaze like a touch as he dragged his eyes back to my face. “So you get to look hot and I get to look like a total jackass. That’s just great.”
Hot. The word zapped down my spine like electricity, tingling in my fingertips. My robe slipped a little farther and his eyes darted to my cleavage.
Or maybe—he likes me in the suit.
Goose bumps bloomed on my chest. “I’ll be the judge of that,” I tell him, my voice feeling rusted over. “Time to drop trou, mister.”
He started to loosen the belt of his robe, then hesitated. “You can’t laugh. I’m already self-conscious enough.”
I shrugged noncommittally, agreeing to nothing.
He unknotted his belt, and as soon as his robe fell open, a snort escaped. “Oh my.” I collapsed into giggles before I could stop myself. “Oh, Ryder.”
“This was the least offensive of the options they gave me, if you can believe it.”
Another laugh burst out of me, and I clapped a hand over my mouth.
His swim trunks—if you could call them that—were short and tight.
And I mean really tight. Truth be told, they were closer to briefs than a swimsuit.
Cut high on the leg, the dark blue stretchy knit fabric clung to his thighs and could barely contain his, er…
package. Every place I tried to rest my eyes felt indecent.
“I think this suit may push us into an R rating,” I managed between snickers.
“I tried to push back, but apparently this style is ‘historically accurate,’ ” he said with tight air quotes, the hollows of his cheeks rosy with embarrassment.
“They’re really not that bad,” I lied, eyeing the piping on the sides, the elastic belt with a metal buckle at the waistband. They are definitely that bad. “They’re…jaunty. Kind of sailor-ish.”
“I look like I’m wearing a diaper!”
I gurgled a laugh, then tried to disguise it as a cough. “Nah,” I told him, then paused. “Diapers are white.”
He speared me with a look. “I might as well be wearing a Speedo,” he grumbled. I almost pointed out that a Speedo wouldn’t be historically accurate, but decided to keep that bit of snark in the chamber for the moment. Not the time.
“And they’re wool, so everything itches,” he complained, shifting uncomfortably, and I felt my own face flush as I watched him adjust himself. I need to stop staring at his crotch.
“Well, your abs look great,” I offered, trying to throw him a lifeline.
And they did. Stacked like bricks one on top of the other, widening into broad, flat pectorals, strong shoulders, and a respectable amount of upper body musculature.
I knew he was leaner than he’d like, based on fitness-related conversations I’d overheard between him and Jason, but I failed to see much to be self-conscious about.
And while I couldn’t see his backside, I’d be willing to bet his ass looked great in these bun huggers.
“Nice try,” he huffed, tugging his robe closed with jerky movements, and my horny soul shed a tear. “I’ll be a laughingstock.”
“Oh stop it, you will not,” I countered. “You think all the girls buying tickets for this movie are gonna be mad about seeing a nearly nude Ryder Perry?”
“You laughed,” he said, retying the belt and stalking off.
“I was laughing with you, not at you!” I called at his back.
Sigh. Looked like I’d be getting Ragey Ryder after all.
Sprinting into the ocean was a shock to my system.
Ironically, taking a refreshing dip in the Atlantic would have been a welcome reprieve on just about any other sweltering Seafolly summer day, but with the cold air and even colder water, I was miserable.
On the first take, I had such a hard time disguising the shock on my face that Nate asked if I could try it again, “only this time don’t look like you’re in so much pain. ” Easier said than done, pal.
On our second take, Ryder flubbed his line, so I got out (again) and we reset.
And then he flubbed his line again.
And then a third time.
At first, I was understanding. The second try, still as patient as a saint. But by the fifth bungled take, I snapped.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” I hissed at him through chattering teeth. I was huddled in a towel, fruitlessly trying to warm up between takes while he sat there, dry as a bone. “Are you trying to give me hypothermia?”
His smile was cunning as he leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Not laughing now, are you?”