Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
noia
“You know what?” Struck with inspiration, I sit up. “I’m starving and I really need to get out of this house before I lose my mind. There’s this cute little diner right across the street from Ryder’s tattoo shop. We could grab some breakfast.”
Sasha’s face lights up with mischief. “You want to do a reconnaissance mission on your fictional-turned-real boyfriend’s tattoo parlor? I’m one hundred percent in.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” But my protest comes out weak.
“Honey, the man carried you over his shoulder like a caveman. Sounds like boyfriend territory to me.” She turns to head upstairs. “Besides, I want to see the place where all the magic happens.”
“The magic happens here,” I correct her, then immediately blush when I realize how that sounds.
“I mean his tattoo magic,” she snickers down at me from the top step. “But clearly your mind is elsewhere. Give me five minutes to finish getting ready.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re in Sasha’s car heading toward town. I direct her through the winding roads until we reach Main Street, where most of the small businesses are clustered together.
“That’s it,” I say, pointing at the building to my right. “And the diner is just there, across the street.”
Sasha pulls into a parking spot in front of the diner and cuts the engine. “Perfect location for spying.”
“We’re not spying,” I insist, my stomach fluttering with nervous excitement. “We’re just... having breakfast in a strategic location.”
Rise & Dine is exactly what you’d expect—red and white checkered floors, black vinyl booths, with the smell of coffee and waffles saturating the air. We grab a front booth by the window that provides a clear view of Skin & Ink Tattoo.
“So that’s where he works,” Sasha muses. “It looks... nice.”
“What did you expect? Some little shop in a seedy back-alley with a flashing neon sign?”
“Kind of, yeah,” she admits with a laugh. “Given how you described him as broody and dangerous.”
A waitress comes over and hands us menus. “Morning, ladies. Welcome to Rise & Dine. What can I get you?”
After we both order the Belgian waffle special, I steal a glance across the street.
“You know, it’s so weird. Even though I’m the one who thought him up, he’s got this whole other life now that has nothing to do with me,” I say, stirring cream into my coffee. “Friends, a business, clients who know and trust him.”
“That’s what makes this all so fascinating.” Sasha leans forward, resting her arms on the table. “He’s becoming real in every sense of the word. Pun intended,” she grins and I roll my eyes.
“You know how he’s been taking me on day dates for inspiration?”
“Yeah.”
“He took me for a ride on his motorcycle up the coast to this little seafood place. It was...” I pause, searching for the right words. “It was actually perfect.”
Sasha leans back, looking impressed. “Damn, girl. That’s romantic as hell.”
“I know. And that’s what makes me nervous. It’s like he understands exactly what I need, sometimes even before I do.” I stare out the window. “Each date is designed to push me just far enough out of my comfort zone that I feel... inspired to write.”
“And that’s bad because...?”
“Because what if this is temporary? What if once I finish my book, he just... goes poof?” My voice drops to a strangled whisper. “I don’t think I could handle that, Sash.”
She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “Has there been any indication he’s becoming less real?”
“No, the opposite, actually. First his truck shows up, then his clothes, now his motorcycle…” I wave at the building across the street. “…the tattoo shop.” I take a deep breath. “His past is starting to fill in too—memories, friends, his whole life story.”
“Then stop worrying about the future and just enjoy what’s happening now.”
“Also, Goonie has all but abandoned me for him. And yesterday, Ryder didn’t look so good. Almost like he hadn’t slept in days.”
Sasha taps her fingers thoughtfully against her coffee mug. “Maybe he had a nightmare? PTSD is a big part of his backstory, right?”
Guilt washes over me as I nod slowly. “I didn’t even think about that. God, I’m so selfish! I’ve been so focused on my own issues, I didn’t even think to consider that as a factor.”
“Hey, this whole situation is uncharted territory for both of you. Cut yourself some slack.” She tilts her head. “Cats are very intuitive, you know. Maybe Goonie is picking up on what he’s feeling.”
“Yeah. I think you could be right.”
Our food arrives, and I cut into my waffle.
“What’s our plan for getting ready for tonight?” Sasha asks around a mouthful of food. “This party tonight sounds like a big deal.”
“I’m nervous,” I confess. “Meeting all his friends and colleagues is a big deal.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be there for moral support.”
“You just want to see if Ryder has any hot friends.”
“Possible bonus,” she grins, then her expression sobers. “But seriously, I’m glad this is happening. The universe picked up on what you needed and literally made it appear.”
After paying the bill, we head out into the crisp morning air. When we reach the car, Sasha grabs my arm.
“Wait a minute.” Her eyes light up with a dangerous gleam I know all too well. “We can’t go to this party without proper ammunition.”
“Ammunition?” I raise an eyebrow. “What kind are you talkin’?”
“You said you wanted to up the ante on his slow-burn game, right?” She waggles her eyebrows and jingles her keys. “We need to go shopping. Get you something that’ll make his eyes pop out of their sockets.”
“Sasha—”
“I saw this boutique a few blocks back.” She looks at me over the hood as she unlocks the car. “The window display had this little black dress that would look phenomenal on you.”
“I don’t need a new dress,” I protest weakly as I climb into the passenger seat.
“Oh, honey,” she laughs, starting the engine. “This isn’t about need. This is about psychological warfare—and we’re going to make sure you’re armed with something nuclear.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m in a dressing room surrounded by dozens of rejects. Still, Sasha keeps passing more options over the door, each one skimpier than the last.
“Try the red one next,” she says through the door. “Red is the color of passion. And revenge.”
“I’m not trying to get revenge,” I mutter, but slip it on anyway.
When I step out, Sasha’s jaw drops. “Holy shit. That’s the one.”
The deep crimson dress hugs every curve, ending mid-thigh. The neckline dips just low enough to show a good amount of cleavage, while the back features a large diamond cutout that exposes most of my spine.
“It’s... a lot,” I say, running my hands down the silky fabric.
“It’s fucking perfect,” Sasha corrects. “You look like sex on legs. He’ll take one look at you in this and completely forget about any kind of slow-burn and jump straight into shoving his hands up your dress and into your panties.”
I bite my lip, considering.
“We’re getting it.” She crosses her arms and gives me a quick, decisive nod. “And those black strappy heels we saw in the window.”
By the time we leave the boutique, I’m the proud owner of not just the skimpy red dress and heels, but a matching set of black lace lingerie Sasha insisted was ‘essential battle gear.’
For the rest of the afternoon we veg out in front of the TV with Goonie, watching movies and eating snacks.
Just after five o’clock, I get a text.
RYDER: Change of plans. Need to stay at The Brew to help finish setting up. Party starts at 8. Meet me here?
I hold the phone up for Sasha to see. “Looks like we’re meeting him there instead.”
“Perfect!” Sasha claps her hands together. “Plenty of time to get you looking even more irresistible.”
I text back a quick ‘That’s fine’ before tossing my phone aside.
Suddenly nervous, I mutter, “I’m starting to rethink this whole dress situation.”
“No way.” Sasha grabs my arm and pulls me off the couch. “You’re wearing that dress, and it’s going to make him regret this entire slow-burn thing.”
Two hours later, I barely recognize myself.
The dress makes my waist look tiny and my hips deliciously full.
Sasha has worked her magic on my hair, styling it in loose waves that cascade down my back, and my makeup—dark smoky eyes and deep red lips to match the dress—is sultrier than anything I would normally wear.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, smoothing my hands down my hips.
“I know, right?” Sasha appears behind me. Hair down, she looks stunning in a short black dress with a plunging neckline, and a silver pair of heels. “We look hot as hell.”
I look at the clock and realize it’s five minutes to eight. Guess we took a little more time getting ready than we planned.
My phone buzzes again.
RYDER: You on your way?
“We’re running late and he’s getting impatient,” I say, feeling a flutter of anticipation in my stomach.
“Good. Let him wait.” She grabs her purse and tosses me a small tube of lipstick. “For touch-ups. You’re going to need it after he sees you in that dress.”
At 8:05, we’re climbing into Sasha’s car.
“Ready?” she asks, eyes gleaming with mischief.
I let out a shaky breath. “God, I hope so.”
With the way Sasha drives, it takes less than fifteen minutes to get to town, but it still feels like forever.
The Brew looks completely transformed when we pull up. Strings of twinkling lights hang over the entrance, and I can see a crowd already starting to form inside.
“Deep breath,” Sasha says, squeezing my hand as we walk toward the door. “Remember, you’re the ‘Queen of Steam.’ You can do this.”
The moment we step inside, the energy hits me hard. The music is loud, the bass is thumping, and the space is packed with people—most of whom are heavily tattooed.
“Now we just need to find your man,” Sasha shouts over the music as she scans the crowd.
I spot him before she does. Standing at the bar, he’s wearing dark jeans and a tight black T-shirt, talking to a woman with vibrant purple hair. Even from across the room, his presence is magnetic.
Then, just like in the movies, he turns in slow motion, eyes darting around the room until his eyes land on me.