Puta, spit it out and quit toying with me.
He accidentally booked…
Always the fuckingsuspense with you. Jesus Cristo.
A pole dance class. And it was really fucking hot.
My coochie is SCREAMING!!! Ring, ring, ring! It’s your ovaries calling! They’re telling you to let that man slide on in.
I’m afraid you’re forgetting what this really is… But also… Would it be so bad? If I did give in??? Ugh. So hard to resist, especially after that lap dance.
LAP DANCE? You said POLE dance! When did the lap dance happen?!?!
End of class, Ryder volunteered us to be the example for the class on a little chair routine. Except, it turned into a not so little lap dance, with Ryder making good use of his namesake, GO, RANCH DADDY, GO! Yeehaw, little doggy!
“Ranch daddy?” I hear Ryder call from the kitchen. My head is on a swivel, and my heart plummets. Is he monitoring me like Russ had been? “I got a text from Mayte that says, ‘Yeehaw, Ranch Daddy,’ followed by a GIF of a muscular bottle of ranch riding a horse. Is there something I’m missing?”
My shoulders shake with laughter, and my heart climbs back into my chest cavity.Of course, he doesn’t have my phone tapped. “She’s a tyrant,” I confirm.
He takes a seat beside me on the couch, stretching out his long legs in the gray sweatpants he’s now wearing.
Facing me, he quirks a brow and asks, “If I’m Ranch Daddy, does that make you RanchMami?”
“Definitely not, and don’t repeat that to anyone else,” I tease.
Ryder smirks, shifting closer to me, his gaze flicking across my face. “Ranch is my favorite dressing.”
Because it’s creamy and delicious just like…?Nope, definitely don’t say that out loud.
The doorbell rings, saving the day.
We decide to watch something on cable that neither of us is really paying much attention to, and when I open the pizza box to pull out a slice, my jaw nearly drops.
A white pizza with ricotta and hot honey. Myfavorite.
“How’d you remember?” I ask, my eyes swinging to his.
“I remember just about everything when it comes to you, Lola.”
I swear, if he keeps on like this, I might combust.
To make matters worse, he picks up a slice of his own and dunks it in a cup ofranch.
This man hasno rightto make salad dressing erotic.No fucking right.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
CAUGHT OFF GUARD
FRIDAY, MAY 30
Lola’s lyingbeside me on the couch, her eyes closed and her breathing relaxed. I cover her with the throw blanket from the back of the couch and flip through channels.
I land on a local news station and sit back, propping my feet up on the coffee table.
They talk about a group of Girl Scouts who outperformed every other troop in the state, then about something going on in the school system, and I’ve officially lost interest. Instead, I sit beside Lola, watching her sleep, feeling like a total creep, but I can’t keep my eyes off her. I wish I could curl up behind her and hold her in my arms.
Minutes that feel like hours pass, and when she rolls over, I’ve officially decided it's time to head to bed. I grab the remote, ready to turn off the TV, when a new headline pops up.
