“I’m getting certified,” he says with a shrug. “Shit, is it too late to sign up?”
“Yes,” I say, as behind me Joey says, “No.”
Ryan turns to him, flashing him that winning smile. “Hey, I’m Ryan. Nice to meet you.”
“Joey Ford, Volunteer Coordinator.” Joey shakes his hand. Two blond beach boys with curls and charm for days.
Goddamn it.
“You’re just in time,” Joey says. “All you gotta do is fill out the release for the FWC, and then we’re cookin’ with avocado oil.”
“Perfect,” Ryan replies, glancing down at the form. He screws up his eyes like he needs reading glasses. “Whoa, that’s a lot of fine print. Where do I sign, chief?”
“Just put your name here, phone number here, and address here,” says Joey, pointing at the blank spots on the form. “And then the John Hancock goes right here,” he adds, tapping the bottom of the form.
Ryan flashes me a smile and then starts filling out the form, dramatically turning his back as if it’s private information. “Don’t want you knowing where I live,” he teases.
I huff, turning away too. I don’t know why I’m so annoyed. It’s not like I wasn’t talking it up to him. We fell asleep last night with me walking through my to-do list for the day.
The truth is that I don’t think I am annoyed. In fact, I’m annoyed at myself for not being annoyed. I like that he’s here. I like that he’s smiling at me and flirting with me and following me like the sweet puppy that he is.
“Hey,” says the lanky Boy Scout with dark hair, eyes wide as he takes in Ryan. “Dude, you’re Ryan Langley. You’re like—awesome! I saw you play the Panthers last month over in Tampa. You got a goal and an assist.”
Ryan smiles at him, handing the clipboard over to Joey. “Yeah, that was a fun night. What’s your name?”
The kid stumbles all over himself in his rush to get closer. “Uhh—Tyler. My name’s Tyler.”
“And I’m Evan,” says Freckles, hurrying forward too.
Pretty soon, Ryan is surrounded by the Boy Scouts, laughing and taking selfies with them. All the volunteers inch closer, drawn by his charm. My stupid heart beats faster as he takes a picture between the cute, blonde college girls with a smile only for me.
“Okay,” I call after a minute, clapping my hands again. “We really need to get started. We don’t want to waste any of Ranger John’s valuable time.”
“Hey, Tess,” Ryan calls over at me, his arm still on the shoulder of the kid wearing the sea turtle shirt. “What kind of photos does a turtle take?” he asks with a big grin. “Shell-fies,” he replies before I can open my mouth.
I roll my eyes at his lame joke, but the kids crack up as he leads the way over to the pavilion.
“Let’s do this thing,” he says, giving me a flirty wink. “I’m turtle-y ready to go.”
“Oh, you’re shell-arious,” I deadpan, and he laughs out loud, sauntering off to take his place at the picnic table by Ranger John.
This is fine. He can have his little surprises and his punny jokes. I may be losing my heart to this blond hockey boy, but I’m not about to lose my head. Tess is still firmly in control.
48
Volunteer day was a huge success, mainly because Ryan stole the freaking show. He was so helpful. He kept all the kids interested and asked insightful questions of Ranger John. He carried equipment, assisted with demonstrations, and at the end of the afternoon, he had everyone pose in a picture that he posted to his Instagram account. The boys flipped when he handed them his phone and let them tag themselves in it.
Then Nancy and Cheryl invited the Out of the Net team out for appetizers and Ryan declared himself my plus one. The bar is packed for happy hour with live music set up in the front. The walls hum with vibrations as they do a cover of Prince’s “Nothing Compares to You.”
Meanwhile, Ryan and I are in the gender-neutral bathroom with the door locked, his hand pressed over my mouth, my back pressed up against the graffitied wall, as his dick pounds into my slick pussy. How we got here, I have no idea. I blame the chardonnay…okay, and the fact that I spent a whole afternoon with this handsome, attentive man looking at me like I was his sunrise.
Everyone else was there for the turtles. Ryan was there for me.
“Come for me,” he says, his breath hot in my ear as he holds me pinned to the wall.
I ride the high of this feeling. Life pulses just outside the door, a world of people laughing and drinking, oblivious to the fact that Ryan and I are locked in this room, bodies trembling as we chase our releases.