Page 38 of The Scout

Then he made the smart choice.

"Whatever, man," he muttered, stepping back, his hands lifting like it wasn’t worth the fight. "Let’s go," he said to his friend, and just like that, they disappeared into the crowd.

Ryker exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders back before cutting his gaze to Sasha, who was smirking like she had orchestrated the whole thing.

Ryker and Sasha had not yet been formally introduced, but this wasn’t the time.

"I’m gonna get another drink," Sasha said, flicking her eyes between the two of us before slipping away, leaving Ryker and me alone.

I didn’t speak right away. Just stood there, hands on my hips.

"You’re unbelievable," I said finally, shaking my head.

Ryker took a step closer, crowding my space. "Yeah? And what the hell are you doing, Isabel?”

"Dancing," I shot back. “Like I said, having fun."

"With them?" He jerked his chin toward the guys who were already pretending none of this had happened.

I let out a sharp breath, my hands clenching at my sides. "What is your problem, Ryker?”

"My problem," he said, voice low, "is that you don’t know what kind of attention you attract when you dress like that."

I laughed, short and incredulous. "Dress like what?"

He dragged his gaze over me, slow and deliberate, watching as heat crept up my neck.

"You know what," he said.

"I’m allowed to dress however I want."

He tilted his head. "You think you are."

I narrowed my eyes. "Excuse me?"

He stepped even closer, close enough for me to catch the scent of whatever cologne he was wearing. It was intoxicating.

"You don’t get it, do you?" Ryker murmured, his voice dark, quiet. "You step out in a dress like this, and every single guy in here is thinking about what it would take to get you out of it."

"And you?" I asked softly. "Are you thinking about that, too?"

A muscle in his jaw ticked. "Every fucking second."

My exhale was shaky, my eyes locked onto his. Then, just as quickly, I straightened, smoothing my hands down the front of my dress.

"Well," I said lightly, "maybe that’s your problem."

Ryker gritted his teeth. “Isabel,” he warned.

I bit my lip. "If you don’t like it, you should probably stop watching."

That did it. He closed the space between us in a single step, towering over me, the low thrum of the music barely registering anymore.

"You think I watch you, Isabel?” A challenge.

I didn’t back down. "I know you do."

A slow, wicked smirk curved Ryker’s mouth. "Oh, sweetheart. Watching is the least of my problems."

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