Page 11 of Wicked

She giggles. “Never mind. Talk to you later. Gotcha. Cool. Bye, Ryker.”

She follows her mom and older sister, AKA Red Riding Hood, to the car. Shaking my head, I walk Harper and April to Harper’s ride. These kids . . . Harper hits the key fob. April opens the car door and gets in the front passenger seat. I follow close on Harper’s heels to the driver’s side door like a dog in search of its owner’s approval and attention.

“When can I see you again?” I cram my hands in my pants pockets and rock on my heels. Never have I asked a girl that question. It’s usually the other way around.

“Next Wednesday. Skating rink.”

No go. I lean in close, fully understanding how I caneasethe heat in my groin at not seeing her again for a week.

“Are you telling me your fridge is fully stocked?”

She wears down her bottom lip. Taking her out for breakfast, lunch, and dinner isn’t in the deal anymore. She took that off the metaphorical table yesterday, in the parking lot of the skating rink. The only leverage I have is a stocked fridge.

I yank out my cell from my back pocket. “What’s your number? You can text me a screen shot of your grocery list.”

“Or I can scribble a few items on a piece of junk mail from my glove compartment.”

“Harper.”

“Fine, but don’t you”—she bends forward, her breath hot on my ear—“don’t you dare send me a dick pic or think it’s okay to text me you’rethirstyany time after midnight.”

She rattles off her cell number. I punch them into my contacts.

“Thirsty? Hmm, is that code for a booty call?” I rub my chin. Fuck’s sake, I can’t believe I said the B word.

She stares at my beard. It’s a piece of me she avoids looking at for too long. I get it. My beard turns her on. I’m feeling the same about her hair. I try not to give the thick, long, heavenly onyx pieces much attention.

“You know full well it is, Ryker Conway. You’re a bona fide douchebag.”

And that right there gives me an excuse to send her dirty texts sans dick pic. I don’t send out a mug shot of my randy beast no matter how special the girl is.

“Ouch.” I knead the spot over my heart and tuck my cell back in my pocket. “That stung.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

I bark laughter. No girl’s called me out for being over the top. They’re too concerned with getting me on top or below them for a banging good time.

“Or a dick, right? Triple D at your service.” I edge back and mockingly bow.

“I should go.” Slight smile from her. Small hand on the door handle. “Remember, nothing dirty. Otherwise, I’ll block you.”

Holding back my grin, I bend at the waist again. “I wouldn’t want to see you starve, milady.”

The words are out of my mouth, and I want to kick myself in the ass for acting like a cheesy dickwad. But you see, there’s this strange fluttering in my chest, and it grows when she shakes her head and laughs.

“You’re something else. Bye, Ryker.”

She gets in the car, and waving, she drives off.

Watching her, I pull out my cell and make an important call.

Harper’s right. I’m here on scholarships. But merit is separate from money. Contrary to what’s spoken about me on and off campus, I don’t randomly nail and bail. I’m selective. No way in hell will I let into my life a girl who can destroy what my parents worked hard for.

“Ryker, how’s it going?”

“I’m good, Ken. How’s the family?”

“Swell. The youngest starts kindergarten in a week. The misses is in a tailspin, the baby not a baby anymore kind of thing.”

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