Page 26 of Rear View
My brow ticked up. “How they doin’?”
“Mom’s knee-deep in wedding stuff with Sheila and Dad’s just counting down to retirement.” A sly smirk pulled his mouth. “Sean got a job working for the government.”
“Yeah?” A member of the production crew wheeled a hose out and watered down the lot. “Doin’ what?”
“Information security analyst.”
Narrowing my stare, I asked, “The hell’s that?”
He crossed his arms over his chest, his smirk growing wider. “Keeping hackers out.”
I barked a laugh. “You’re shittin’ me.”
He shook his head.
Yara cut through the set and aimed our way. “Hey, jackasses!”
Alec chucked his chin at her. “What’re you doing here?”
“This was too awesome to miss.” Ducking down, she stuck her face through the window. “We still taking the snowmobiles out next weekend?”
Alec nodded. “I’m down for Saturday. Sheila’s been after me to get her out for a while now.”
They eyed me.
I shrugged, voice flat when I said, “Yeah. Sure.”
Yara’s face twisted. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothin’. Why?”
She flicked a finger at my face. “You’re a shitty liar.”
Alec adjusted the collar of his suit. “He’s still waiting on a call from Ryah.”
Blowing one of her short, black curls back from her face, Yara said, “Then call her.”
He snickered and ran a hand over his twists. “Idiot didn’t get her number.”
I flipped him off.
Yara rolled her eyes. “Just find her online.”
I shook my head. “I’m not stalkin’ the girl.”
Her gaze narrowed on me as if I was an idiot. “It’s not like you’re watching her through binoculars while she showers.” She nudged my shoulder. “It’s the internet. The whole concept is people being accessible.”
My hand twitched over my phone, my heart pulsing a mile a minute. I’d held back ’cause if Ryah wasn’t calling, I just figured she didn’t want to. But…what if she’d lost the paper?
I tapped the wheel.
Fuck it.
Bringing up my Instagram, I plugged in Ryah Nolan. No matching results. Alright. Something else, then. I hopped over to Facebook. Nothing. App after app I opened, the more nothing I found. I frowned deep. That couldn’t be right. I typed her into a general search engine. Digital goddamn crickets. Not a profile, a picture or even a reference. It was like she didn’t exist.
My chest constricted.You’re killing me, dream girl.
She probably had a boyfriend. The blond, preppy dick from the hospital, no doubt. Some educated guy who was actually in her league. Smart, and good-looking, with a punchable face. Someone who was going somewhere.Not that I wasn’t on the upswing, but my path hadn’t exactly been conventional. Or distinguished. I loved what I did; the speed, the rush. I liked being good at something. Still, I was an ex-con, for shit’s sake. Not that she knew that, but if she did, would she look at me different? Would she look at me at all?
