Page 29 of Say Yes to the Nemesis
I open the sliding door to the rose garden.
Ryan’s standing by a column, looking at his phone. He’s out of his suit now, wearing a tank top and gray sweatpants. His body is big and solid, like always. I can see every line of his arms and back.
He’s lounging like a great cat, all slow confidence and dangerous smiles. It’s criminal how good he looks in sweatpants. I want to hate him. I do hate him. Just not enough.
As much as I despise it, I feel a jolt low in my belly. I clench my jaw.
This is not what I need right now.
The second I see him, I feel everything at once—relief, dread, that fluttery warning in my gut. Like stepping into shade and realizing you still might burn.
I step out and glance at the camera angled toward him. Ryan looks up, sees me, and turns. I press a finger to my lips, point to the camera, and slip around the corner to one of the blind spots.
He follows, his presence prickling across my skin.
He crosses his arms, cocky and relaxed. Like he owns the place. Unfortunately, he kind of does.
“Wow,” I say. “Summoning me like a villain. Very on-brand.”
He drags his eyes down my bare legs. A shiver runs through me.
“You showed up,” he says. “Must’ve missed me.”
“Maybe I was worried you’d do something dramatic. Like bang on my windows and scream my name.”
He grins. “Don’t tempt me, Chirp.”
I scowl. “I hate that nickname.”
“Yep. I know. But you can deal. You snuck out to see me. You’re on a show where I’m the prize, so as far as I’m concerned, you do what I say.”
I should lie. I should deny it. But the truth is clinging to my skin like humidity. I hate that he knows I’ll come when he calls. I hate that he might be the only person who sees me this clearly.
Everyone else makes me shrink. With Ryan, I snap back. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because he’s never let me be invisible. And I’m scared of how much I like that.
“Yeah, that’s always worked well. Expectations and me? Besties.”
“Well, you’re still here. I could’ve eliminated you.”
I cross my arms. He keeps looking at my chest, and my body—traitorous and evil—reacts. I swear, my nipples tighten under the thin fabric of my cami.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with you, Ryan. I thought you’d cut me immediately.”
“Where’s the fun in that? Now I get to watch you squirm on national TV.”
“Glad my suffering is so entertaining.”
“Oh, it’s more than entertaining. It’s the highlight of my day.”
“You’re really leaning into the whole bachelor villain thing, huh?”
He shrugs. “Only because you make it so easy. You’re the perfect storm. Sarcastic, hostile, and still blushing like I’m your first crush.”
“I’m not blushing.”
He taps my earlobe. “Looks like a blush to me.”
“I hate you.”
