Page 93 of Female Fantasy
Every mannerism, every movement, is exactly like Ryke’s.
It’s honestly a little creepy.
He grins, his teeth white with elongated canines. Like he could drink from my wrist.
“Yep, I come here once a week. Truth? It’s my hidden gem. Best salads in Manhattan. And yes, I work a couple of blocks away at an environmental start-up called JUS. And yes, I’m meeting someone.”
You.
“You.”
I smile back at him, but somehow, it doesn’t reach my eyes.
That line would have readgreaton paper. But in person, it feels a bit…lackluster?
“So, how does a pretty girl like you know about my best-kept secret?”
He does a slow scan of my body, from the curve of my waist to the swell of my breasts. When his eyes land back on my face, those golden orbs are swirling with mischief.
I wait to feel my pulse quicken.
Instead, I feel nothing.
“I’m on an adventure,” I disclose, taking another sip.
“Is that right?” He runs a hand through his dark hair,mussing it slightly so that it falls perfectly into his face. “So mysterious, little Joon. But I’ll crack you soon enough.”
Little Joon.
He might as well have called me almighty Merriah.
But…Ryan Mare has no idea who I am. He has no idea I’m an avid reader ofA Tale of Salt Water & Secrets.I mean, I’ll tell him eventually.
Probably.
But this? This right here? It isn’t an act. This is just who Ryan Mare is. It’s uncanny. EGC captured him down to the very last detail.
I shiver.
“So, an environmental start-up, huh?” I break the tension with a question. Not that Ryan Mare noticed any tension. He’s shoveling forkfuls of salad into his mouth, that intense stare glued to me. “You planning on saving the world, Ryan?”
I keep my voice light, full of flirtation.
But Ryan Mare doesn’t pick up on that. Not at all.
“Absolutely,” he says earnestly, his golden eyes growing wilder. “There’s nothing I care more about than protecting our world, this planet we’ve been gifted. Where I come from, flooding and mudslides have ruined our land, destroying houses and tearing loved ones apart. I was eight years old when I lived through my first hurricane, which is why I’ve decided to dedicate my life to fighting acts of environmental terrorism, one rising water level at a time. That and puppies, of course.”
He wiggles his eyebrows at me.
And I sigh.
Because Ryan Mare is saying all the right things.
He’s perfect on paper.
But in real life? I feel like he’s doing a weird Prince of Atlantia impression or something.
As Ryan Mare continues to talk about the threat of climate change and how inhumane dog breeding is essentially a multilevel marketing scheme, I allow my mind to drift. I take in the size of him—the way his forearms flex, the dimples in his cheeks.
