Page 20 of Unlucky in Love
Ryan arched a brow. “Do you know who he is?”
“No,” she admitted.
“Then yes. Until we know otherwise, he’s a potential creep.”
The family howled with laughter again.
“Once a big brother, always a big brother,” Emma’s dad said.
Ryan held Taylor’s gaze, steady.
Taylor sighed, throwing her napkin on her plate. “Fine. But only because you’re unbearable.”
“Good,” Ryan said, sitting back with satisfaction. “We’ll go tomorrow during your lunch break.”
Emma leaned toward Taylor and whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear, “If the guy ends up being there and tries to kiss you, just have Ryan take pictures for posterity’s sake.”
“If some unknown creep tries to lay a big wet one on our Taylor, his fist will meet my face.” Ryan said it with deadly calm.
Taylor buried her face in her hands while the family roared with laughter, and Ryan bit back his own smile. Protective or not, he couldn’t deny one thing.
He was looking forward to tomorrow.
Chapter 7
Taylor
Taylor was halfway through reorganizing the pastry case for the afternoon rush when the café bell chimed. She glanced up, already rehearsing a greeting, but the words stuck in her throat.
Ryan Carter leaned against the counter with that infuriatingly calm smile, like he hadn’t thrown down a gauntlet in front of her entire extended family two nights ago. He was dressed in hiking boots, cargo pants, and a flannel rolled at the sleeves, a backpack slung easily over one shoulder.
Her heart gave a traitorous kick.
“You’re late,” she said, mostly to cover the way her palms went damp.
“It’s noon exactly,” he replied, glancing at the clock behind her. “And you’re stalling.”
She huffed. “I wasn’t stalling. I was working.”
Ryan tipped his head toward the door. “You ready?”
Taylor grabbed her jacket, feeling both cornered and oddly relieved. The truth was she had been thinking about this hike allmorning, nerves tangling with a fizz of excitement she refused to admit aloud. “Fine. Let’s go.”
The drive to the mountains took less than twenty minutes, but every second stretched. Ryan’s truck smelled faintly of leather and pine, and the hum of the engine filled the space between them. She stared out the window at the bare February trees whipping past, determined not to notice the way his hand rested casually on the gearshift, strong and steady.
“So,” he said after a while, “any theories on your secret admirer?”
Taylor crossed her arms. “Plenty. All of them bad.”
“Bad how?”
“Like maybe it’s a prank. Or maybe it’s someone who doesn’t actually know me at all and just got lucky with the clues.”
Ryan glanced at her, amused. “That’s what you’re going with? A lucky stalker?”
“I didn’t say stalker.”
“You thought it.” His grin tugged at her. “I still say I’m right. This is someone who knows you well. Too well. An unhinged stalker who has finally made his move.”
