Page 21 of Head Over Heels
Penelope nodded. “Okay.”
Well, now she knew the truth, and it only cemented her original instincts. Time to move off him as a subject. “It’s settled, then. I’ll avoid him while I’m here and focus on doing my job.”
“Sounds like a solid plan,” Penelope said, her lips curving into a soft smile.
“Exactly.” Sophie put her head in her palms and sighed. “I can’t believe I’m stuck here for six months.”
“It’s not that bad. Look on the bright side, you get to see Maddie all the time. You can slow down and enjoy yourself.”
Sophie raised her head and sniffed. “I was enjoying myself just fine back home.”
Penelope’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know. Between work and traveling all over the city for your blog, you had to be getting burned out.”
Sophie shook her head. “This from the ultimate workaholic?”
Penelope shrugged. “I’m just saying after your parents’ last visit you seemed to go into hyperdrive and never shut off.”
Granted, her parents’ last visit had driven her crazy. All three of them trapped in her one-bedroom apartment. Their incessant going on about how her materialistic capitalism was a disappointment to them. Like her being successful and stable was a failure. But that had nothing to do with it.
“My blog really took off after they left. It was a coincidence and had nothing to do with them.” Sophie put her hand on her chest. “And I was having fun doing something I loved.”
“You weren’t getting tired of going to all those clubs?” Penelope asked.
“No! Why would I?” Yes, maybe it had been a bit manic sometimes, but she’d still loved her life. She’d been busy, too busy to think about anything but how much fun she’d been having.
Just the way she liked it.
* * *
Ryder managed to avoid Sophie for the next twenty-four hours, but as the afternoon grew to a close he couldn’t avoid the inevitable any longer. Somehow he didn’t think she’d be too happy if he surprised her, so he sighed, vowed to keep his hands off her, and knocked on the screen door.
She emerged from the back of the house, where the bedroom was located, looking as fuckable as ever in a pair of frayed, cut off jean shorts and a yellow tank top with the word “princess” sprawled across her chest in glittery pink letters. Her hair was coiled into a messy bun on the top of her head, with tendrils spilling out onto her neck and framing her face.
God help him.
He told himself not to engage her and to refer to her by name. Get in, get straight to the point, and get out. He gave her his most charming smile. “Hello, darlin’.”
Okay, so he had no self-control.
Arms crossed, she glared at him through the screen. “What do you want, dumplin’?”
He laughed. “Darlin’ is way better than dumplin’.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re so clueless.”
Oh, but he wasn’t, and that was the problem. She liked that one in particular. Her eyes flashed every time he said it. Not that he intended to mention that piece of information and risk starting down a path that would probably lead to sexual innuendo, and him pushing her against the wall and ravishing her mouth.
The walk to her bedroom was a little too short.
And she was a little too tempting.
He put his hand on the door handle. “Can I come in?”
“Why?” The question was laced with suspicion.
“Because I wanted to talk to you about tonight.”
“Tonight?”