Page 40 of Grand Escape
“So, I can drive, yet chivalry isn’t dead?”
“Something like that.”
As soon as I was seated in the passenger seat, Rylan gunned it out of the driveway, her still-damp hair blowing in the wind. I tried to imagine the New York society women my brother dated showing up with wet hair and pulling off in an open-air Jeep.
Rylan glanced over at me. “What’s so funny over there?”
“Nothing, just ... you’re so carefree. My brother dates all these uppity women and is always trying to set me up. I can’t imagine him meeting you.”
As we sped along a two-lane road, I was grateful for the ride. Aside from the fact I didn’t know where I was going, I also wasn’t comfortable with driving on the wrong side of the road.
Rylan glanced at me. “Let me guess. It was one of those uppity ladies who broke your heart before you came down here?”
“What?” I raised my voice, due to both the road noise and the surprise at her question.
“When you got here, looking all despondent, you said that she would like me.”
“Becca. My dead sister. Not an uppity girlfriend,” I blurted without thinking. “I don’t have the same taste in women as my brother. Honestly, I don’t think any of his lady friends would have much in common with you.”
“Oh.”
“For the record, I meant that as a compliment. I didn’t mean to be crass. If I’m being honest, I don’t have a type, and I haven’t committed to someone in a long while. Becca’s death left me feeling like I couldn’t be the rock someone deserved. I’d failed my own sister, so how could I be a partner to someone?” I said, confessing more to Rylan than I had to my therapist. “Meeting you has blindsided me. I want to spend time with you and hear you and listen to you and spend more time.”
“On vacation,” Rylan said to clarify, her forehead creasing as she thought hard.
“Or beyond. I don’t want to pigeonhole you or us. I also don’t want to hold you back from your bohemian lifestyle or how you want to live or any of that.”
She glanced at me again. “Bohemian?”
“It’s just how I think of you, but nothing bad.”
“No, no ... it’s very good. I’ve never thought of myself that way, but it’s certainly the lifestyle I was aiming for. No titles or strings or airs, you know? So, thanks. For years, I was so-and-so’s daughter and the tennis player from Nowheresville. Now I’m simply me.”
We made a sharp turn onto a dirt driveway and sped through a set of open gates before Rylan brought the car to a stop in front of a huge house, surrounded by nothing but air and ocean for what felt like miles.
“You found that without a GPS.”
“I knew the address. There are only a few mega places like this around. When I first got here, I moonlighted for a chef, probably the one they’re using, and mixed drinks at this house and others.”
Suddenly, I realized how presumptuous I’d been, inviting Rylan to a party—one like where she used to be the hired help—and expecting her to feel comfortable.
“What?” she asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Is this okay?” I asked.
“If you’re asking if I know how to behave, I do.” She hopped out of the Jeep, not a care for her windblown hair or the dust kicked up around us.
“Ry.” I ran around the front and caught her in my arms. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know. Look, I know all about hanging with rich people. Blow-dry my hair and put some makeup and a gown on me, I’m just another rich girl spending Daddy’s money. I never wanted that for myself, though. It was too expected. I guess that’s why I chose to be unexpected ... or bohemian.”
“Come on, who likes expected?”
Gathering her in my arms, I placed a soft kiss on her lips, and the tension melted from her body. “Let’s go and have a drink, maybe some food, and then hit the road, okay?”
Begrudgingly, I released her and took her hand in mine. As we approached the door, Grant flung it open.
“Adam. Welcome to our humble abode.” He really was every eighties-movie rich-boy cliché. “And who is this? A friend?” He raised an eyebrow on the last word.