Ryen’s amused eyes flash to me, immediately turning dark, because she clearly doesn’t want to eat anything Lady and the Tramp-style with me.
But she doesn’t back down or feign shyness. Walking up, she grabs a bar stool and steps up on the prongs to raise herself higher. She’s not short, but she’s definitely shorter than my six feet. Leaning in with her lips parted, she stares into my eyes, and my fucking heart is going wild. It takes everything I have not to unwind my arms and touch her.
But she stops. “I’m coming at you with my mouth open,” she points out. “You gotta show me you want it.”
And I can’t help it. The corner of my mouth lifts in a small smile.
Fuck, she’s sexy.
I didn’t expect that.
And I fold. I hold up the marshmallow and open my mouth, holding her eyes as we both lean in and take a bite, pausing a moment for Dane to take the picture. Her eyes lock on mine, and I can feel her breath on my lips as her chest rises and falls.
My body is on fire, and when she leans in farther to bite off a bit extra, her lip grazes mine, and I groan.
I pull away, swallowing the goddamn chunk whole. Damn.
She chews the bit of marshmallow, licking her lips and stepping down off the stool. “Thank you.”
I nod. I can feel Dane’s eyes on me, and I’m sure he knows something is wrong. I toss the skewer down on the bar and meet his eyes. He’s wearing a coy smile.
Fucktard.
Yeah, okay. I liked the marshmallow, Dane. I’d like to eat a dozen of them with her. Maybe I won’t rush home quite yet, okay?
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I take it out, seeing Annie’s name. I hit Ignore. She’s probably wondering where I am with her snacks. I’ll call her back in a minute.
“So…” Dane says. “All these pictures you’re posting on the page…you don’t have a boyfriend who’s going to come hunting us down, right?”
I tense. Ryen doesn’t have a boyfriend. She would’ve told me.
“Nah,” she replies. “He knows I can’t be tied down.”
Dane laughs, and I stand there, listening.
“No, I don’t have a boyfriend,” she finally answers seriously.
“I find that hard to believe—”
“And I’m not looking for one, either,” she cuts Dane off. “I had one once, and you have to bathe them and feed them and walk them…”
“So what happened?” Dane asks.
She shrugs. “I’d lowered my standards. Too low, apparently. After that, I got picky.”
“Does any man measure up?”
“One.” Her eyes dart to me and then back to Dane. “But I’ve never met him.”
One. Only one guy who measures up. Does she mean me?
My phone vibrates again, and I reach in my pocket, silencing it.
I glance up and see cameras flashing all over and spot people taking a pic in front of the graffiti wall to the right.
I step up and take her phone, surprising her. Walking around behind her, I turn on the camera, changing it to selfie mode, and lean down, capturing our faces on the screen. But I adjust it to also include the guy behind us taking a picture of two girls in front of the graffiti pictures. “A picture…”—I speak low in her ear, indicating our selfie— “of a picture” —I point to the guy behind us on the screen taking a pic— “of a picture.” And I gesture to the graffiti wall they’re standing in front of.
A smile finally breaks out on her face. “That’s clever. Thanks.”
And I click the pic, saving the moment forever.
Before pulling away and saying goodbye, I inhale her scent, frozen for a moment as I smile to myself.
You’re really going to hate me, Angel, when we finally do meet someday and you put all this together.
Ryen takes the phone and slowly walks away, looking back over her shoulder at me before disappearing in a throng of people.
And already I want her back.
I dig in my pocket and pull out my phone, dialing my sister. How much will she hate me if I ask her to go get her own snacks? I’m not sure I’m ready to leave yet, actually.
But when I call back, there’s no answer.
Punk 57 is currently available on Kindle Unlimited.
First and always, to the readers—so many of you have been there, sharing your excitement and showing your support, day in and day out, and I am so grateful for your continued excitement and trust. Thank you.
Nightfall (Devil’s Night #4) will be the final installment in the series.
Add Nightfall on Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2EC6sJA
Now on to the rest…
To my family—my husband and daughter put up with my crazy schedule, my candy wrappers, and my spacing off every time I think of a conversation, plot twist, or scene that just jumped into my head at the dinner table. You both really do put up with a lot, so thank you for your patience.
To Jane Dystel, my agent at Dystel, Goderich & Bourret LLC—there is absolutely no way I could ever give you up, so you’re stuck with me.
To the PenDragons—you’re my happy place on Facebook. Thanks for being the support system I need and for always being positive. And thank you for the playlist suggestions! It helps so much! And also to the hardworking admins, Adrienne Ambrose, Tabitha Russell, Kristi Grimes, Lee Tenaglia, Lydia McCall Cothran, and Tiffany Rhyne. I couldn’t do it without you.
To Vibeke Courtney—my indie editor who goes over every move I make with a fine-toothed comb. Thank you for teaching me how to write and laying it down straight.
To Kivrin Wilson—long live the quiet girls! We have the loudest minds.
To Milasy Mugnolo—who reads, always giving me that vote of confidence I need, and makes sure I have at least one person to talk to at a signing.
To Lisa Pantano Kane—you challenge me with the hard questions.
To Jodi Bibliophile—no cowboys. Got it. No pubic hair. Never. No condoms. Eh, sometimes. Eye rolling—welllllll, I tried. Thanks for reading and supporting, and thank you for your witty sense of humor and always making me smile.
To Lee Tenaglia—who makes such great art for the books. I’m so glad you love these devils as much as I do!
To all of the bloggers—there are too many to name, but I know who you are. I see the posts and the tags, and all the hard work you do. You spend your free time reading, reviewing, and promoting, and you do it for free. You are the life’s blood of the book world, and who knows what we would do without you. Thank you for your tireless efforts. You do it out of passion, which makes it all the more incredible.
To Jay Crownover, who always comes up to me at a signing and makes me talk. Thank you for reading my books and being one of my biggest peer supporters.
To Tabatha Vargo and Komal Petersen, who were the first authors to message me after my first release to tell me how much they loved Bully. I’ll never forget.
To T. Gephart, who takes the time to check on me and see if I need a shipment of “real” Aussie Tim Tams. (Always!) And to B.B. Reid for reading, sharing the ladies with me, and being my bouncing board. Can’t wait to climb inside your head. Wink-wink.
It’s validating to be recognized by your peers. Positivity is contagious, so thank you to my fellow authors for spreading the love.
To every author and aspiring author—thank you for the stories you’ve shared, many of which have made me a happy reader in search of a wonderful escape and a better writer, trying to live up to your standards. Write and create, and don’t ever stop. Your voice is important, and as long as it comes from your heart, it is right and good.