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Turning towards me, Ryder rewarded me with an indolent smirk. He really did remind me of a cat: a lazy, sprawling cat that expected the world to drop at its feet as nothing more than filthy peasants.

“But seriously, what’s your name, Kitten?”

Snorting at the nickname, I ignored him and turned back towards Asher.

“So, are we heading to get food and coffee or not? You can’t promise a girl food and renege – I have castrated boys for a lot less.”

“Wait?” Ryder interrupted. “She’s joining us for lunch?”

I frowned. “Wait? He’s joining us for lunch?”

“You can’t just copy me!”

“You can’t just copy me,” I mocked, lowering my voice to match Ryder’s husky tone. I admit that I took a few creative liberties in my impression of him.

“Stop it.”

“Stop it.”

“Seriously, Kitten.”

“Seriously, Kitten.”

“Stop-”

“Will you stop acting like a child, Ryder?” Asher exclaimed, sounding exasperated. Ryder opened his mouth and then closed it soundlessly. He pointed to me like a reprimanded schoolboy passing the blame.

I decided that I liked Asher a little bit more.

Poking Ryder in the ribs, I smirked at him. “Come onchild, let’s go get food.”

I hurried ahead of them before he could retort. As I turned the corner, I heard Ryder mutter something about “favoritism” and “breasts”. Oh well. Mama can’t help what she was born with.

* * *

We wentto a small café on the outskirts of the resort. Styled after a 70’s red-seated diner, Rosie’s House failed to mimic the opulence displayed elsewhere in the resort. I was honestly surprised that D.O.D. allowed such a normal place to exist in his “prestigious establishment” (his words).

I personally liked Rosie’s House, despite no one named Rosie actually working there. Maybe it was because my dad hated it. Maybe I went only as a big middle finger towards D.O.D. and Mommy Dearest.

I recognized the hostess as a young woman named Shannon. She spotted us immediately and batted her lashes at the two boys. Ryder straightened his spine. He was a lion that wasn’t just out for the hunt, but for the kill.

He leaned against the host podium, smile sly. “And what might your name be? Probably a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

I snorted, turning my face towards Asher to conceal my laughter.

The poor boy needed help. His skills were severely lacking. Fortunately for him, I had been told I was a great wingman (wingwoman?).

Schooling my features, I turned back towards Shannon and Ryder, the former of which was giggling and kicking her foot.

“So Ryder was telling me about his modeling gig,” I said cheerfully. Both Ryder’s and Asher’s eyebrows rose. I just winked. Something akin to understanding flickered across Ryder’s features.

“Well, I don’t want to brag…” he drawled, trying to act sheepish. I snorted yet again. Ryder didn’t seem to have a modest bone in his body. Yes, he was attractive, but did he have to let the entire world know that he knew? Okay, so maybe I was biased (because, for some reason, Ryder just seemed to piss me off), but he could’ve at least hadsomeclass.

I decided to up the ante, so to speak. Giving a shit-eating grin, I continued, “And tell her about your offer. Pro-football? What was the team again?” I batted my eyelashes, feigning ignorance. Behind me, Asher burst into laughter, though he quickly tried to mask it into a cough.

“I…um…” I imagined this was one of the few times that the great Ryder got flustered.

“You play football?” Shannon asked dreamily. “I only ever date football players.”