Page 39 of Pretty Broken Doll

“Oh.” I squint up at him. “Do you need something from me?”

He crosses his arms, staring at me for a long moment before exhaling slowly. Something flickers in his eyes—an emotion I can’t quite place—before he mutters under his breath and kneels in front of me.

“What’s wrong, doll? And don’t tell me you’re fine because I haven’t had to fix a damn thing for you this week.”

My brows slam down as his palms settle on my thighs. “You… you’re mad at me for doing my job right?”

“I’m not—“ He inhales sharply. “I’m not mad. Just concerned you’re plotting something.”

I don’t know how to respond, so I shrug, dropping my gaze to play with a frayed hole in my hoodie pocket. His fingers flex on my legs before a hand moves to tilt my chin up.

“Tell me,” he demands roughly, intense eyes searching mine as warmth from his touch thaws the ice that’s taken residence under my skin. Like all I needed was his hands on me to melt.

“I just…” Biting my lip, I try to contain my words, but they spill out against my will, tangling together in one breath. “I hate camping, and I hate beer because it’s gross and makes me bloated, and I hate hunting. I don’t want to hurt things. I want to take care of them, but my dad makes me go every year because it’s what my grandpa did with him, and he thinks it’ll toughen me up or something, but all it does is make me wish I’d been born different, and I don’t even like meat anyway, and—“

“Hey.” He cuts me off by tugging off my hood, tangling his fingers into my messy waves. “Take a deep breath. Slow down, it’s alright.”

But it’s not. It’s not, because I am who I am, and I’m pretty sure my dad wishes I wasn’t. But instead of saying that, I nod, swallowing down the rest of my tangent while balling my fists in my sleeves. Ryann studies me for several seconds before standing abruptly.

“Come on.” He leans over to log me out of the computer. “Grab your bag, and let’s go.”

Uh, what?

“Go where?” I squeak, clearing my throat as he checks his pockets before locking up his office.

“Lunch.” Pausing briefly, he throws me a glance over his shoulder. “I’m taking my employee out as a reward for his performance. A work lunch.”

Ah…got it. Strictly professional. So that’s how he wants it between us, then.

Despite the sharp pang in my chest, I shoulder my backpack before following him to the elevator, where we descend to an underground parking garage that I didn’t even know existed. Apparently, I’ve been parking Mom’s car in the customer lot this whole time.

He leads me over to a sleek white electric car, cocking a brow over the hood at me when I scoff and roll my eyes.

“Figures you’d drive something this pretentious,” I mumble, glaring down at the passenger door because the handle is flush with the car. How the hell am I supposed to get in?

“If conserving energy and shrinking my carbon footprint is pretentious, so be it,” he bites back in response, sliding into the driver’s seat. The windows are so tinted that I can’t even see inside.

Standing there for a moment, I shift on my feet, waving a hand over the handle like a frickin’ magician. “Open sesame.”

Nothing happens, of course. Ryann leans over to open the door for me, lips twitching, but I avoid his gaze as I settle into the soft leather and put on my seat belt.

It’s a rare sunny November day when we exit the garage, shining so bright that I flip my hood up as Ryann slips on a pair of fancy sunglasses while steering one-handed. From the corner of my eye, I trace the lines of his inked forearm—thorny vines winding up from his wrist like veins, twisting and curling before disappearing beneath the sleeve of his suit jacket. I know the design stretches all the way to his elbow, forming roots of the Tree of Life that spreads across his bicep and shoulder. I want to ask when he got it, and why. But instead, I stare out the window, my mouth watering because damn, it’s impossible not to notice how ridiculously sexy he looks when he drives.

The silence is awkward as he takes us toward the coast, tension thick enough to make my stomach ache. After how he’s ignored me the past few days, I don’t even know how to act around him anymore. Last week, it felt easier—I knew where we stood, or at least I thought I did. Now, I’m just… confused. Does he still want to have sex with me? Or has he found someone else?

Bothered by the quiet, Ryann reaches out to turn up the radio as he navigates through Seattle traffic. An upbeat, melodic tune filters through the speakers. He taps his thumb against the steering wheel in time with the beat, mouthing the words. When he catches me staring, he cuts me a sideways glance, and I quickly turn toward the windshield, my cheeks heating. It feels like that night in August when I couldn’t take my eyes off him, only this time, he’s the one driving.

We play this game for a while—me stealing glances from under my hair and quickly looking away whenever our eyes meet. Eventually, a laugh escapes me, and his lips curve into a reluctant smile, the heaviness between us easing.

“Where are we going?” I ask, reaching out to change the station when the song ends, causing him to smack his lips in annoyance.

“A coffee shop I used to frequent when I needed to relax in college.”

“You get all the free coffee you want at work, but we’re going somewhere to pay for it?”

He rolls his eyes, glancing over his shoulder to switch lanes. “It’ll be worth it.”

I hope so because, truthfully, I’m not the biggest coffee fan. But I don’t tell him that as he steers us down a street lined with storefronts, their backs to the ocean. He pulls into a roadside parking spot, and I blink out the window at a charming blue shop framed by a picket fence and a cozy covered porch. A wide bay window sits next to the door, where several cats lounge and stretch on the sill, basking in the sun.