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could he possibly want? Maybe there was something wrong with them. “I have to take this, but don’t leave,” he told Ryan.
    Ski put the phone to his ear and walked around the side of the building. “This better be important.”
    “Andrezj, don’t freak, everything is okay,” his cousin Joe said. The hushed tone and slow words were not a good thing. No conversation ended well when it began with don’t freak . “It’s your mom, there was a small accident.”

~»ΨΡ«~
    Chapter Seven
     
    Sam
    SAMANTHA WATCHED Ski walk away, leaving her alone with Ryan. Not that it was a hardship or anything. Ryan was good-looking. Great smile. Adorably disheveled hair. Not quite as good-looking as Ski— not that she was looking. It was just a passing thought.
    Ryan stepped down and sat on the porch steps, arms resting on his knees. The easy smile from earlier was gone, and before Ski had run off, Ryan looked like he’d been kicked in the— well, in a bad place by his best friend.
    “So, arranged marriage.” She moved and sat down across from him on the other side of the top step.
    “It’s not actually an arranged marriage. It’s a highly-suggested life course with the added bonus of a chosen bride.” He threw a hollow smile her way.
    “Does anyone still do that?”
    “When you’re building an empire, you do.”
    “That’s rough.” She couldn’t even imagine being told who to marry. “Who’s building the empire?”
    “My father.”
    She knew all about father problems. “I take it you don’t like your selected woman.”
    He shrugged, and dropped his head until it hung almost between his knees. “She’s a great friend, but she’s just not my type.”
    “What’s your type?”
    Ryan lifted his head and looked around, probably looking for Ski to save him from her questions. Not that she blamed him. She hated talking about herself, too. But something about the practically-betrothed Ryan interested her.
    Someone who joked so easily with Ski. Someone who so obviously pissed Ski off and got pissed off at his best friend, yet still sat here waiting. Not running. He definitely interested her.
    “I guess my type is someone who’s not afraid to have fun, no matter what anybody thinks. Someone who isn’t counting my money or social connections before they’ll even go out on a first date. Someone who just likes me— for me. What about you?”
    “Oh no, this isn’t about me.”
    “Come on. I showed you mine. You have to show me yours. It’s only fair.” He leaned back against the top step, grinning.
    “Okay.” She took a deep breath, and no, it wasn’t her imagination—Ryan didn’t check out her chest. Curious.
    She ran her finger over her tablet, stalling. “I want—” someone who will love me, will never let me down, will never leave. In other words, a fantasy. “—to be alone.” Hadn’t some famous actress said that?
    “Hmm… Alone. Sounds lonely.” Ryan’s nod only made her more aware she didn’t do this. She didn’t share. She didn’t talk about herself. Not like this. What-if’s were for dreamers, for girls who believed they were princesses and other romantic drivel encouraged by cartoons. That wasn’t her. She was a realist.
    “Not when you do it right.” Her eyes searched for Ski to save her from Ryan, from herself.
    “What’s the right way to be alone?”
    “Great friends. Great movies.” Occasional date with a good vibrator. She kept that last one to herself. Definitely TMI.
    “I’m surprised you’d choose to be alone. I’m surprised guys aren’t throwing themselves at you.”
    “Who says they’re not? I’m just not catching.”
    “That’s too bad,” he drawled, and his smirk made her wonder what she’d just revealed. “You might miss a really great guy.”
    “What? Like you?” She knew that’s not what he meant, but she figured she’d throw all of this back on him.
    “No.” He laughed. “Definitely not me.”
    “So, you’re not great.”
    “I’m a mess.