Page 224 of Better When Shared
“You must be Hui. Skylar mentions you often.” Ryker tilted his head and frowned. “Wait. What do you mean, surprised?”
Hui blinked, then laughed. “Thrilled, I meant to say.”
“Why didn’t Skylar tell us she’d invited both of us?” I asked.
“Who knows?” Hui said, eyeing his t-shirt. “Denver Fire. That makes you Ryker? And you must be Kiaan. My granddaughter has told me so much about you.”
“Has she?” I asked.
“Of course! Though not as much as I learned from my own research.” She patted my arm. “Very impressive, selling your company so young. Skylar mentioned you were successful, but she didn’t say billionaire successful.”
“Half-billionaire,” I corrected, then winced at how that sounded.
Ryker’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he grabbed both our bags and followed Hui to the parking lot, chatting with her like they were old friends. I trailed behind, trying to process what was happening.
When Hui had sent me a message, letting me know that Skylar wanted to invite me out to the island, and that she was tasked with helping with logistics, I’d jumped at the chance, too thrilled to question it.
Clearly, I should have questioned everything, including whether this visit was meant to be romantic in nature.
Hui led us to a well-maintained Prius with what appeared to be at least a dozen good-luck charms dangling from the rearview mirror. Ryker tossed our bags in the trunk and slipped into the passenger seat, leaving me the back.
As we pulled away from the harbor, Hui launched into a detailed history of San Juan Island, pointing out landmarks and peppering Ryker with questions about firefighting. Ryker answered each one with that earnest enthusiasm. How was he so unbothered by my presence while I was flipping out about his?
Turning to look out the window, I tried to force myself to focus on the scenery. The charming seaside town gave way to rolling farmland and forests. This island was beautiful, exactly as Skylar had described it. I tried to imagine her growing up here, climbing trees and sailing boats while I was locked in coding competitions and networking events in Silicon Valley.
“Ai ya! You must try the dumplings at my daughter’s coffee shop while you’re here,” Hui was saying to Ryker. “Bloom makes the best coffee, but I make the best dumplings. We have a good arrangement.”
“I’d love that, ma’am,” Ryker replied, the “ma’am” making me roll my eyes so hard I nearly strained something.
I slouched lower in my seat, watching the back of Ryker’s head. The casual ease with which he charmed Skylar’s grandmother grated on me. Meanwhile, I sat silent and sulking, mentally calculating how much of my romantic plan had just gone up in smoke.
The plan had been simple: I’d travel here to meet Skylar in person, something I’d been yearning to do for years. Then I’d whisk her away to a five-star dinner in Seattle via private helicopter, confess my feelings somewhere dramatic and exclusive, and fall madly in love.
I never imagined the possibility that Hui hadn’t told Skylar we were coming. Or that I’d have to compete with Mr. Perfect, who probably rescued puppies in his sleep and had dimples deep enough to dive into. Or maybe it wasn’t a competition at all. Maybe Skylar had invited us both, but just as friends.
Hui caught my eye in the rearview mirror, her expression unreadable. “Not long now,” she said, turning onto a gravel road. “Strawberry Creek Ranch is just ahead.”
I nodded, sitting up straighter and smoothing down my shirt. I hadn’t built a tech empire by giving up at the first obstacle. Game on.
Skylar had described the ranch in our late-night chats, and it looked the way I’d imagined it to, with beautiful pastures and wildflowers crowding the edges of the driveway. To the left, I saw the new horse barn, the one Skylar had laughed about as she told us that her friend Makai was terrified of horses.
And then I spotted her, standing near a big horse, feeding it a carrot.
My heart stuttered. Eight years of friendship, two years of increasingly explicit texts, countless hours imagining this moment, and there she was. Skylar Shen.
She was smaller than I’d pictured, more compact. I supposed I hadn’t judged her height right in photos. maybe because she seemed so formidable online. She wore ripped black jeans, a faded tech conference t-shirt, and titanium-framed glasses perched on her nose. Real. Tangible. Perfect.
She wasn’t alone. A tall Hawaiian guy with a man-bun stood beside her, and I had to assume he was Makai.
Makai was a lot fucking hotter than I’d pictured him, which sent me into a whole different panic spiral about the exact nature of their business relationship. They were with another man and woman, all laughing about something. Clients for their tour business, perhaps? They all turned to watch our car, the conversation pausing.
Hui parked and waved cheerfully through the windshield as she put her car in park. Ryker was already opening his door, all eager golden retriever energy. I took a deep breath, checked my reflection on my phone screen, and stepped out into the afternoon sun.
Skylar’s brows shot up. She stared at us—first at me, then Ryker, then back to me. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. No sound came out.
Eyes wide and panicked, Skylar turned and jogged off without saying hello.
I stood frozen beside the car, my carefully rehearsed greeting dying on my lips. This... was not in the plan. I glanced at Ryker, expecting him to look as shocked as I felt, but his expression was calm.
