Page 237 of Better When Shared
“No, you didn’t.”
Ryker grinned, not at all bashful. “I know you’re straight, so you probably don’t get it, but whew, the two of you together is like the ultimate fantasy.”
“Wait, you’re not straight?” I asked, my body heating in ways it shouldn’t have.
“Nah. I’m bi, maybe pan. More attracted to the person than the gender.”
I swallowed, trying not to let my brain process that insane information. I quickly changed the subject. “You know what drives me crazy? How fucking good you are at everything. The shelves, fixing the porch, probably saving lives daily. What do I bring to the table? Money. And she doesn’t even care about that.”
Ryker’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you serious right now? I’m just some himbo firefighter, not the intimidating one. Kiaan, you’re a literal tech genius who sold a company for half a billion dollars before thirty.”
“Bullshit. You’re a literal hero.”
“I may work in a heroic field, but you’re the brave one, the one who puts himself on the line. I’ve been in a million situations with you when you came up with some insane strategy no one had tried before that allowed our team to dominate.”
“That’s all video game bullshit, and it only ever works because you stockpile healing potions like a doomsday prepper. You saved my ass more times than I can remember.”
“That’s my point,” Ryker said, leaning forward, his eyes intent on mine. “We balance each other out. You leap without looking, I pack parachutes. Together, we’re unstoppable.”
Together. The word settled in my chest, warm and unexpected. I looked at him—really looked at him for the first time without the lens of competition. His eyes were the color of the ocean at sunset, flecks of gold catching light. The steady rise and fall of his chest.
“Maybe, but you’re what she needs. Building things Skylar needs, fixing her house, making her feel safe.” I swallowed hard, the realization crashing over me. “I think... maybe that’s why she likes you more.”
Ryker’s expression shifted, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “She doesn’t like me more. She’s known you longer, trusts you more. Half the coding shit she says flies right over my head.”
The bathroom felt smaller, the air between us charged with something I couldn’t name. Ryker’s knee was still pressed against mine, his hand resting on the tile floor inches from my thigh. I found myself hyperaware of every point of almost-contact between us.
“So why are we competing?” I asked, the question barely above a whisper. “If we balance each other out, if we’re better together—why can’t we figure this out together too?”
Ryker’s pupils dilated, the blue-green of his irises darkening. “What are you suggesting?”
Before I could answer—before I could even form a coherent thought—the front door of the cabin banged open. Footsteps approached the bathroom, and then Skylar’s voice called out.
“Hello? Guys? Where are you?”
Ryker and I exchanged panicked glances. “In here,” he called back. “Slight problem with the door.”
The bathroom door rattled, then shook. “Ryker? You in there?” Skylar’s voice called. “Hold on, I’m getting a secrewdriver.”
After a moment, the door swung open. Skylar stood frozen in the doorway, eyes widening as she took in the scene—Ryker in nothing but a low-slung towel, me in boxer-briefs, both of us sitting on her bathroom floor surrounded by pastry crumbs.
“What the actual fuck?” she asked, her cheeks flushing scarlet.
“The doorknob broke.” I shrugged lamely, knowing it definitely didn’t explain the way we were dressed. Or not dressed, as it were.
Her gaze darted between us and something hot and dark flashed in her eyes, something that made my pulse jump. Then her eyes widened, and she took a quick step back.
“I can’t—I have to—” She backed away, stumbling slightly. “Clients. Waiting outside. For a tour. I just came back for—never mind.”
She turned and fled, the front door slamming behind her moments later.
Ryker and I sat in stunned silence for several heartbeats.
“Did you see that?” he asked, standing and offering me his hand.
I took it, letting him pull me to my feet. His palm was warm and calloused against mine, his grip strong without being crushing. “See what?”
“The way she looked at us.” His voice dropped lower, a hint of gravel roughening the edges. “I don’t think she was disgusted or angry. I think she was turned on.”
