My mouth gapes open. “Why?”

“Situation exploration.”

I wrap the robe over my torso as I piece together what he’s saying. “What does that mean?”

“Wanted to understand the lay of the land.” Those ice blues meet me head on. In other words, he wanted to know why Jack has me here. But…

“He said I’m clumsy?” Ouch.

“He said he’d known you since you were ten. Something about you haven’t changed much since then. I guess you were tall at ten?”

Compared to others my age, I’ve always been gangly, but… “And he said I’m a klutz?”

A low chuckle rumbles from his massive, sculpted chest. The funny bits warranting a chuckle elude me.

“I’m going to get a shower,” I tell him as I rush to my bedroom haven. I need distance. “Won’t be long.”

“I’ll shower, too.”

“Oh, should I wait?” I pause in the doorway. “Think there’s enough hot?”

“Water? Don’t worry. I’ll be taking a cold one.”

CHAPTER 8

40 Hours Missing

Alex

When I exit my bedroom, one glance at Ryan confirms he likes cold, short showers. A stern expression joins those icy blue eyes to convey a high degree of annoyance. One lone plate sits on the table. He has presumably showered, dressed, cooked breakfast, and finished eating. For the second time in under twenty-four hours, I have forced him to wait.

“It might be cold now.” He returns his attention to his laptop.

I pick up the plate and down half the omelet in the course of four steps to the counter. I dump the rest into the trash, rinse the plate, set it in the dishwasher, and spin around while wiping my palms on my thighs.

“I’m ready,” I announce.

“Did you not eat?” His brow scrunches in bewilderment. Or the flex of his jaw combined with the wrinkled brow could portray an intensified annoyance. Ryan is rather difficult to read. My father trained me to pay attention to body language. Body language sometimes tells us more than words. Latency and pitch in tone of voice can also reveal so much. It’s a fascinating science, really, body language.

“I ate. It was good.”

“In under thirty seconds?” He’s become quite growly since showering.

“I’m a fast eater. You looked ready. I didn’t want to make you wait.” I cross my arms and glare at the man. You looked like you were going to scold me. What the hell else should I have done?

He says something under his breath that I can’t quite hear, but the tone further confirms my annoyance theory. He pauses at the doorway, waiting for me to pass through first. His annoyance raises my annoyance level, and by the time we’ve descended the stairs, my arms are crossed and I need to look anywhere else but at him.

When we arrive in the main house kitchen, Jack’s back is to us as he looks out over the pool and ocean. He gives no sign he hears us approach. His arms are crossed, and his shoulders curve inward. All my Ryan annoyance dissipates instantly.