Ready or Not (The Love Game Book 4) by Elizabeth Hayley (i wanna iguana read aloud txt) 📗

“Shit!” I exclaimed, jolting to sit upright. “We’re late for our shift.”

Ransom patted my knee like I was a wayward Cocker Spaniel. I was surprised by how much I liked it.

“I texted Harry a while ago. Told him there was an emergency and we wouldn’t be in for our normal shift, but that I’d come in to work the after-hours program. He said it was no problem. He’ll cover for us.”

I groaned, both in frustration and relief. “I’ve never just not shown up to work before.” But I also didn’t feel like I was in the right mindset to be around kids.

“You didn’t. I texted.”

“At the last minute.”

“Harry knows we wouldn’t call out if it wasn’t important. He’s a good guy. It’ll be fine.”

Ransom cleared his throat and shifted, which made me feel like I wasn’t going to like whatever he said next.

“So, what did your dad say about all of this?”

Ugh. “Well…he didn’t say anything. Because I never told him.”

Ransom raised his eyebrows almost to his hairline. He opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off.

“I’m thirsty. You want something to drink?” I practically threw myself off the couch and headed for the kitchen.

“Taylor,” Ransom said from behind me.

Rounding the corner into my kitchen, I flicked on the light and scurried over to the fridge and looked inside.

“I have water and Sprite and these V8 juice things. They’re supposed to give you energy.”

“Taylor,” he said again, this time from the entryway to the kitchen.

“I could also make some coffee,” I said as I closed the fridge and began riffling through a cabinet. “Or tea! I think I have some tea in here somewhere.”

“Do I look like I drink tea?”

I side-eyed him. “I wasn’t aware someone had to look a certain way to like tea.”

“I feel like I have a solid Red Bull look.”

I wrinkled my face in disgust. “Do you also wear shirts with skulls on them and drive a monster truck?”

“Wouldn’t a monster truck owner drink Monster?”

I thought for a second before shaking my head. “Why are we having the dumbest conversation in history?”

“Because you don’t want to tell me why you haven’t told your dad about Brad.”

I really didn’t like Brad’s name coming from Ransom. It was like dousing my wholesome superhero in radioactive sludge. I also really didn’t want to explain myself so I said, “You know, I think monster truck drivers would drink Monster.”

Ransom turned to bonk his head on the wall and muttered something I couldn’t hear.

“Did I break you?” I asked. I was teasing, but part of me was also genuinely concerned. My drama was a lot to dump on anyone, let alone someone I’d known only a few months.

He straightened and faced me. “Nah. It would take way more than this to break me.”

We held gazes for a pregnant moment before I felt the need to look away. A small wave of what I could only describe as panic flared up. Not the horror show kind like Brad inspired, but the oh-my-God-I-want-to-climb-you-like-a-tree-in-my-kitchen-and-that’s-totally-inappropriate kind.

It was reckless at best to try to get involved with Ransom romantically while I had a whackjob following me around. He deserved more than a basket case who couldn’t stop looking over her shoulder. Dealing with all that might very well break him, and I liked Ransom just the way he was.

“So…your dad,” he said again.

Groaning, I flopped down dramatically, splaying my arms onto the counter and dropping my head on top of them.

“And the Oscar goes too…” he teased, the jerk.

I turned my head toward him but didn’t lift it. “In my defense, I tried to tell my dad almost two months ago.”

“Tried to?”

“Yeah. He called me a boy-crazed follower, so I left and moved into this place in a fit of petulant rage. We haven’t spoken since.”

“That’s…extreme.”

“It felt incredibly justified at the time.”

“And now?” he asked, looking genuinely curious.

“And now I think I probably should’ve thrown it in his face. Would’ve been much more gratifying to leave him wondering if I’d be abducted on my way home.”

Ransom scowled at me.

“Too soon?” I asked.

“It’ll always be too soon for that.”

“Sorry. I’m making inappropriate jokes to hide my discomfort.” And my fear, but I didn’t want to admit to that much. Not that he hadn’t already figured that out. I’d called him in the midst of a panic attack after all. The guy wasn’t just a pretty face.

He shook his head but didn’t comment on what I’d said. Instead, he gave me a look that made me feel like a schoolgirl who’d asked her teacher about the functionality of the rhythm method.

“You have to tell him, Taylor.”

“Honestly, I’d rather race the Iditarod with a sled pulled by Chihuahuas than have that conversation at this point.”

His lips twitched at the corners, but he schooled his features as he took two steps toward me and rested his forearms on the counter so he was more in line with where I was still draped.

“I’ll do whatever I can to help you, but I can’t be the only one who knows. If something happened…” He trailed off as he took a deep breath. The emotion on his face was almost jarring.

Ransom was scared for me. It was clear as day on his face, and I felt wholly unworthy of his concern but was thankful to have it nonetheless.

He cleared his throat before speaking again. “If something happened, your dad would probably be able to get things in motion a lot faster than some dudebro who works as a stripper. Please. You have to tell him.”

Letting a sharp yet brief exhale leave me, I stared at the way light stubble dotted his otherwise smooth skin, the intensity of his blue eyes, the hard set to his angular jaw. It was a lot to put on his shoulders, even if they looked strong enough to handle it. But more than that, I didn’t want to let him down. He was basically pleading with me to do