though with my luck, it wasn’t surprising to hear a car door slam and then, “Everything okay over there, Muggsy?” “Shit,” I sighed to myself. Straightening, I smoothed a hand down my sweater and over my hair. Still red-faced like I’d lost a slap contest, I turned to find all six feet, three and a half inches of Ryan Ralston staring at me. I barreled toward him, arms wide open. “It’s so damn good to see you.”
