The Cinderella Society (21 page)

Paige pulled a clipboard off the wall that contained more detailed profiles of each target. She flipped some pages, nodded, flipped some more. A slow smile spread across her face. “You might be on to something.”

“Yeah?” My face broke into a grin. There was nothing a good math puzzle couldn’t fix.

Paige wrote
KEY PLAYERS
above the first column of people she’d lined up on the left. Next to that she wrote
KEY FRIENDS
and moved nearly a dozen targets to the new column.

“If you’re right, that means they’re definitely targeting the power positions first. Either directly targeting those people or targeting people close to them as a way of getting to them indirectly.” Paige beamed at me. “First day on the job and already putting the pieces together. Throw in a confirmation
of what they’re targeting Heather about, and you’ve got a game changer on your hands.”

*   *   *

By the time Thursday night rolled around, I was pretty far gone. I’d already done the new-Jess look twice—using two of my best outfits from the mall—and it hadn’t been enough to keep me out of the corner in Ryan’s life. If this was my last chance to cross the barrier of acceptance, I wasn’t going down without a fight. Instead of fun-feminine-sporty, I’d shake it up a little and go for fun-
flirty
-sporty.
Flirty
was just
feminine
kicked up a few notches.

The doorbell rang, and I heard Dad answer, the male voices drifting upstairs as I swept one last brush of powder over my cheeks and kissed my charm bracelet for good luck. I headed downstairs, and we made a quick escape when I saw Mom waddling forward for the Great Date Intercept. After the less-than-stellar first date and my Chunky Monkey woes, Mom wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of round two.

“You look amazing,” Ryan said, letting go of my hand to open the car door. “I didn’t plan anything fancy, though. Is miniature golf still okay?”

“Oh, this old thing,” I joked, trying to climb into his white Escape as gracefully as possible without showing off my new undies. Fine, Kyra’s flirty dress choice and two-inch wedge heels may have been a tad much for the occasion. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s great.” Ryan’s smile made it clear just how great. “But you don’t have to dress up on my account. I think you look great no matter what you wear.”

A nice sentiment, but I knew better. Even if he didn’t know it himself.

The Fun Zone Family Fun Park is crammed with
everything from go-karts to batting cages, arcade games to a miniature golf course complete with a two-story waterfall. It’s a couple towns over from Mt. Sterling, so I’d never been there before. The night wasn’t too buggy, which meant that every rug rat in the tri-county area had begged to come out for a night of fun. Not exactly romantic.

It turned out Ryan was every bit as competitive as me. Not in an out-for-blood way, but in a fun, teasing kind of way. By the sixth hole, the competition was fierce, and I had my game face on. “If you hit it up the left side, it’ll bounce off the clown’s nose and shoot through the tunnel in his arm,” I offered, as Ryan lined up his shot like Tiger Woods.

“And risk having it ricochet off the squirting flower on his suspenders?” He never took his eye off the ball. “Not a chance.”

He hit a graceful shot up the right side. The ball rebounded off the back wall, hit the bounce peg in the middle, and made a clean shot into the tunnel. We leaned over the edge of the clown’s bed and watched it shoot out the tunnel and straight for the—

“Hole in one!” Ryan shouted, thrusting his putter to the sky.

“Lucky shot.”

Ryan grinned. “Luck got me here with you tonight, so I’ll take it.” He helped me line up my shot, then stepped back. “I’d go a little more to the right if it were me. You may need to bend more so you can see straight up the clown’s nose.”

“I can see it fine.” But I leaned over a little more, because he was kinda right. The heels were a definite disadvantage. “Better?”

He paused long enough that I glanced up to find him totally checking me out.
Clown’s nose, my butt
.

Literally. That’s what he was checking out. (My butt, not the clown’s nose.) Fun-flirty-sporty? Score!

I opted for a banked shot that bounced around in the clown’s leg and wobbled out onto the green below. I putted it in for two.

“Thirteen to thirteen,” I said, picking my ball out of the cup. “Looks like we’re evenly matched.”

Ryan kissed the top of my head. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I was lining up my shot at the pirate-ship hole when I heard someone call Ryan’s name. I sighed and looked up, wondering who the intruder would be this time. For once, Ryan seemed genuinely pleased with the interruption.

The boy couldn’t have been more than twelve, but he already had the makings of a heartbreaker. Adorable dimples, a charmer of a grin, and the kind of lanky walk where you knew he’d just hit a growth spurt.

He and Ryan fake-boxed a few moves before Ryan scruffed up the kid’s hair. The boy looked back and forth between us. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were on a date.”

“Matt Taylor, meet Jess Parker.”

Matt ambled over and shook my hand, a firm handshake and good eye contact that would make him aces with a girl’s dad someday. “Nice to meet you, Jess. Is he treating you okay?” he asked, with a nod in Ryan’s direction. He rubbed his hands together. “I can rough him up for you if you need me to.”

“Save it for someone your own age, Romeo,” Ryan mocked. He gave Matt a joking punch on the arm. “This one’s taken.”

Faint. I feel faint
.

Matt pretended to be insulted, then grinned like the kid
he was. Oh, boy, the girls were going to love him in a few years. Although if they were half as boy crazy as I’d been they probably already did.

Ryan and Matt exchanged a few more playful barbs as the people behind us came up to wait their turn at our hole. We stepped aside to let them play through. Ryan and Matt leaned their heads together for a minute, did some kind of guy bump-bump-pop handshake thing, and Matt waved a friendly good-bye.

Ryan helped me off the tee area to give the other players more room. I leaned close to Ryan’s ear, his warm hunky scent filling my lungs. “He’s adorable. Is he your neighbor?”

Ryan kept his eye on the players, obviously trying to get tips on how to beat me on the hole. I wasn’t sure he’d even heard me until he bent down toward my ear. “I’m his mentor.”

“You’re a mentor?” Could he
be
any more Charming? “That’s awesome. Especially with school and football and working two jobs.”

Ryan shrugged off the compliment. “He’s a good kid—just has a rough home life. He’s an only child, so I’m more like a big brother.”

“Well, I think it’s really cool.” How many times had I wished for a big sister to talk to? Yet another reason I was grateful for Sarah Jane.

Ryan still wasn’t looking at me, so I turned his head. “You’re my hero, Ryan Steele.”

Big mistake. We’d been whispering, so our heads were close together. Now our faces were inches apart. His lips were so close I lost my breath, prayed he’d lean in. But one look in his eyes, at the pain there, and I knew something was wrong. His blue eyes pierced mine, and he closed them
before kissing me on the forehead. “You’re up, Equal Girl.”

It took a few more holes for the tension to ease. I’d never been more grateful for the easy banter and playful rivalry. The last thing I wanted to do was smack down the magic.

We ended up tying after twelve holes—25 to 25—which seemed a fitting end to the game. Ryan handed our clubs and balls to the attendant, then treated us to the massive Winner’s Circle sundae, a mountain of ice cream large enough to hide small children. Only on a date could you eat dessert before dinner and not feel the slightest bit guilty. Would the perks never end?

We opted for one sundae and two spoons and took it outside to the bench by the go-kart track. I had the bowl balanced on my lap, Ryan had his arm around my shoulder, and every few bites our spoons would click together. He had to lean in to me so he didn’t drip ice cream on my dress or his pants. It made my insides zing every time he did. Every time, like clockwork.

Tick, tock,
zing
. Tick, tock,
zing
.

If I were that kind of girl (and by
that kind of girl
I mean Fake Blondie), I would’ve ditched the sundae and pulled him into the bushes next to the parking lot. But of course, I’m the polar opposite of that kind of girl, so I kept the ice-cream bowl on my legs and suppressed shivers each time he leaned in.

When we reached the bottom of the huge bowl, we headed for the car to get to the lake before the hot-dog vendor closed up for the night. Not that I was hungry anymore, but an evening stroll by the lake with Ryan? Sign me up.

We’d parked near the road, and I stood unusually close to Ryan, hoping for a kiss before he deposited me in the car. Unfortunately, Ryan had better control than I had—or
didn’t feel the same urges I did—so I sat down feeling like I’d somehow failed a test. Should I have made the first move? Was the new Jess a first-move kind of girl?

He stepped back and swung the door closed as a dark blur shot past us, heading straight for the main road. I thought it was a dog, but before I’d even registered that it was a tiny rug rat, Ryan was sprinting after it.

Everything froze for a second, then seemed to go in slow motion. The little boy running through the grass next to the gravel road, the semi coming over the hill at the other end of the complex, the mother’s screams from the parking lot. Ryan trying to close the gap in time. I watched the disaster unfold like a movie. Fear paralyzed me, rooting my butt to the seat as the truck came barreling toward them.

The boy stumbled as he reached the gravel, the movement enough to catch the driver’s eye. The horn blared and the brakes squealed as the truck’s back end shuddered with the abrupt change in momentum. Ryan lunged to scoop his arms under the boy and yanked, pulling the boy to his chest as they tumbled sideways onto the grass. The truck swerved, spitting gravel up over them, and finally came to rest on the shoulder farther down.

Ryan lay on his back, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession. The boy looked into Ryan’s eyes, cheeks quivering, and promptly burst into hysterics. Ryan tucked him into his chest as he regained his breath, then pushed off the ground with one hand.

With that simple move, everything broke loose.

The driver jumped out of the truck and rushed over, two terrified parents descended on the grass, and a dozen bystanders mobbed Ryan and the boy. The boy’s mother clutched her son for dear life, crying as loudly as her kid,
while the father pumped Ryan’s hand until I thought it would fall off from sheer force. The mother grabbed Ryan’s arm and drew him into a crushing hug, nearly smothering the poor child in the process.

Mayhem ensued as people comforted the parents, scolded the driver (who hadn’t done anything wrong), and drew even more onlookers to the road. The scene amassed such a giant crowd I couldn’t even see Ryan anymore. Once again, he was surrounded by the adoring masses.

Tears streaked down my cheeks as I thought about what could’ve been. What would’ve been if I’d made the first move. Thank God for my uncertainty. All things for a reason, even if we couldn’t see it at the time.

I had just started wondering if I should go over or wait until things settled down when the driver’s-side door opened. Ryan ducked into the car and quietly closed the door, shaking his head firmly when I opened my mouth to speak. Not that any words would’ve come out anyway.

He backed out carefully and took the far exit. I didn’t fully realize what had happened until I saw the parents emerge from the throngs of people, looking everywhere.

Life was so tenuous, so fragile. Fifteen seconds could change a life forever. Ryan knew that better than anyone. The lives of those three people—a nameless mother, father, and little boy—were forever indebted to one person. A seventeen-year-old guy who’d slipped away like a shadow.

Ryan stared straight ahead and took back roads to the lake, never looking back and never saying a word.

Chapter 14

AFTER FINDING ONE LONE HOT-DOG CART
still open for business and loading up with ketchup and mustard, we wandered down the boardwalk skirting the lake. The sun dipped low on the horizon as we settled under a tree. I picked at my food, not because I was full from the ice cream—even though I was—but because neither of us had broached the topic hanging in the air.

I watched him polish off his second hot dog. Saving lives must make a person hungry. “That was pretty incredible,” I said. The ultimate understatement.

Ryan gazed out over the lake, seeming a million miles away. “It was … I don’t know what.”

I couldn’t imagine what it felt like to save the life of another human being. The rush of adrenaline, the relief. The what-ifs plagued my mind. What if the boy had run by an empty car instead of ours? What if we hadn’t seen him run by? What if Ryan hadn’t gotten there in time?

What if he’d leaned in for the kiss?

“You saved his life, Ryan.”

He stayed silent, eyes focused on the lake.

“You’re a—”

“Don’t,” he said sharply. He looked at me and softened, brushing my hair off my forehead in a way that was so intimate, and so sweet. “Right place, right time. I got lucky.”

Every time I thought I understood him, he mystified me. “Why do you downplay it? It’s not like you can hide from being a hero.”

“I’m not hiding from anything.” His anger snapped at me again. “And I don’t play the hero game.”

I thought about the agony in those parents’ faces, the joy when they had their son safely back in their arms. “Why can’t you just admit you did a good thing?”

He pulled me up to stand close to him. “I’m sorry. It’s a sore subject, okay? Let’s go for a walk.”

I gathered up our trash to pitch. Ryan slipped his hand in mine, linking our fingers together in the fit I’d so quickly grown accustomed to. I wondered if there was a guys’ equivalent to ISIS. If there was, it would be a sin if Ryan wasn’t destined for it.