Chapter 2
Ryder Kristoff
I bet she showed off that backside of hers in black leggings all the time.
Nicole Steel. I looked up her webpage. There she was, with her brown hair and brown eyes and that pert chin with that oh-so-American smile of hers. The bright toothy grin that made it seem like she’d always be in a good mood, from first thing in the morning till late at night, bubbling over with the optimistic, life-is-wonderful attitude of that blog of hers.
If I hadn’t just gotten married and divorced in the first twenty-four hours of being in Vegas, thanks to that nice stripper, Darla LaNotta, and if I hadn’t drunk so much last night—to the point where my head was still pounding—I’d have been nicer.
Yoga people in general were okay, and the girl who was here had made me hard, like I’
