“I don’t believe you,” he said. “I’m utterly missable.”
Becca brought over their hot dogs, interrupting her train of thought.
“Here you go. Enjoy.”
Elissa would later swear the woman winked, even odds if it was at her or Ryan.
“Dig in.” He lifted the bacon-wrapped hot dog loaded with beans, tomatoes, onions, and all sorts of condiments and took a huge bite.
While he kept his smoldering eyes on her lips, Elissa followed suit. Half the toppings slipped out onto the plate, but wow, it was so yummy. The pinto beans were well seasoned, the right amount of mayo, and the pico de gallo—oh, that was some of the best she’d ever had.
He washed down his mouthful with some beer. “Good, huh?”
“You promised me the best Sonoran dog in Tucson. I have to say, you’re a man of your word.”
“See? I’m not a jerk, usually. Just that one time.”
Elissa snorted in derision. He probably had been a jerk many times in his life, but a few moments of jerkiness did not mean he was fundamentally a jerk.
“Okay, more than once. But I swear, I normally don’t insult beautiful, intelligent women by suggesting their only duty is to act as arm candy for privileged assholes.”
“Fine. I will no longer refer to you as Jerk-Ryan. Especially since the other Ryan I was supposed to meet turned out to be one giant beige flag.”
“Why, thank you, Your Majesty.”
She huffed out an exaggerated, exasperated sigh, but softened it with a curl of her lips. “Would you believe I didn’t have time to miss anybody this week? Not even someone as missable as you.”
His smiled widened when she called him missable, but didn’t tease her about it.
“Tax season that bad already?”
“No, but my parents are out of town, so I’m staying with my younger brother.”
“How much younger?”
“He’s seventeen, a junior in high school.”
“Ah. No one ever trusted me enough to be responsible for a younger family member.”
Deadpan, she said, “Gee, I don’t know why.”
He nudged her shoulder with his own while laughing. Heat coiled through her from the point of contact. He might as well have slid his hand under her shirt, with the way her body reacted, like there weren’t two layers of fabric between them.
Elissa snuck a glance in his direction, wondering if he felt even a part of what she did. Ryan held himself stock-still, a look of shock on his face, but only for an instant. He forced himself to relax. She could see it in the slow easing of tension in his shoulders and in the return of the smile that did weird things to her insides. Before he noticed her watching, she refocused her attention to her drink, swirling the straw around the ice.
“I don’t swear.” She tried easing him back into the conversation. Elissa wasn’t sure what to do with the knowledge that he felt the same spark, so she changed the subject to something safe.
He cleared his throat, but his voice was the low rumble of his greeting. “What?”
“Earlier, you said I might’ve spent my day swearing at the copier. I don’t swear. At least, not usually.”
He cleared his throat again and took a sip of his beer.
“Ah, a goody two-shoes.” His voice returned to its clear tenor. She didn’t know which she liked more. This voice was musical, one she would never tire of hearing. But when he rumbled, ooh, it was liquid warmth stroking her core.
“No. Well, yeah. Mostly. I was the oldest, my baby brother was sick, and my younger sister was—is—entropy incarnate. I tried not to be a problem. When Ami entered her cursing like a sailor phase in middle school, my mom instituted a swear jar, and I internalized it. Besides, we use the money for a family fun night, you know, go to the movies or bowling. Things have to be going to heck in a handbasket for me to use anything above a PG rating.”
“Sounds like a challenge.” Impish delight sparked in his warm brown eyes.
