“You kissed me,” I corrected. “That was a mistake.”
“It didn’t feel like a mistake.” His eyes were on my lips again, soft and needful.
“Look—”
“Mind if I join you two lovebirds?”
I jerked.
Ryder stood next to the table, a buttermilk twist in one hand, coffee in the other. He wasn’t looking at Cooper, his gaze riveted to mine. And he was smiling.
The look in his eyes was inscrutable. Humor? Curiosity? Mockery? I couldn’t tell. Ryder Bailey knew how to keep his true feelings tucked behind his glowing eyes when he wanted to.
I waved at the booth next to Cooper. “Have a seat.”
“No room,” Cooper said. He didn’t budge, using up bench space that would seat at least two people.
Ryder glanced around the room looking for a spare chair, but the place was full. “It’ll work.” He dropped down so close to the other man that Cooper grunted and moved to one side to keep from getting pinned.
Ryder bit into his twist, still not looking at the man next to him. Which might be because they were sitting so close, they’d have to lean away from each other to actually make eye contact. That could not be a comfortable arrangement.
Cooper pulled one shoulder forward, leaning his elbow on the table.
Ryder sat there, unconcerned, drinking coffee.
“When did you say you were leaving?” Ryder asked.
“I just got here,” Cooper said. “Might never leave.”
“He got a reason to stay, Delaney?” Ryder chewed with nonchalance.
“In the bakery or in Ordinary?”
“I find myself curious to both answers.”
Cooper snorted. “Jackass.”
“Freeloader,” Ryder shot back.
I watched them. Wondered what history between them that I’d missed. Wondered if I’d have to break them up like Odin and Zeus. Seriously, could I not go a day without two men having it out?
“When are you skipping town again?” Ryder asked, still not looking over at him. “I’d like to throw a parade.”
“Get off my back, Bailey. You play Boy Scout, but you’re a liar. Where the hell have you been all these years? College and some fancy job in a big city doesn’t lead a man back to this low-rent shack town. You came back for a reason, and it isn’t a good one.”
Ryder didn’t show any reaction to that except for his eyes. For the first time since he’d sat, he looked down, looked sideways.
If I were trained to read body language, to interrogate, to read people, I’d say Cooper had hit too close to secrets Ryder didn’t want to tell. I might even think Ryder was sizing up how many times he could sucker-punch Cooper before I stopped him.
“Take it outside, Reserve Officer Bailey,” I said calmly. “You might not be on the clock, but that won’t keep me from arresting you for disturbing the peace.”
Ryder’s gaze flicked up. Eyes filled with heat, mouth curved at one corner into a wicked smile, he did not look like someone willing to apologize for his behavior, nor worried about arrest. His tongue tip slipped at the bottom of his lip, which he then bit.
My own mouth went dry. The brief touch of teeth on the soft swell of his lower lip, the heat in his eyes telling me he liked the idea of being on the wrong side of the law—or maybe just liked the idea of me manhandling him.
An entirely different kind of heat shot through me, leaving an electric hum deep in my belly.
Maybe Cooper was right about one thing: Ryder Bailey was no Boy Scout.
