He grinned. "Why wouldn't I?"
Oh. My. God.That grin – it might've melted my panties if I weren't scared out of my wits. This guy was seriously dangerous – and not only because of his connection to Chicago.
And yet, the longer he lingered, the more it felt possible – heck, maybe evenprobable– that his visit was a total coincidence. The knot in my chest loosened just a little.
Throwing caution to the wind, I lowered my voice to a mock whisper. "Because ifIpick, you run the risk of raisin."
His eyes crinkled with amusement, and he barked out a laugh. "Man, that's cold."
In spite of everything, I smiled – arealsmile, because apparently, my body hadn't gotten the memo that this was a crisis. "Not if you like raisins."
Next to him, his hungover friend made a sound low in his throat, like the mere thought of raisins made him want to gag. He gave me a serious look before gritting out, "No raisins. Just grab whatever lasts the longest."
I wasn't following. "Sorry…what?"
Before he could clarify, Ryder jumped in with, "He means grab whatever takes the longest to rot."
I stiffened.Rot?
Seriously?
Call me stubborn, but I couldn't let it go. "Nothing we serverots." I hitched my thumb toward the health inspection notice, posted on the wall directly behind me. "See? Perfect score."
I was actually pretty proud of that score, because it was me – not my boss – who'd been in charge when the inspection had occurred. I'd been on the job for only two days when the inspector had come in, looking for violations.
He'd found exactly zero, thank you very much.Thus, the score of 100, posted for everyone to see.
But Ryder Vaughn didn't even look. He just leaned in farther, with that lazy grin still in place. "Sure, not right away. But give it time."
Behind him, a heavyset man was glaring daggers into Ryder's back, like he'd been waiting for so long that our baked goodshadrotted.
Great. One more happy customer.
But this time, I had no one to blame but myself – well, me and my boss, who was still MIA even as the line grew. If only I'd been quicker, the Chicago duo would've been long gone, pastries and all.
Even so, pride made me ask, "Is that a joke?"Good Lord.Wasn't that the same thing Muffin Man had said tome?
Ryder's gaze, sharper now, locked on mine. As our gazes held, I had the distinct impression that he knew exactly who I was –andwhat I was doing here.
My breath caught, and I waited. For what, I didn't even know.
When he finally spoke, his tone was teasing with something sharper underneath. "I'm just saying, even raisins were grapesonce." He leaned back and crossed his arms, giving me a look that pierced my soul. "Think about that."
I blinked. Wasthata joke?
Or some sort of weird threat?
And let's say itwasa threat, what did it mean?
Was I the grape?
Was he going to squash me?
No.That was silly.
A squashing would turn me into wine, not a raisin.
I was still blinking stupidly when his friend looked to me with a sigh. "Just ignore him. That's what I do."
