"Yeah, but can you blame me? You asked to speak to the manager."
His eyebrows furrowed. "I didwhat?"
"Oh, please. Like you don't remember. One minute you're placing that crazy order, and then when I balk, you tell me to get my boss."
He was staring now. "Are you serious?"
"I don't know. Areyou?"
"I amnow," he said. "But I wasn't then. It was a joke."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, like it's so hilarious to threaten someone's job."
He looked thunderstruck. "To dowhat?"
But already, I was on a roll. "Remember Evan Carver?Hethought that sort of thing was funny, too."
Ryder's expression darkened. "Are you seriously comparing us?"
I answered on instinct. "No. Of course not."
"Yeah, you were." He shook his head. "And I don't get it. What does my raisin order have to do with Evan threatening you?"
"Wait…notme." I pressed a palm to my forehead. "I didn't mean my own job."
Ryder shot me a puzzled look. "So you're saying hedidn'tthreaten you?"
As realization hit, I stifled a groan. "Oh, my God. You're reading it all wrong."
"Is that so?"
"Definitely. But you know what? That's my fault, not yours. I'm doing a pathetic job of explaining it." I took a deep breath and tried again. "Just now, I wasn't talking about Evan threatening my job at Thatcher-Hale. I was talking about somebody else entirely."
Ryder still looked confused. "Who?"
"Our server. On that night Evan and I went out, he was completely awful."
"Evan or the server?"
"Evan. You should've seen him. He was asking for stuff that wasn't even on the menu. And then, when the server pushed back, Evan demanded to see the manager. He wanted to get the guy fired."
Ryder's expression finally cleared. "So in the coffee shop,that'swhat you thought I was doing?"
Now I was the one confused. "Weren't you?"
"Hell no. I was making a joke, like I said."
"Except it wasn't funny."
"Sure, it was," he said. "What Imeantwas thatwe– meaning you and me – should get your lazy boss out there and have him do some work for a change, as opposed to sleeping on a cot – or whatever he does in the back room."
I was almost too stunned to speak. If Ryder was telling the truth, I'd read it completely wrong. Absently, I mumbled, "Actually, it's a recliner, not a cot." As ifthatwere important.
"Same difference," Ryder said. "When he popped out of the back, the guy looked half-asleep, like we'd just woken him up."
No doubt, we had.
And now, as Ryder's explanation hit home, I felt completely awful, but in a totally different way. "Oh."
