"You are not. We're going the exact same speed."
"Yeah, but I can speed up. Can you?"
"Definitely."
A smile crept into his voice. "Without running?"
I saw nothing to smile about. "Don't tempt me."
And yet, I knew I would lose.He was nearly a foot taller with a physique that spoke of regular workouts and zero dessert. Then again, he did seem to like fudge. Did he like cookies, too?
This morning, I'd wanted to give him some in a cute little bag. But I'd resisted, telling myself I'd look a little desperate, going super domestic after three little kisses.
Okay, threeterrifickisses – and none of them had been small.
But that was totally beside the point.
We were still walking fast when he said, "I'm not gonna take it back, you know."
Abruptly, I stopped – and not only because I was getting a little winded. By now, we'd nearly reached the exit, and my thoughts were so jumbled, I could hardly think. I wanted to say something, but I had no idea what.
In the end, it was Ryder who spoke first. "It's not you," he said. "It's that place."
I crossed my arms and summoned up the sarcasm this deserved. "Oh, really?"
"Yup." He gave me a penetrating look. "Tell me this. How many coffee shops have just one employee?"
"That's not the point."
"Sure it is. But it's not all of it." He held up a hand, palm out. "Just hear me out, okay?"
I gave a reluctant nod.
He leaned closer. "You're smart. We both know this. But what you're doing with that job – it's the opposite, and we both knowthat, too."
On the surface, he was right.But underneath?Things were a lot more complicated. "Or maybe you justthinkyou know it."
"Nope. The facts are the facts."
I gave him a thin smile. "And what facts are those?"
"Yousayyou're the worst barista, but how was your training?"
I shrugged. "It was okay…I guess."
"Meaning you had none. Am I right?"
"A little," I admitted.
"And you're understaffed by a few hundred percent." He reached for my hand, the one with the burnt thumb. Slowly, he pulled it to his lips and kissed the scalded spot with all the gentleness of a butterfly.
For some reason, it made me want to cry. But that would be silly, so I blinked away the mistiness and tried to think of something to say that wouldn't make me sound pathetic.
When nothing came to mind, I gave him a long, silent look as he kept his lips glued to the spot as if daring me to pull away.
I didn't, because I couldn't.
I didn't even want to.
