My usual order – a basic black coffee – would take less than a minute. It wasn't long enough – not to get a feel for what was happening and maybe sneak a peek into the back.
So naturally, there was only one thing to say. "Bad news."
She gave me a wary look. "What?"
"I've got a special order." And then I smiled.Why tip anyone off?
Yeah, this included Tessa, because she looked ready to bolt. And whatever the trouble was, the last thing Iwanted was to make it worse.
33
Special Order, Hidden Agenda?
Tessa
I wanted to groan in frustration.A special order? Seriously?
As Ryder smiled from the other side of the counter, I put on my poker face and tried like heck to hold it.
It wasn't that I minded the work. Today, business had gone surprisingly smooth – but only because the number of customers had dwindled early, probably due to my second-rate service.
What Ididmind was pretending to stay calm while Ryder Vaughn played Mister Detective – or whatever he was up to.
"Terrific," I chirped, trying to sound like I meant it. "So…special how? I mean, we don't do a lot on-site, so I'd hate to get your hopes up."
His eyebrows lifted. "So no Porterhouse?"
I hated that I wanted to laugh. "Sorry, we're all out."
He shrugged. "Then it's a good thing I didn't order one."
Now, I had no idea what to say.Was he stalling for time? Or just messing around?
Either way, he was definitely up to something.
Yes, I'd suspected this from his very first visit. But then, afterward, like a total idiot, I'd let down my guard, especially yesterday – talking about fudge and movies, and my dead Aunt Tillie who didn't even exist.
He'd made me smile – and not only because he was funny. It was because, just for a moment there, the troubles from Chicago had faded away, leaving me feeling a lot like my old self.
Plus, let's be honest here. Justlookingat the guy would make any girl smile.
But I wasn't just any girl. I was trying to lay low, and I'd been way too careless.
Last night had been a huge wakeup call – learning that Maisie's mystery man was connected to Chicago.And to Ryder Vaughn.
Making everything worse was the fact that with Maisie, I'd felt compelled to play it down. I didn't freak out. I didn't bolt. And I especially didn't tell her half of what I knew.
And why? Because panic was contagious, and Maisie was stressed enough. So I'd dug deep and played the whole thing off like a harmless joke.No mention of Chicago. No naming of Ryder Vaughn. No admitting that he was anything more than a good tipper who'd gotten under my skin.
I'd made the whole thing sound almost comedic, like a silly skit starring two tourists, a confusing pastry order, and a hundred-dollar tip. I'd even told her about the cranberry switcheroo like it was some mischievous prank.
I'd kept silent on the rest of it, especially my suspicion that her miracle mechanic would soon be leaving her high and dry.
God, what a shitshow.
As my thoughts churned, Ryder said, "But if you've got a ribeye…"
Oh, for God's sake."We don't."
