He gave the muffin another glance. "Not atthatprice."
A nervous laugh escaped my lips. "Not foranyprice. I mean, it's obviously ruined."
His frown deepened. "You're not gonna throw it out, are ya?"
I was nearly too rattled to think. "Well, I'm not gonna serve it." I tried for a joke."Oreat it myself."
The guy didn't laugh. "So you're gonna do what? Toss it in the trash?"
"Of course."
His tone grew accusing. "That's a little wasteful, don't you think?"
The woman behind him gave a loud, aggravated sigh, like she was two seconds away from shoving him aside to get her fix. And behindher, a couple of teenage girls rolled their eyes, like they were already composing scathing reviews, starringme– the dropper of muffins and destroyer of worlds.
To the guy, I said, "Wasteful?"
My heart was hammering, but not because of the muffin.No.It was because suddenly the trouble I'd left in Chicago was feeling way too close.
I snuck another glance down the line, where Ryder Vaughn was talking to the guy next to him – a friend from the looks of it.
The friend was brown-haired and brooding, dripping with the kind of wealth his rumpled clothes couldn't quite hide. Rich ornot, he looked nearly wrecked, with a shadowed jawline and eyes narrowed against the light.
Hungover, clearly.
Hot, unfortunately.
But not my type.Thank God.
Ryder Vaughn was bad enough.Hemight've been my type – if he weren't out of my league, a magnet for stares, and minutes away from blowing my cover – that is, assuming he recognized me at all.
We moved in very different circles, but then again, Ihadmade a spectacle of myself.
In front of me, the older guy said, "Tell ya what. Throw it in a separate bag, and I'll take it off your hands."
I hesitated. "You mean…the floor muffin?"
"Sure, why not?"
My stomach roiled, and I spoke without thinking. "So you're gonna eat it?"
Behind him, the woman muttered, "Oh, for muffin's sake."
At the counter, the guy drew back like he'd been slapped. "Is that a joke?"
I barely heard him. My gaze had already drifted back to Ryder Vaughn. "Uh…I don't know. Is it?"
"If it is, it's not funny." The guy was bristling now. "Just who do you think I am?"
I didn't know whohewas, but I knew plenty about Ryder Vaughn. He ran in the same lofty circles as that monster Evan Carver. Probably they were friends or squash partners or heck, went to the same fancy prep school back in the day.
This wasn't good.
I gave a hard swallow and then another.
Muffin Man said, "Well?"
I could hardly think past the pounding in my chest. "Well what?" On auto-pilot, I reached for a new muffin and began shoving it into a bag.
