“Don’t worry about it. There’s nothing that a bowl of soup and a drink and a rest won’t help. It might notfixanything, but it’ll ease things down.” With a wink and a grin, Ryder went back to grab his beer, then came to sit at the opposite end of the big, horseshoe-shaped booth.
“You don’t mind, do you? It will easier to watch over you.”
No, he didn’t mind. Big as he was, Ryder was leaving him plenty of space, and he was respectful, Nolan thought.
“It’s fine.” He tried the soup, and Nolan couldn’t help but moan at how good it was.
So yummy.
“It’s good, huh?” Those dark eyes studied him with an intensity that should have really bothered him, but it didn’t.
Not at all.
So Nolan smiled at Ryder before dipping his bread in his soup and nomming it down. His belly hurt when the food hit it, it was so empty.
“It’s so good.” Nolan licked his lips, catching a drop of soup as it dripped off his bottom lip. It was cheesy and creamy, with just the right level of salt. “How did a biker bar get a cook who could make soup like this?”
Ryder shrugged. “I don’t know. Quin, the wolf who owns this place, he’s kind of amazing. He really engenders loyalty. He’s a solid son of a bitch.”
Nolan guessed that was better than being a solid gold son of a bitch.
“Race didn’t mention him, but I know he has to be careful about details, especially on the phone.” Race dealt in things that scared him, but he was grateful for it now.
“Yeah. He’s a squirrely one. It serves him well.”
“Not a squirrel,” Nolan deadpanned.
“No. I guess not.” Ryder chuckled at him. The bartender came out to give Ryder a plate of fried things. Looked like onion rings and fried cheese and, like, some kind of bread or sandwich with powdered sugar on it.
Nolan squinted. “Is that a Monte Cristo?” He’d heard of them but had never tried one.
“Uh-huh. Want a bite? The cook makes fresh jam…”
Oh… Yes. He wanted a bite of that. He nodded wordlessly because his mouth was watering, and Nolan was sure he would drool if he opened his lips at this point.
“Cool.” Ryder cut half of the sandwich in half, then slathered it with jam before handing it over on a napkin.
“Oh, that’s a lot. Are you sure you want to share that much with me?”
Ryder’s dark eyes lit up, the big bear seeming tickled. “I can always have him make more. Besides, I told you. I’m in it for the fried cheese.”
Nolan knew better than to look a gift bear in the mouth, so he inclined his head in thanks and devoured the sandwich.
Ryder did the same, noshing on his cheese before inhaling his half-sandwich. Once it was gone, he lifted his finger and jerked his chin at the bartender for another one.
“Sorry, I’m just so hungry,” Nolan said, his cheeks burning. It was embarrassing, but not enough to make him stop eating.
“It’s all right, I can tell you’ve been stressed. We’re bears. Stress makes us hungry.”
Nolan dared to laugh softly. “We’re bears; everything makes us hungry,”
That earned him a soft, deep chuckle. “Fair enough, but you’re only a little bear, so how hungry can you be?”
“Right? Compared to you not so much, but I bet compared to that wolf at the bar, I can be pretty famished.” Now he felt daring, almost like he was pushing boundaries, and that was dangerous. Flirting with the big bear was probably stupid.
He didn’t know these people, no matter what Race said about them being okay.
“I’m sorry. That was out of line.”
