"Not even over steak?" He said it like he expected me to salivate and jump like a dog for a treat. And yeah, maybe I was salivating a little, but there'd be no jumping today. At least not forhim."Sorry, I've got plans."
He looked down at my basket. "Wait a minute. You've got two sodas."
"Yeah, so?"
"So for you and who else?"
Damn it."Maybe I want two."
"Bull," he said. "If they were both for you, they'd be beer."
The man had a point. I didn't mind soda, but it was far from my favorite drink. I said nothing in reply.
His eyes narrowed. "You're planning a picnic."
Shit.I hadn't called it a picnic, even in my own mind, but yeah, I guess I was.
When I still said nothing, Ryder burst out laughing. "Don't tell me you've gone native?"
I frowned. "What?"
"Look at you," he laughed. "You're totally blending." Again, he lowered his voice. "Should I stage an intervention? What's next? Flannel and a tandem?"
I gave him a hard look. "Hey, I've seenyouin flannel."
"Not on a tandem, you haven't."
I glanced at the front window, where right on cue, a thirty-something couple rode by on a bicycle built for two. The guy was in front. The girl was in back. They were both smiling like they were having the time of their lives. I pointed in their direction. "Don't knock it 'til you've tried it."
He didn't even look. It was just as well, considering they were already gone. With a dramatic groan, he said, "Oh, my God. Youhavegone native."
Asshole."Don't you have a lunch to get to?"
"I can't," he said. "My lunch partner just bailed."
I paused to think. "You mean me? We didn't have plans."
"Maybeyoudidn't," he said, looking disgruntled. "ButIdid."
"So ask the barista," I said. "Maybe you'll have better luck than I did."
He stiffened. "What?" He gave me a long look. "So you've been hitting on her?"
Sure, the barista was pretty. But she wasn't Maisie. I laughed. "Not hardly. I've been trying to get information like you asked."
His shoulders relaxed. "Oh."
I studied his face. "Wait…is there something you wanna tell me?"
"Nope." He glanced toward the register. "Sorry, gotta check out." And with that, he made a beeline for the register, grabbing a bag of pretzels on the way. Thirty seconds later, he was heading out the door.
I gave a slow shake of my head. Even for Ryder, this was more than a little strange.
As he passed the front window, I stared after him, wondering what the hell was going on and why he wasreallyhere – because I had the sudden sensation that he wasn't here to hasslemeat all.
What wasthatabout?
44
