If I wasn't careful, I could definitely get used to this.
19
Chip Theft & Other Crimes
Griff
Something felt off before I even hit the stairs. I couldn't say what caused it – that prickling sensation at the back of my neck. Maybe it was the quiet. Maybe it was a certain scent in the air. Maybe it was the way the seagulls had made themselves scarce like eventheyknew something was up.
I rolled the bike around to the side of the boathouse and leaned it against the wall instead of lugging it up the stairs. I'd lug it later, after depositing my laundry and making sure the coast was clear.
With my head on a swivel, I hoisted the bag over my shoulder and started up the narrow stairway, moving as quietly as I could.
Halfway up, I saw it.
The door was open wide, like someone had kicked it in and made themselves at home.
My pulse jumped as I took the stairs two at a time, ready to toss somebody out on their ass – or multiple asses if they weren't alone. I bolted through the doorway and spotted…Ryder.
He was sitting on the edge of my bare mattress like it was a fucking throne – shoes off, legs kicked out, and an open bag of potato chips –mypotato chips – resting on his lap.
When he spotted me, he grinned like a grade-schooler. "Santa!"
What the fuck?I stared like a dumbass, wondering what he meant until I recalled the bag slung over my shoulder. I tossed it aside and grumbled, "Yeah, enjoy the coal, jackass."
He snorted. "Hey, I haven't beenthatnaughty."
"Bullshit."
He pointed to the black bag. "And if there's coal in there, you should save it for yourself. This place is fucking freezing."
No shit.The weather today was twenty degrees below comfortable, but I'd left the windows open anyway, hoping to air out the stench.
No such luck.Now it was smellyandcold. But hell if I'd admit it.
I shrugged. "The temperature's fine by me. Maybe you're just soft."
He glanced toward nearest window. "Or maybeyou'relosing it."
I'd already lost it, considering that I'd spent half of my bike ride thinking about that damn Buick with a certain someone in the back seat.
And itwasn'tDarleen.
When I said nothing, Ryder made a show of looking around. With a hearty chuckle, he said, "I love what you've done with the place."
Asshole.Except for wiping the table, I'd done nothing, and he damn well knew it.
When I replied with only a silent stare, he reached deep into the bag of chips, pulled out a big one, and popped it into his mouth. Between crunches, he said, "I like the vibe. Distressed cabin meets crime scene." He gave a slow nod. "I like it."
Yeah, well that made one of us.And that bag of chips hadn't come cheap – at least not in terms of my current budget. I gave him a look. "The door was locked."
He shot me with a finger gun. "Key word –was."
"So, you picked it?"
This made him laugh. "I should've. I mean, a guy's gotta keep up his skills, right?"
"So youdidn'tpick it."
