I'd acted like a dick.
If I were the type to feel shame, this would be the moment. But all I felt now was a pounding headache along with the urge to crash out and wake up in my own bed – alone. No brunette needed.
Ryder's voice cut into my thoughts. "Or you could buymea coffee." He snickered like a ten-year-old. "If you can afford it."
Asshole.I adjusted the bag as my temples continued to throb. "Coffee. Black. Your treat."
Ryder gave a slow nod. "Smart move."
"Oh, shut up."
4
Brunette? What Brunette?
Griff
As Ryder and I headed into the java joint, the smell of coffee hit me hard – and not in a bad way. For the first time since stepping off that ferry, I felt almost human – until Ryder ruined it by saying, "You still look like hell, by the way."
I rubbed at my eyes. "Yeah, because I didn't sleep."
As we joined the long line at the counter, he gave me a curious glance. "Not even in the limo?"
Especiallynot in the limo. I'd spent most of that long-ass drive cursing my own stupidity. "No."
"Why?" he laughed. "Because you were still drunk?"
"No. Because I had better things to do."
This wasn't far-fetched.Throughout the years, I'd done plenty of business on the road. It was amazing what a guy could accomplish with a simple cell phone. Of course, this latest trip had occurred in the middle of the night with zero traffic, taking me to a place I hadn't wanted to go.
What a cluster.
Next to me, Ryder said, "Things to do, huh?" He chuckled. "Like what? Drink yourself stupid?" But then he paused. "Nah, you werealreadydrunk."
No shit.
Ryder was still talking. "If I knowyou– and I'm pretty sure I do – you spent most of that drive trying to figure a way out of it."
He was only half right. Cursing aside, I'd spent the first half looking for a way out and the second half sulking.I'm not proudto say it. I wasn't a sulker by nature, but sometimes, a guy had to do what a guy had to do.
And me? I'd had to sulk – if only to get it out of my system.
But it was time to shake it off. I hadn't clawed my way up just to cry uncle when the cards took a turn for the worse. And now that I was here, my wheels were already turning.
Step one. Conserve cash.
To Ryder, I said, "Buy me a pastry while you're at it."
He smirked. "I'll do better than that. I'll buy you a dozen."
I was too exhausted to roll my eyes. "You're a hell of a guy."
He clapped a hand over his heart. "Don't I know it."
When we finally reached the counter, Ryder ordered two black coffees along with a dozen pastries to go.
The lone barista – a pretty blue-eyed blonde – gave him a winning smile. "What kind of pastries?" She gestured toward the display case. "We've got cookies, muffins, bagels…"
