Ryder ignored him and pushed past another waiter. Then he shoved a cook out of the way and knocked over a rack of pastries to block anyone from following us.
“Hey!” shouted someone. “You can’t be back here!”
This was probably where we’d get arrested. But I was pleased that Ryder was the one making the mess instead of me. Usually I was the one knocking things over. And even though Ryder was doing it on purpose…it was still his fault not mine. I needed to take this man with me everywhere.
“Run,” said Ryder.
I heard more commotion from the front of the kitchen, where the FBI agents had probably just come in.Run. Okay.That was a good plan. Plus running was on my list of new things to try.I’m fucking outta here.I kicked my shoes off and ran through the kitchen. A busboy narrowly avoided being turned into a pancake by Ryder. We burst into a stairwell. Ryder grabbed me and pushed me up against the wall.
“Shouldn’t we keep running…” my voice trailed off as he leaned in to kiss me. But he stopped a fraction of an inch before his lips met mine.What is he doing?Was I supposed to lean in? Were we still supposed to be running? I breathed in his exhales as my heart threatened to beat out of my chest. Was he waiting for my permission?You have it, sir.
As it turned out, he wasn’t waiting for my permission. He was just waiting for an FBI agent to pass. Because as soon as we were alone, he pulled back.
“Phew, that was close,” he said, completely ignoring the fact that we’d almost kissed. And that I was so turned on that I was practically panting.
Seriously…why did the combination of almost getting arrested and being pressed up against a wall by a stranger have meall hot and bothered? Probably because my stalker was hardly a stranger. We’d known each other through silent stares for months. And his lips had looked so utterly kissable for just as long. My gaze dropped back down to his mouth.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “All this running has me famished. Come on, I know the perfect place.”
“Oh. Um…” I looked down at my bare feet. But before I could protest, he scooped me up in his arms and carried me out to the street where he was able to hail another taxi on his first try. The cab stopped near the Caldwell hotel, which I thought was way too close to where the original FBI raid had happened.
“Shouldn’t we go somewhere far away from here?” I asked.
Ryder shrugged. “Only an amateur would come back to the scene of the crime. They’d never expect that from me. And hence…it’s the perfect place to go.”
So he wasn’t an amateur…what? Murderer? Burglar? Stalker? An amateur what?! I was tempted to tell the driver to step on it when Ryder climbed out of the car. But…how could I walk away now? If we’d really somehow avoided the FBI, this was my one chance to really get to know my stalker. And I’d been dying for this moment for months.
Before I could decide what to do, Ryder nonchalantly picked me up out of the taxi and carried me over to a food cart. It didn’t have a name. The sign just said GYROS in big bold Greek-looking letters.
“You’re going to show my underwear to everyone!” I said, pulling on the hem of my dress.
“Lucky them,” he replied. “You know, I’ve been wondering. How many kinds of foot fungus are on the average New York City sidewalk?”
I suppressed a gag. But I was also kind of impressed. I don’t think any other guy I had ever met would have been aware of sidewalk foot fungus. Or would have been willing to carry me around like a sack of potatoes to keep my bare feet away from said fungus. “If you drop me, I’ll kill you.” Why did I keep threatening to murder him?
For a second he looked at the ground like he was actually going to drop me.
“I’m joking! Please don’t put me down.”
There was that smile again.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” he said.
And he stayed true to his word. He carried me all the way to the front of the line and held me while the guy made our gyros.
I couldn’t help but notice how strong he must have been. I wasn’t one of those spin class Odegaard models. I had a little meat on my bones, and he just carried me around like I weighed nothing. I tried my best not to nuzzle against his strong chest. Because that would have been weird…right?Maybe if I just…
“These are the best gyros in town,” he said.
Good, he’d distracted me from doing something awkward. I couldn’t nuzzle his chest. I wasn’t a cat. “Is that how it’s pronounced? I always thought it was jie-roes.”
The vendor gave me a dirty look.
“Have you never had a gyro?” asked Ryder.
“Nope.” I’d also never been carried around NYC before, and I was loving that. I was down for trying something else new tonight.
Ryder’s cellphone rang and he somehow answered it without dropping me. He listened to whoever was on the other end.
