Chapter 36 The Steak-Out
The Steak-Out
Ryder
The place was packed, but I'd scored us a decent table and was doing my part to get Griff drunk.
On steak.
On potatoes.
And on the whiskey that I'd been ordering back-to-back. Some of the whiskey was for him. But the rest of it? Yeah, that was for me.
And Griff? He was hoovering it up like he hadn't eaten in days.
No surprise there. The guy's kitchen was so bare, he'd probably been gnawing on the walls.
And how did I know this?
Easy. After leaving the coffee shop, I'd gone straight to that shithole apartment, where I'd let myself in and made myself at home while waiting for him to get off work.
Yeah, work.
At a bike shop.
If that wasn't hilarious, I didn't know what was.
Except I wasn't laughing. I mean, sure, I was putting on a decent show. But on the inside? I wasn't feeling it.
I was hungry alright, but not for food. What I really wanted was intel, and the person across from me was just the guy to give it – except he wasn't, because he was too busy inhaling his steak.
Sure, he'd always been tight-lipped when it came to anything personal, but tonight he was even worse. So far, he'd said nearly nothing except jack and squat.
And I knew there were things worth mentioning, whether he'd cough them up or not.
To get the ball rolling, I said, "From what I hear, you got a job."
His fork paused in mid-air. "And you know this, how?"
Two words. Franny Mulberry. "I've got my sources. Did I mention it's a small town?"
He gave me a look. "You live in Chicago."
"You and me both. But it doesn't take long to make friends in a place like this." I flashed him another grin. "Especially when you're me." No joke. Apparently, I was a mega-VIP.
And yet, I wasn't feeling it, not after that scene with Tessa. I still didn't know why things had gone sideways, but whatever the reason, it was still messing with my head.
So here I was, looking for the inside story from a guy who must've had more answers than me.
But was he giving them?
Hell no.
Like a man on a mission, he was already back to the steak.
Please. Like I'd let that stop me. I leaned back in my chair. "The way I hear it, I'm not the only one making friends."
Abruptly, he set down his fork. "Meaning?"
It was time to go for broke. "Word is, you've got a thing going with that brunette at the bike shop." Or at least, that's how Franny had described her – a cute brunette with a knockout smile.
But here at the table, Griff reached slowly for his whiskey like he was stalling for time. "Then you heard wrong."
I gave him a skeptical look. "If you say so."
"I do."
The guy was so full of it that I laughed. "Is it true you're working for food?" I leaned in, like I was giving him a mission. "Because I've got some stuff that needs doing."
He frowned. "Like what?"
"Remember that barista?"
"Which one?"
The question was ridiculous. In my mind, there was only one – a certain blonde with eyes full of secrets and a smile worth chasing. Still, I kept my tone easy as I replied, "Raisin Girl." Or at least, that's what Griff had called her on that very first day.
He shrugged. "Yeah, what about her?"
A shrug? Seriously? The guy was obviously nuts, because Tessa Sinclair wasn't someone you shrugged off like she was nothing. I was still leaning in. "Who is she?" Sure, I had answers of my own, but like a master negotiator, I wanted him to go first.
Did it work?
Hell no.
Captain Quiet took another sip of his whiskey, like we were discussing the traffic or weather. Eventually, he asked, "How should I know?"
Fuck. It was like pulling teeth. I shifted in my seat, preparing to toss out a bone. "The way I hear it, she's living with your boss."
That got his attention. Slowly, he set down his glass. "So they're roommates?"
I stared. Was he for real?
Shit. The way it looked, I was giving him the scoop and not the other way around. I shook my head, incredulous. "You didn't know?"
"Why would I?" he said. "I've known her all of two days."
Whoa. In the big scheme of things, two days was just a blip. And yet, for who-knows-why, it felt like I'd been chasing this for weeks.
As I mentally backtracked, I hit the brakes. Wait a minute. Griff's calendar wasn't adding up. "Three," I corrected, recalling his arrival. "There was that thing at the dock." I meant, of course, the tug-of-war between Griff and a tourist, along with – holy fuck – I just realized something.
A cute brunette – she'd been there at the dock. I'd seen her. And Griff had acted all funny when I'd mentioned her later on – so of course, I'd had to comment on her ass, just to annoy him. Was that Maisie?
It had to be. She'd been wearing some sort of work-shirt I hadn't bothered to track. I added that to my intel and gave Griff an expectant look.
"Fine," he said. "Call it two and a half. But she never mentioned a roommate."
See, this was the thing about Griff. Because he didn't talk much, he spent too much time out of the loop.
Normally, I didn't care.
Hell, sometimes it was nice to have a friend who didn't yammer nonstop. But even for Griff, this was pretty damned disappointing.
Scratch that. I wasn't merely disappointed. I was ticked. "What, you've never been to her place?"
He just looked at me.
Oh, for fuck's sake. I cocked an eyebrow just to piss him off. "Don't tell me you do it above the boathouse."
He stiffened as if I'd just mentioned a three-way with his sister – which would've been hilarious except he didn't have a sister and I preferred things one-on-one.
He ground out, "We're not 'doing it' at all." And then, he shot me a look hard enough to cut steel. "For the record, it's not your business."
Well, damn.
Score one for Franny Mulberry. She'd called it, telling me on the way back to my hotel that the hit man-slash-bike mechanic was making eyes at Maisie like she was a treasure worth protecting – her words, not mine.
With a chuckle, I shot back, "Since when do you get shy?"
His jaw ticked. "Since when do you get nosy?"
"Nosy?" I laughed. "A few days, and you're picking up the lingo. Small towns, am I right?"
"Fine," he gritted out. "Since when do you get curious?"
The curiosity wasn't new. It was a trait that had served me well, especially in real estate, where digging deeper meant seeing what others had missed.
But now, my curiosity was centered on Tessa, who'd kept me guessing from the start. Even with today's pastries, I was still wondering what she'd done after I left.
Had she actually delivered them?
Or tossed them out of spite? I didn't think so – not with that delivery-fee line I'd pulled out of my ass. It was no fee. It wasn't a tip either. Mostly, it was compensation for the hassle I'd caused her at the end of the day.
I'd wanted to make her laugh. Instead, I'd only pissed her off – although for the life of me, I still didn't understand why.
When I'd mentioned the joys of raisin-grams to Griff, he'd had no reaction. This could mean one of two things. Tessa hadn't done it. Or Griff wasn't saying. Maybe it was his newest strategy, ignoring raisins in hopes they'd go away.
To his question, I replied, "I'm always curious." I leaned back. "But hey, I'm glad you asked, because there's something I want you to find out."
His eyebrows lifted. "Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah." I gave him a no-bullshit look. "What's up with the barista?"
He studied my face. "Raisin Girl."
"Yeah. Her." Sure, I could've said her name. And I could've mentioned she was from Chicago. I could've told him a lot of things, like the fact I'd recognized her from the start.
But experience had taught me something so simple it stuck. If you want clean intel, you give a clean slate. No hints. No heads-up. No breadcrumbs to follow.
To get him going, I leaned in to say, "She looks familiar. And I wanna know why."
Griff didn't even blink. His face could've been carved out of stone as he asked, "Familiar how?"
"You tell me."
Now he looked annoyed. "I can't because you're not giving jack to go on."
"Sure I am. I already said she's roommates with your boss."
"I don't have a boss."
I laughed. "The hell you don't."
"I don't," he repeated. "What I've got is a place to pass the time, score some food, and preserve my cash. That's it."
Yeah, right. The guy was obviously in denial. I'd seen the way he'd gone rigid when I'd mentioned something horizontal with his boss – except apparently, I couldn't call her that, not if I wanted Griff's help.
And yet, I couldn't let him off that easy. "Fine. We'll call her your girlfriend."
He stared. "What?"
"Oh, come on," I laughed. "I can tell you're interested."
A muscle twitched in his jaw. "Is that so?"
"Yup." What I didn't say was that I wasn't the only person who thought so. The locals had already paired them up – unless, of course, Griff was a hit man, in which case, Maisie was in for a broken heart.
It really was hilarious.
But across the table, Griff looked too serious to laugh. "Then let me ask you something."
"What?"
He gave me a penetrating look. "That barista – what's she to you?"
"Nothing." Except I said it too quickly to stick the landing, and Griff's eyes sharpened like he wasn't buying it. Stalling for time, I picked up my glass and took a long, careful sip.
His mouth twitched as he said, "You're full of it. You do know that, right?"
"Yeah, well…maybe you are, too."
I just looked at him.
He just looked at me.
In the end, we were saved by the waiter, who'd shown up to refill our drinks. We spent the rest of dinner talking about everything except them.
Maisie for him.
Tessa for me.
But I knew Griff. He wasn't one to deny a friend a favor, even one as messed up as mine.
If there was information worth having, he'd make an effort to get it. I'd just need to be patient.
But as it turned out, patience wasn't needed.
And why?
Because later that night, I heard more than I wanted – and not from Griff.
But from Tessa herself.