Chapter 77
Blame the Recliner
Tessa
The vibration jolted me awake like a buzz out of the blue. My heart jumped before my brain caught up, and for a split second, I had no idea where I was.
I squinted in the shadows and tried to make it out. I wasn't at home. I wasn't in bed. I was – oh, right – in Skip's recliner.
Damn it.
Groggily, I shifted and fumbled for my phone. When I saw the screen, my breath caught.
Ryder.
The phone continued to buzz as instinct collided with common sense. If I answered now, would I look pathetic? Stalling, I squinted at the time on the screen. Just after midnight.
Holy crap.
I'd been asleep for nearly two hours.
Stupid recliner.
But forget that. Why was Ryder calling me now?
And just like that, the buzzing stopped.
I stared at the screen, and my heart sank as the sudden silence seemed to fill the whole back room.
With a frustrated groan, I sank deeper into that stupid chair, annoyed with myself for overthinking it – and even more annoyed that I wasn't thinking in my own bed.
After biking to the coffee shop to check the back door, I'd ended up inside, checking the entire shop to make sure everything was closed up tight.
And then, like an overly curious cat, I'd decided to test out the recliner – just for a minute or two – to see what it was like. And yeah, it was surprisingly comfy – too comfy, apparently.
Now, here I was, comfy but cranky, wondering what Ryder had called to say. I checked for a voicemail, but found nothing at all, which meant…what exactly?
Maybe it was a pocket-dial? If so, it was a good thing I hadn't answered. I might've looked like a fool.
Fine. Whatever. It's not like I had anything intelligent to say.
But then, the phone vibrated again.
I sucked in a nervous breath, wondering what to do. But my finger had a mind of its own. It hit the answer button, and I heard myself say, "Hello?"
Ryder's voice was warm in the shadows. "Okay, before you hang up, you should know, the fridge made me do it."
The fridge? In spite of everything, I smiled. "Oh, great. Now I feel cheated."
He paused. "Why's that?"
"Because my fridge only stores food."
"Not only food," he said. "Rumor has it, you've got a thousand tiny bottles."
My lips twitched. "Which I store in my suitcase, thank you very much."
"Why there?"
I considered the suitcase, packed not only with booze, but with clothing, because I hadn't made use of the dressers. But why not? Maisie had told me to make myself at home. And yet, I hadn't. Slowly, I said, "You know…that's a really good question."
With a low chuckle, he asked, "Wanna know where I store my whiskey?"
"Where?"
"My stomach."
I laughed, even as it hit me that he wasn't completely joking. He wasn't slurring, exactly, but if I really listened, I could hear the buzz in his voice, like he'd had a drink or two.
Or five.
Suddenly curious, I asked, "How much whiskey?"
His voice softened. "Enough to know I should've replied to your messages." He exhaled softly through the line. "If I were in a better mood, I would've laughed my ass off."
My chest tightened, because I knew what he meant. Both messages had been memes, using images from the movie Airplane! While sending them, I would've laughed too, except…well, they weren't half as funny without Ryder. Quietly, I asked, "Did you at least smile?"
"A little," he admitted. "But it wasn't the same without you."
My heart warmed at his words. "Honestly, I can kind of relate."
"Only kind of," he teased.
A wistful smile tugged at my lips. "Well, it's not like we actually saw the movie together."
"Right, because someone won't go on a date."
"But that's not true," I protested. "I just won't go on a date now. Or at least, not in public." I hated to say it, but I had to. He deserved the truth, even if it wasn't what he wanted to hear.
After a long moment, he asked, "Wanna know what the fridge thinks?"
I almost sighed with relief. He was joking. That was a good sign, right? With my heart in my throat, I replied, "I don't know. Do I?"
"It thinks that I should've asked you to explain."
I stifled a giggle. "Oh, does it?"
"Yup. Apparently, it thinks I'm an idiot." But then, the humor faded from his voice as he asked, "So, do you wanna tell me?"