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 even they knew 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 – my potato 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 been that naughty."
"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 smelly and cold. 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 maybe you're losing 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 it wasn't Darleen.
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 you didn't pick it."
"Hey, I was the one who found this place, remember?" To illustrate the point, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. He gave it a little dangle and said, "The place came with two. I gave you one."
I should have known. "And you'll be giving me the second one before you leave." I said it mostly to make a point. Knowing Ryder, he could get in regardless, but there was no need to make it easy.
I stepped all the way in and shut the door behind me before asking, "Are those my chips?" Yeah, I knew the answer, but I was looking to make a point.
He glanced at the bag. "Well, I didn't bring them with me, if that's what you're asking."
I strode forward and snatched the bag from his hands. I peered inside and spotted maybe a dozen broken chips sitting sadly at the bottom. I looked back to Ryder. "Seriously?"
"What?"
"They're almost gone."
"Yeah, so? It's not like you cared in Chicago."
No kidding . In Chicago, my cupboards were filled – and not even by me. I had a shopping service and a housekeeper along with wads of cash and credit to burn. There had been no shortage of chips. In a tight voice, I told him, "This isn't Chicago."
He put on a face of exaggerated concern. "Oh…was that dinner?"
Fucker. It wasn't quite dinner. Maisie had given me two sandwiches for lunch. I'd wanted both, but I had eaten only one.
I'd saved the second for a late dinner. Or at least, that had been the plan until about halfway home when I'd parked the bike within sight of the Mackinac Bridge and scarfed down the second sandwich at a speed that was both unseemly and unsatisfying.
I'd meant to savor it while enjoying the sounds of the water and the sight of the engineering marvel that let drivers cross nearly five miles over water without getting wet.
Five miles. That was some serious distance. And the Mighty Mac – that's what some people called it – was nice to look at, too. Of course, I might have admired it more fully if my stomach hadn't felt so empty.
And Ryder – if he was so hungry, why not eat a pastry? Oh, right – cranberries.
Knowing Ryder, he'd given the box a look, but had taken the chips instead. No dried fruit for him.
Jackass.
I glanced down at the mattress and felt my irritation rise to the surface. "You got crumbs on my bed."
"Yeah, so?" Ryder looked around. "Where else should I sit? On the sofa?" He chuckled. "Oh, wait. You don't have one."
He was right, but that didn't mean I had to like it. This whole place was a barren dump. This was part of the reason I'd gravitated to the bike shop. Any place was better than here.
It wasn't because of Maisie. She was just the person who owned the shop – not the reason I was counting the hours until tomorrow, when I'd be there instead of here.
When I refused to take the bait, Ryder said, "And you never answered my question."
"What question?"
He pointed to the nearly empty bag of chips and snickered like a five-year old. "Was that your dinner?"
My jaw clenched. "No. I already ate." Even though it was true, that didn't mean I wasn't hungry. As far as the chips, I'd been saving them for dessert. But hell if I let Ryder think that his pilfering of a few chips would have me starving in the gutter.
He put on a face of regret. "Sorry, but you're gonna have to eat again."
I sensed a trap. "And why's that?"
He gestured toward the chip bag. "Payback."
I wasn't following. "What?"
"I ate the chips, so I've gotta replace them." He stood. "Now c'mon. I've got a ride on the way."
I was still waiting for the catch. "A ride."
"Yeah, except I'm done with chips." He grinned. "You'll have to settle for steak."