Ribeye and Rumors
Griff
Ryder caught the waiter's eye and gestured toward my half-empty plate. "He'll be needing another ribeye."
I had to laugh. "No, I won't."
Ryder told the waiter, "Yes, he will. Plus a baked potato with extra butter. Skip the salad." He paused. "Oh, and we'll need a dessert menu. You got any pie?"
I held up a hand. "Hold up. Before you order the whole restaurant, let's see if I finish this ."
"Eh, you'll finish," he said, returning his attention to the waiter. "Don't listen to him. I'm the one paying."
Good thing he was. Between the food we'd already ordered, plus a good bit of whiskey – and not the cheap stuff – he was racking up quite a bill. Yeah, he could afford it without breaking a sweat. But so could I – normally.
Of course, the past few days had been anything but normal. I wasn't just counting my dollars. I was counting my quarters, too. Those three loads of laundry, not to mention the detergent, had done a serious number on my daily food budget.
I didn't regret it. I couldn't. I'd rather skip a meal or two than sleep in someone else's filth.
Speaking of two meals, after the waiter left, I told Ryder, "That second steak – you know I'm not gonna eat it, right?"
"Sure, you will. And if you don't tonight, just call it breakfast."
Steak for breakfast was fine by me. But I was still waiting for the catch. I eyed him across the table and figured I might as well just say it. "You're up to something."
"What?" he laughed. "Can't a guy buy a friend dinner?"
I considered what had landed me here in the first place. "I'm pretty sure this is against the rules."
"No, it's not. I ate your chips. This is payback, like I said."
When I said nothing in reply, he leaned back in his seat. "Man, you are suspicious." He frowned with mock sincerity. "And here in a small town. You're never gonna fit in that way."
"I'm not here to fit in," I reminded him, returning to steak number-one. "I'm just passing the time. That's all."
"Bullshit," he said. "From what I hear, you got a job."
My fork paused in mid-air. "And you know this, how?"
"I've got my sources. Did I mention it's a small town?"
I gave him a look. "You live in Chicago."
"You and me both. But it doesn't take long to make friends in a place like this ." He grinned. "Especially when you're me."
What could I say to that? Hell if I knew. Once again, I returned to the steak, figuring that a heaping helping of Ryder's bullshit was a small price to pay for the best meal I'd had in days.
I was preparing to spear another bite when he said with a laugh, "The way I hear it, I'm not the only one making friends."
I set down my fork. "Meaning?"
"Word is, you've got a thing going with that brunette at the bike shop."
Maisie. My brain conjured an image to go with his words. It was the kind of image that could get a guy thinking if he wasn't careful. And I'd done far too much of that already.
I reached for the whiskey. "Then you heard wrong."
"If you say so."
"I do."
With a chuckle, he asked, "Is it true you're working for food?" He gave me a significant look. "Because I've got some stuff that needs doing."
Sure, he did. "Like what?"
"Remember that barista?"
"Which one?" I asked.
"Raisin Girl."
Oh. Her. "Yeah, what about her?"
He leaned forward. "Who is she?"
I took a lingering sip of the whiskey, savoring its warmth on the way down. "How should I know?"
"The way I hear it, she's living with your boss."
I didn't have a boss, not the way I saw it. I had a place to pass the time and some cranberry-free sandwiches to preserve my cash. Even so, I knew exactly who Ryder meant.
Maisie. Again. I set down my glass. "So they're roommates?"
I hadn't thought to ask Maisie about her living situation – or anything else about her, really. I'd kept it surface-level on purpose. It was the way I'd wanted it, but suddenly I wasn't so sure.
What else was I missing?
Ryder studied me across the table. "You didn't know?"
"Why would I?" I said. "I've known her all of two days."
"Three," he corrected. "There was that thing at the dock."
The dockside duffel argument felt like ages ago. "Fine. Call it two and a half. But she never mentioned a roommate."
"What, you've never been to her place?" He waggled his eyebrows. "Don't tell me you do it above the boathouse."
Asshole. "We're not 'doing it' at all." And then there was the thing I didn't say. Even if we were, we wouldn't be doing it in a reeking boathouse with a bed that creaked like a prop in a low-budget porno.
Just the thought of it pissed me off. Maisie was a decent person and deserved better. I gave Ryder a hard look. "Just for the record, I don't see where it's any of your business."
This only made him laugh. "Since when do you get shy?"
It was a fair question. I had never been one to brag about my exploits, but I hadn't kept them under wraps either. But that was then, this was now.
The thing with Maisie was different. One – it wasn't true. Two – even if it were, I still wouldn't want her name dragged through the gutter like she didn't matter.
Shit. Maybe the small town was rubbing off. Or maybe it was Maisie. Either way, this whole jacked-up adventure wasn't going how I'd planned.
To Ryder, I said, "Since when do you get nosy?"
"Nosy?" He laughed. "A few days, and you're picking up the lingo. Small towns, am I right?"
Forget the town. I'd probably picked up the word from Maisie, whether I realized it or not. But this wasn't something Ryder needed to know. "Fine," I gritted out. "Since when do you get curious?"
"I'm always curious," he said. "But hey, I'm glad you asked, because there's something I want you to find out."
Now I was the curious one. "Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah." His tone grew serious. "What's up with the barista?"
At this point, I was just glad he hadn't mentioned Maisie. "Raisin Girl."
"Yeah. Her. She looks familiar." He frowned. "And I wanna know why."