“Fine,” I said, putting my card away. “But I’ll get you next time.”
“Sure.” The girl gave Ryder his change back and dropped some of the coins and a few bills on the counter. She seemed more flustered than bored now.
“No worries,” Ryder said, giving her a smile and scooped everything up as she tried to help him. He dropped the lot in the tip jar and she thanked him.
“Buy yourself something nice.” She blushed again and stared at him until the next customer cleared their throat.
I walked to the other end of the counter to wait for our orders. “You’re shameless,” I said.
“What are you talking about?”
I rolled my eyes at him. “You know what I’m talking about. You flirt with everyone.”
“Do I?” He pretended to be surprised.
I smacked him in the chest. “Shut up, you know you do.”
“Huh. News to me.”
Our orders arrived and we sat at a tiny table near the window that was unoccupied. Ryder added tons of honey to his tea and spent a long time stirring it before he sipped. I had mine straight up.
“So, what the hell is a cronut?” he asked, staring at it like it was something poisonous.
“It’s a cross between a croissant and a donut. It’s a new thing.” I picked mine up and took a bite. I hated jumping on trendy bandwagons, but these things were delicious.
“Huh. What do you know? I guess I missed that one.” He picked his up and took a tentative bite, like a kid being asked to try Brussels sprouts for the first time. He chewed and thought about it before he swallowed. ”Fucking delicious.” He smiled and finished the thing in a few more bites.
“Thought so,” I said, eating my own cronut a little more slowly.
We sipped our tea, and I tried not to stare at Ryder, but he was definitely staring at me.
“Do I have something on my face?” I asked. I really hoped I didn’t have something on my face. How embarrassing.
“No. Just looking at you. You’re nice to look at. I can’t help it.” His words nearly knocked me over. He said it so casually.
“Oh.” I looked down into my tea and hoped my face wasn’t too red.
“I like it when you blush,” he said, finishing the last of his tea and setting the empty cup down.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to stare?” I said, and I finally looked up. Yup, he was still staring.
“Yes. But, as you’ve noticed, I don’t exactly follow rules for normal social behavior.” Wasn’t that the truth? Ryder just sort of did whatever he wanted, regardless of what other people thought. It was one of the things I liked so much about him. Confidence is sexy.
“Hmm,” I said, finishing my tea.
Ryder sat back and stopped staring at me, watching the people walk by.
“Sometimes I just like to go to public places and watch people walk by. I try to guess what kind of lives they lead based on their clothes and how they walk. Do you ever do that?” His eyes came back to me.
“Sometimes. Mostly I just criticize their outfits.” Some people walked around like they dressed in the dark. Or had no fashion sense. Or both. It was a battle not to go up to them and give them a fashion intervention. Thankfully, I had all my friends trained and they had excellent taste in clothing. Or at least they did after I’d gone through their wardrobes and told them what to wear and what to never, ever wear again.
“I can imagine that. So, how about my outfit?” he said, holding his arms out and gesturing to his clothes. He had to know he looked good in his distressed jeans, black motorcycle boots and faded band t-shirt. Add to that the tattoos on his arms and his messy hair, and he was a sight to behold. A beautiful ginger sight.
“Fishing for compliments, are we?” I asked, folding my arms.
“No. I really want to know.” No he didn’t. The impish gleam in his eye told me that he was messing with me.
“You know you look good, Ryder. You don’t have to even try.” He’d look good no matter what he wore. Well, maybe not sandals and socks. But he’d probably rock those, too.