Couples and trios and chatting families walked this way and that, but when she looked up the street to check on the line at the Fire Department’s hamburger station, a flash of red captured her attention.
Ryder was walking away from her, but abruptly he stopped and strode deliberately toward her tent. His eyes on the asphalt, he seemed to be talking to himself as he ran his hand roughly over his head.
When he looked up and locked eyes with her, he skidded to a stop with a wide-eyed look. Ryder glanced behind him as if debating an escape, and her stomach started hurting again. He didn’t want to be here. He was here out of politeness.
His ruddy brows furrowed, he wound through the crowd until he reached her. “Hey.”
Desperate to protect herself from rejection, Lexi said, “It’s okay. I’m super busy, and you probably want to try a bunch of food. We’ll just see each other around town sometime.”
Ryder looked dumbfounded. “What?”
Lexi puffed air out of her cheeks and then busied herself with making the next batch of mini-cheesesteaks. “You don’t look like you want to be here.”
“I don’t.”
No two words had ever felt like a pair of individual slaps before, but these did. “Then go.”
“I wasn’t going to come, but then I would be this asshole who didn’t follow through, and you deserve better than that. Better than me.”
“Oh, my gosh, okay. Enough. I get it. I really do. You can save your ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech. We don’t even know each other.”
“No, I mean, I’m gonna fuck this up,” Ryder said on a rushed breath.
Lexi froze, a strip of thinly sliced steak dangling from her tongs. Words escaped her, so Ryder tumbled on. “I’m not doing this right, and Wes told me to take it easy and slow and not to get attached, but you don’t seem like the type of lady a man avoids getting attached to, you know?”
“No,” she said, baffled. “I’m the exact type of woman a man can avoid getting attached to. Literally everyone I’ve ever dated gets bored and finds their wife immediately following a break-up with me.” Or sometimes during, like Ballsack Blake did.
Ryder shoved a mini-cheesesteak in his maw and around the bite said, “I eat when I’m nervous. Holy fuck, Sexy Lexi, this is good. Can I have another? I’m gonna have another.” He gulped and upended the contents of another plastic sample bowl into his maw. His chiseled jaw flexed with each chew. He apparently hadn’t shaved since they’d seen each other last, and fiery stubble glinted in the saturated sunlight.
No one in the history of the universe had ever looked this sexy eating cheese and meat.
He wore a white stretch T-shirt that made his blue eyes seem even brighter somehow. It was tight on his broad shoulders and slightly looser at his tapered waist. At least he’d lost the short shorts and was wearing medium-wash jeans today. The hem of his shirt had caught on the waistband of his pants and tucked in just slightly. He probably had an eight-pack or a ten-pack, or hell, maybe a twelve-pack. Did God make those?
“I like the way you’re staring at my dick, but you’re making the customers uncomfortable. Did you hear anything I said? Should I talk through my pener hole to keep your attention?”
The mayor and his two teenaged children were staring at Ryder with their mouths hanging open.
“Oh, my gosh, stop talking,” she whispered. Mortified, she pressed her clammy palms onto her cheeks to cool the searing blush there. “Mayer Hawkins, I’m so sorry.”
“Mayor Hawkins?” Ryder asked. Oh God, he was going to make this worse. But he reached over and shook the mayor’s hand and introduced himself like a normal person. “I’m Ryder Croy.”
Ronnie Hawkins, the mayor’s sixteen-year-old son, said, “Hey, I know you! I follow you online. You’re Air Ryder. The Air Ryder! Dad,” he said, turning his grin on his father, “he’s the snowy owl! He’s one of the Bloodrunners.”
“Aaah,” Mayor Hawkins said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I was actually wanting to welcome your crew to town.” He lowered his voice. “Between you and me, you did Bryson City a big favor when you chased the vamps out of the area. Aric was all right, but his coven was in trouble all the time.”
“Glad we could help,” Ryder said. He winked at Ronnie, who was gawking.
“Can I have your autograph? My girlfriend isn’t going to believe I talked to you if I don’t bring her proof.”
Ryder chuckled warmly. “Sure, kid.”
Stunned, Lexi fumbled for the pen she’d been using to tally how many samples she’d given out today and handed it to Ryder. He asked Ronnie his name and scribbled across a napkin, then signed his name like he’d done it a thousand times. Hell, maybe he had.
“Your mushrooms are burning,” Ryder said helpfully.
Lexi squawked and rushed to stir them. After she emptied the pan on the big griddle next to the steak and added cheese on top to melt, she looked up to find Ryder pulling on plastic gloves.
“Bark!”
Ryder spun around with a hopeful look on his face, but he frowned suspiciously at the champagne-colored Chihuahua sitting up in her cushy bed. “What is that?”
“That’s my dog, Sprinkles.”
“No ma’am,” he growled. “That’s two pounds wet and covered in pink jewels. Sprinkles?” He offered Lexi an offended glare. “That’s not a dog. It’s a husky hamster.”