Briggs pointed at her. “I respect that lie.”
The waitress appeared with a coffee pot and the tired expression of a woman who had seen enough college athletes to know we were either excellent tippers or a problem. “You all ready?”
Cade ordered for Bliss without looking at the menu. Bliss ordered anyway just to correct him on bacon quantity. Briggs ordered enough food to require structural support. Rider ordered eggs and toast like a man allergic to joy. Ryan ordered black coffee and waffles, and Charm looked at him with quiet horror.
“What?” Ryan asked.
“Black coffee?”
“Yes.”
“You live like a man with no soft furniture.”
He stirred nothing into it, his eyes on her. “You offering to improve me?”
Charm took a slow sip of her heavily sweetened coffee. “I don’t take on charity projects before noon.”
Briggs froze, then leaned back against the booth. “That was a body shot.”
Ryan smiled into his mug. “She likes me.”
Charm’s cheeks went pink. “You’re loud for a man drinking sadness water.”
I glanced between them, and the little flicker in Charm’s face hit differently than it would have a week ago. It wasn’t only flirtation. It wasn’t only smug, pretty Charm enjoying the attention of a tattooed hockey player who looked at her like he knew exactly how many walls she had and how much patience he had for them.
There was longing there.
Quiet. Careful. Terrified of being noticed.
Ryan looked away first, but not before his gaze softened on her in a way that made my chest pinch.
Interesting and very much not my business, which meant Bliss and I would be discussing it in a bathroom within ten minutes.
The waitress left with our orders, and Briggs reached across the table to steal a creamer from Rider’s side.
Rider caught his wrist without looking. “Use your own.”
“I need dairy.”
“You ordered four waffles.”
“Those are structural carbohydrates.”
Ryan leaned back, his arm still along the booth, his fingers tapping once against the cracked vinyl. “Speaking of structural support, I need to ask you all something.”
The shift in his voice was small, but everyone at the table heard it. Even Briggs stopped trying to liberate the creamer.
Easton looked across at him. “What’s up?”
Ryan lifted his coffee, took one sip, then set it down like he’d needed something to do with his hands. “Flint Frost has the rivalry game of all rivalry games the Friday after Thanksgiving. Flint Frost versus Minnesota Ice, home game at Frozen LakeArena. It’s already sold out, but I can get tickets, and there are cabins close by if you guys want to come up for the weekend.”
Briggs’s face lit. “Cabins?”
“With heat,” Ryan said.
“That felt targeted.”
“It was.”
