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Those long legs he’d had wrapped around his waist were in black denim ripped at the knee that made them look a mile long. She wore an old sweatshirt in pale blue that hung off one shoulder, and she looked sexy as fuck.
He had it bad.
“They’re friends. Childhood friends. This place is full of them.”
Shay held up both hands. “I come in peace and promise not to hit on any of your friends. Can you make sure to point them out to me, so I know which ones they are?”
“Eat and shut up,” Ryan said, pointing at the plate in front of his friend.
“I haven’t seen that look on your face before.”
“What look?”
“The interested look. If I had to say which woman it was directed at, I’d go for the hot dark-haired one.”
Shit.
“Just a heads-up, bud. If she hears you call her hot, she’ll deck you.”
“And I’d probably deserve it if I said it so she could hear it.” His friend was studying Ryan closely. “So back to my question.”
“Nothing there, so stop fishing.”
“Coffee,” Buster said, lowering them to the table.
“Shay, this is Buster Griffin, also a childhood friend and apparently a fan of yours.”
Shay held out his hand with a comfortable smile on his face. He didn’t have to work at it; he genuinely loved people and meeting fans.
“Hey, man, nice to meet you. I’ve never had a chance to run into any of Ryan’s old friends. Got any dirt you can dish on him?”
“Plenty, but we have this code here in Lake Howling that we don’t spill on each other.”
Ryan sat back with his pie and took a large bite. He remembered that code and had to say he was happy about it right now.
“You’re kidding me.”
“No, it’s the truth. We can tell the good stuff, but not the juicy embarrassing stuff.” Buster looked annoyed he couldn’t dish the dirt on Ryan.
“But there is stuff you have on him?”
“Shay, you could fill an entire book, starting with his first day of school, on Ryan.”
“Back at you,” Ryan said.
“And there’s the problem.” Buster sighed.
“Hi.” Macy approached with Faith, who Ryan could see was clearly reluctant to follow her friend.
“Shay O’Malley, this is Macy Reynolds and Faith Harris, more old school friends.”
“And I suppose you live by this pact too? No telling tales to anyone who is not a local about what you all got up to in your youth?”
“Of course. And as I have a lot of dirt under my carpet, I’m happy about that,” Macy said.
Ryan watched Faith place a hand on her friend’s back. A small gesture saying that she was there and understood how hard some of Macy’s life had been.
The friends in this town were genuine, Ryan thought. Tight and connected. Not always comfortable, but important.
