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Don't Forget Me Tomorrow(12)

Author:A.L. Jackson

I followed her line of sight to catch Ryder staring our way before he turned his head back to something Caleb said.

“Hardly.” I scoffed it as I focused on organizing their drinks on a tray because what she was insinuating was totally absurd, all while I fought the tingly sensation that billowed across the room.

Picking up the tray, I started around the counter, and she hollered after me, “You keep trying to convince yourself he’s not salivating for a taste of that cute butt of yours.”

I cringed.

Awesome.

She’d announced it to half the restaurant.

No doubt, someone was currently calling my mom to speculate just who was salivating.

And I wasn’t sure my butt could be called cute. There was a whole lot of junk in my trunk, but I did have to admit it looked pretty damn good in this dress. The red fabric shifting around my thighs and the v of the neckline dipping between my breasts.

My gaze fixated on the table I was walking toward. The three of them were some of the closest people to me in my life. Still, I always felt like I was chasing down a storm every time I stepped into Ryder’s vicinity.

The man his own brand of chaos where he sat there looking both raw and smooth.

I didn’t know how it was possible, but he made it look easy.

Stepping up to their table, I passed out their drinks. “Here we go.”

A round of thanks went up, and I eased back, doing my best to ignore the energy that forever vibrated from Ryder.

Intense and severe and somehow effortless.

Enigmatic.

Entrancing.

I cleared my throat. “Do you know what you want to eat today?”

“Tell me more about that Monte Cristo,” Ryder said, turning the full force of his attention on me.

I fiddled with the end of my ponytail. “Well, I can’t take credit for this recipe since it’s pretty traditional—ham and swiss stuffed between two pieces of French toast, dipped in batter, and deep fried, then coated in powdered sugar and served with a side of homemade raspberry jam.”

Even still, it was freaking delicious. Done my own special way because I’d never serve something mediocre or mundane.

Apparently, Ryder agreed with the philosophy, because he groaned and scrubbed an inked palm over his face. “Fuck me. Sounds so good, Dakota.”

I had to hold back the whimper that threatened to escape.

Why did it always have to come out like sex on his lips?

“It seems like you want me to feed you.”

So maybe I was going to keep some of those fantasies, and I couldn’t help but play off what Beth had said, loving the way those eyes were taking me in like he didn’t want to look anywhere else.

He let go of a rough chuckle. “Thinking that’s exactly what I want.”

Tingles spread, prickles that kissed along my flesh.

Sometimes he made me think…

A menu suddenly slapped down on the table, and I jerked to find Ezra grinning my way. “Hell, yeah, give me one of those, too. I’m not about to pass that up.”

“No reason to change a good thing,” Caleb agreed.

I gathered their menus then dipped my head. “All right then, three Monte Cristos are on their way.”

“Thanks, Dakota.”

“Always,” I said as I turned to head back to the kitchen to put in their order.

I wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but there was something that tripped me up.

Stalled me out.

Something I caught out of the corner of my eye at the very edge of the windows that ran the far side of the building.

A shadow or a shape or a figure.

Disquiet washed through me.

This penetrating awareness that covered me in a sticky film of dread and sent a cold shiver curling down my spine.

One blink later, it was gone.

I blinked more, uncertainty filling me as I stared out the window overlooking a grassy area backed by trees.

Nothing was there.

I shook myself out of it, realizing I had to have been seeing things, making it up, and I wound back through the tables, pushing through the kitchen door to the bustle of activity on the other side.

Paisley was right—I was really letting those true crime podcasts get the best of me.

SIX

RYDER

I couldn’t help but watch Dakota walk across the dining room, the way she weaved between the tables, offering smiles to the customers she recognized as she went.

Red fabric flowed around her hips and swished around her lush thighs, the woman this force that was hard to look away from.

But I hadn’t missed the shift in the air. The way she’d stumbled and froze a beat.

But when I’d looked behind me, I couldn’t find anything amiss.

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