Page 81 of Connor's Claim
“Not many give a tip because they think it goes to the bosses and not the workers,” the delivery guy chattered on. Glacier-slow, he reached for his insulated bag. “It doesn’t, though. Not like in restaurants or pubs. All of it goes to us, minus a cut to the app but that isn’t much.”
“That’s great. If ye could just…” I made ‘hurry’ hands.
After my manic moment with the tracker, my impulses had calmed some. I’d tried to limit how often I checked his location, knowing that way lay dragons. My oversight cost me now.
With a casual stroll, Riordan appeared behind the man, right as he was pulling out the bag. “I’ll help Cassie with that.”
“Such a gentleman!” Delivery Douche handed it straight over. To him.
I dropped my expression to a glower. The courier walked away, whistling, and Riordan stared down at me, my bag on his outstretched finger like the amount of food I’d bought didn’t weigh a ton.
“Can I please have my dinner?” I asked.
“After we’ve had a chat,” he said.
Heaving a sigh, I turned around, keeping the door open for him with my foot. “Fine.”
He followed me inside, a huge tree of a man in leathers and dark energy. “Glad to hear you can be reasonable.”
“You’re holding my food hostage. What choice do I have?”
The security guard hustled back down the corridor to his desk, not even glancing at Riordan.
“At least raise the visor,” I grouched when we rounded the corner.
“You know I’ll get kicked out if I’m seen.”
“Oh no, ye guessed my plan.”
We entered the back stairwell and climbed. The scent of my food swirled under my nose, and I briefly considered snatching it and running. Except if I dropped it in the scuffle, I’d cry. If I touched Riordan in the fuss, I’d probably lose my mind, too.
The stairs took us up to the fifth floor. Through the doors, we entered the now-quiet corridor, and Riordan finally slid up the reflective visor covering his eyes. I ignored my spike of lust at how stupidly pretty he was, even in the narrow view I’d been gifted.
My crush’s green eyes had featured in my dreams.
Along with other parts of him.
Resisting a melt into a puddle of lust, I prowled down to my room. Inside, I gazed around as if my obsession with him had somehow become evidenced by a detective’s wall of furtively taken photos and local maps. Luckily for me, it was all concealed in my head and my phone.
Riordan kicked the door closed behind him then set down my food and removed his helmet entirely, his leather jacket following to reveal a close-fitting black t-shirt that stretched over his thick biceps. He ruffled his messy brown hair, finger-combing it into a shape that had no right to look so artful.
Annoyed, I kicked off my flip-flops and toed the floor. “Can I have my dinner now?”
The biker folded his arms, taking a wide-legged stance that tall men sometimes did to lower their height when talking to someone shorter. My brother, Sin, did it with Lottie, his wife. For some reason, that endearing gesture chipped a hole in my frosty exterior.
“Not until we clear a few things up. Did Moniqua put you up to damaging my bike?”
I blinked at him. “Your girlfriend who lurched from the shadows earlier like a rancid ghoul?”
“Not my girlfriend, but yes, the same ghoul.”
Not his girlfriend? My belly butterflies did a happy dance. “I’ve never even spoken to her, and I wasn’t trying to hurt your motorbike.”
His brow furrowed. A week or so ago, I’d watched Divergent and lusted over Theo James. Riordan had the same quiet, brooding confidence. He was way more handsome, too, which I blamed for why I did stupid things around him.
“Then you’re not trying to do me harm?” he pressed.
“Never.” My stomach rumbled. I clamped my hands to it. “Please, can I eat? We can share.”