I huffed out a strangled laugh. “Ryan, Caleb—Caleb, Ryan.”
She gave him a small nod. “Hey.”
I took one of the bags and crossed my apartment. “Caleb, wait one second.” I dumped the bag on my small kitchen island and crossed to my mini apothecary. I’d had to make up a little something for my own sunburn the other day. I snatched the little jar off my shelf and ran back to the door.
He was waiting just outside my door, a polite smile on his face as Ryan blocked the threshold.
I rolled my eyes and elbowed her aside. “Take this.”
His brows were knit once more. “What’s that?”
“A mix of aloe and cucumber lotion.”
He lifted it to his nose and sniffed. “Why would I want this?”
“For the sunburn that is going to hurt like a bitch when you’re not so numb.”
“Oh.” He gave me a sweet smile. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
He leaned to the side a bit. “Are you having Rusty Spoon food?”
“We are.”
He sniffed the air. “Smells good.” He rubbed his flat belly. “I could sure use some fries.” He sighed. “And Mitch’s meatloaf.”
Ryan crossed her arms under her chest and gave me a long look. “Happens to be Luna’s favorite too.”
“Only for hangovers,” I said and pushed Ryan back inside the door. “Okay, Caleb. We’ll see you later.”
“You don’t want to share?” His expression was hopeful.
He was far too attractive for his own good. Or mine.
“Nope.” I closed my door, then pressed my forehead against it. He was way too cute and I would not be charmed.
“He’s pretty cute.”
Of course Ryan had to agree with me. Then again, we agreed on a lot. Minus our preferences in men. Those usually diverged.
“He just moved in.” I gave her a breezy smile and went for the bags. “Thanks for the hangover food. I am finally starving.”
“So, we’re not going to talk about the hottie next door?”
I unearthed one of the tins from the bag and peeled back the paper top. “Fries come to me.” I reached for the paper bowl of gravy and took them both to the table.
“That’s very interesting. Not even going to deny that he’s hot?”
I shoved two more fries in my face. “I mean, you have eyes, and you know,” I stopped to chew, “attraction is subjective.”
“I didn’t mention I was attracted, just that he was hot.” Ry grabbed a plate and unloaded her food from the containers to eat like a human.
I stared at my fries and picked out an extra long one. “You’re not attracted?”
Ryan set her plate down, took down glasses, then unearthed my electric wine opener from the drawer. She knew where everything was since she’d helped me move in, and she was at my apartment almost as much as she was at her own. “Jock dudes aren’t exactly my style. They actually aren’t usually yours, either.”
I sighed. “No, they aren’t. And he’s not a jock—he’s a teacher, actually.”