“You asshole!” Baker said low but heatedly.
“What did I do wrong?” Reno asked, but Baker could see the spark of mischievousness in Reno’s brown eyes. The bastard.
“Why didn’t you just throw me up on the table and have sex with me?”
Reno leaned forward, his jaw tight. “Don’t tempt me. I’m this close”—his index and thumb were barely separated—“from fucking you anywhere I can get you. The table will do just fine.”
“Like hell.” Baker stood. He could tell that Reno was dead serious and Baker was leaving before the coyote delivered on his threat. He knew going out to lunch had been a bad idea. The guy was mentally screwed up, and Baker shouldn’t have expected anything less than what Reno had just shown him.
“Sit down,” Reno huffed as he grabbed Baker’s arm and pulled. “I’ll behave.”
“That’s like a scorpion promising not to sting,” Baker countered as he flopped back down on the booth seat. “I seriously think it’s in your nature to act like an ass.”
Reno became quiet. Baker wondered why, but didn’t ask. They remained that way until their food arrived, but Reno still didn’t speak a word. He sat there quietly and ate. The guy wouldn’t even look Baker’s way. Why in the hell did Baker feel bad? He hadn’t done anything wrong.
Baker felt guilty, just like when the cops had questioned Reno. He wanted to make things better between them. He was also questioning his sanity. As Baker stole glances at Reno, he would swear the man looked hurt and just a tad pissed off.
Baker pushed his food around on his plate, no longer hungry. Reno was his damn stalker, and Baker felt bad for hurting the man’s feelings. It didn’t make one lick of sense to him, but that was how he was feeling.
Like crap.
Reno got up from the table and walked over to the counter. It looked like he was paying their bill. Glancing at the table, Baker could see that Reno hadn’t even finished his lunch. It was barely touched.
“Ready?” Reno asked when he walked back over, his expression inscrutable.
Baker pushed from the booth and followed him out to the parking lot. He felt compelled to say something, anything to stop Reno from being mad at him. “I’m sorry.” The two words would cover anything he might have said to offend Reno.
The shifter gave a tight nod, but still wouldn’t say anything. Baker grabbed him by the arm and pulled until Reno turned. “I was embarrassed. I felt like my dad was chastising me when that guy said something to us about going hot and heavy in his restaurant. What do you want me to say?”
Baker took a step back when Reno balled his hands into fists. The guy looked mad enough to punch something—namely Baker.
“We’re mates. What we do is no one’s concern but ours.”
“It is if we are in their place of business,” Baker said.
Reno spun around, letting lose a litany of curse words. “I am a coyote, Baker. The subspecies I belong to goes through something sacred called the mating dance. You might think me an ass, but I’m only acting on what nature made me. I’m sorry if it embarrasses or frightens you, but that’s who I am.”
Baker felt the lashes of Reno’s words like a whip. They cut deep as he stood there gazing up into espresso eyes. “And I’m human, Reno. Did you expect me to just say, ‘Hey, okay, you need to stalk me and publicly molest me? That’s fine.’ I’ve never had anyone act this way toward me and it’s a little overwhelming.” Baker shook his head. “No, it’s a lot overwhelming.”
Reno opened his mouth, but no words came out. Not when they both noticed the cop car pulling into the lot and stopping right in front of them.
There was only one cop, and it was the same one that had been in front of Baker’s apartment, and at Sweet Delight. What was this guy’s problem?
“Causing trouble?”
Baker wasn’t sure who he was talking to. The cop was looking between them both.
“No,” Reno answered, moving a step closer to Baker. He wasn’t sure why Reno was doing that, but admittedly, it made Baker feel better knowing Reno was right next to him.
“No problems,” Baker answered nervously. Reno took another small step and Baker realized he was now standing slightly behind the coyote.
“It seems like a dispute to me,” the cop said, walking closer, his eyes narrowed at Reno.
“We’re not fighting,” Baker said quickly. “We just had lunch and were headed back to work.”
The cop raked his eyes from Reno’s head, down to his booted feet. He looked like he was itching to bust Reno with something. Baker could feel his palms getting wet as he stood there, wondering what the cop was going to do.