Page 70 of Ransom
He looked at the pile. "Christ, Ranger."
"Couldn't remember which one you took."
"Vanilla."
"I'll never forget." I sat down on the bed next to him and dug a doughnut out of the bag. "I bought doughnuts."
"You know…" he started.
"Yes, I know what people say about cops and doughnuts. I bought them anyway. I committed to the bit." I held one out to him. "Eat something. You look like hell."
He took it and ate it standing up while I dug my flask out of my back pocket. I unscrewed it and tipped a healthy slug into my coffee, recapped it, and held it out to him.
He looked at the flask. He looked at me.
I shrugged.
He held out his cup.
I tipped some into his. He took a drink, swallowed, looked at the cup, and took another drink.
"That'll do," he said.
"Mm-hmm."
He sat back down on the bed beside me. We drank our coffees, ate doughnuts, and didn't say anything for a minute. The room was quiet except for the wall unit pushing cold air around. I tore the cinnamon roll in half, handed him the bigger piece, and he ate it without comment.
"You ever come down to Texas, I'll buy you a real cinnamon roll," I said. "There's this little Mexican grandma in El Paso. Runs a bakery down by the Chinese grocery. She makes 'em as big as newborn. Hand to God."
"You can't eat a cinnamon roll that big. Nobody can."
I shrugged. "Somebody must. Otherwise, why would she make it?"
"Bragging rights."
I tipped my sunglasses down and raised an eyebrow at him. "Bragging rights?"
Now it was his turn to shrug. "Texas has got to have something to brag about. Might as well be the cinnamon rolls. Y'all don't have a lot else goin' for you down there."
"Bullshit," I said and cleaned the powdered sugar from my hands. "We got steak. Good steaks, too. Bigger than your head, Ransom, and that's saying something."
"Size ain't everything, you know."
"Ransom, there are two places in this world where size absolutely counts. One of 'em's in Texas. Other's in the bedroom, so you best count yourself lucky I put up with you."
"Not what you were saying last night," he muttered and smirked at me over his coffee.
I gave him a light shove.
He grinned to himself and went on drinking his coffee.
A phone rang. I reached for mine, but it was dead.
Ransom set the coffee on the nightstand and fished the phone out.
He looked at the screen and his jaw tightened. "Rafe." He took the call sitting on the edge of the bed with his boots on. "What's up?"
I set my own coffee down on the nightstand, slid off the bed onto my knees in front of him, and got my hands on his belt buckle. He cut his eyes down at me and shook his head once sharply. I ignored it. He'd known what he was getting into when he climbed into bed with me.
