Rip shook his head before he shoved his chair back and got to his feet. I flashed him a closed-mouth smile that I was pretty sure he recognized as not being totally authentic. But he lifted his hand up, and before I could even blink, his fingers pinched a loose strand of hair off my cheek and tucked it behind my ear, the pad rubbing against the sensitive skin right behind it. And just that quickly, his hand dropped. “Watch my food for me, yeah?” he asked. Had he just tucked my hair behind my ear or was my anger making me delusional?
