“They’re amazing,” I tell him around a mouthful of apples and sugar.
“Better than Miss Laura’s?” This time, his question sounds almost sheepish.
Lucy is already eyeing another one as she sucks glaze off her fingers. “Oh, fuck Miss Laura. You can stay.”
“Lucy!” I gape at her.
She scowls and waves me off, tearing the corner off another pastry.
Oliver laughs to himself, running a large hand through his hair. “I’ll take it.” Then he turns his full attention on me, gaze focused on the way I’m licking glaze off my thumb with such concentration it makes my thighs clench. “So, what’s tonight’s event?”
I swallow hard and clear my throat, sitting up a little straighter. Just like that, a stray crumb on my skirt becomes the most fascinating thing in the store. “Cooking competition. Chilis, pies, barbecue, you name it. Even cake decorating.”
He leans against the counter, crossing one ankle over the other and nodding along as I talk. “Well, that sounds like a can’t-miss event.”
“It is. As a baker, I’m sure you’ll love it. Plus, it will give you a great chance to meet the rest of the town’s business owners. Like Charissa, she owns the bar and has a beer garden every year.”
“Oh, please tell me one of your hosting perks tonight is a free pint.” There’s a mischievous gleam in his eyes, and it’s easy to tell what he’s really asking—if that hosting perk comes with a plus one, as it has the last two nights.
I cut a glance at Lucy, who’s biting into her third fritter. From behind Oliver’s shoulder, she gives him an obvious look and raises a warning eyebrow at me.
I suppress a pout. “Actually, I’ll be busy tonight playing judge. You’ll have to make the rounds yourself.” I try to add a cold edge to the words to make the brush-off clear. Even to my own ears, though, I sound forlorn about my hosting duties.
Out of the corner of my eye, Lucy tips her head and gives me a flat stare.
I can practically hear her voice in my head.Seriously? That’s the best you can do?
“Oh.” Oliver’s posture droops all the same, and his dimple disappears, making my heart sink. “No problem. Maybe after?”
It takes all my self-control not to cringe. Instead, I bite my lip, doing everything to look at anything that isn’t him because I know I’m one more disappointedohaway from taking it all back. There’s something about a large man with the eyes of a sad puppy that makes my heart want to snatch him up and make everything okay.
But even in the minutes he’s been here, the magic is starting to build. We aren’t even touching, and there’s a buzzing in the air as if the magic is the villain in an old-timey cartoon, rubbing its hands together with a malicious grin and waiting for its plan to unfold.
“No can do. As one of the judges, I have to stay late.” It takes a significant amount of effort to keep a melancholy edge from my tone. Even if I wasn’t blowing Oliver off, I’d still be dreading tonight.
Initially, playing the judge at an all-night cooking competition sounded like the biggest perk of playing host. Now, after a night of no sleep, with an already drained social battery, it was taking everything in me not to call in sick like a kid trying to get out of a test.
Oliver’s brows furrow, and I know I’m being the queen of mixed signals right now. In a matter of days, we’ve gone from strangers to flirty dates to almost kissing, and now I’m giving him the cold shoulder. He’s about to say something else when the doorbell chimes, announcing a customer.
I hop up and beeline for the front desk, desperate for a large group that needs my undivided attention.
Instead, I find a young couple. A young woman in a Halloween-themed dress drops her girlfriend’s hand and goes straight for the history section, clearly on a mission. The other hangs back, looking only mildly out of place as she browses the front table filled with stickers, pins, candles, trinkets, and an assortment of themed staff picks.
“Hello! Welcome to Moonlit Pages. Can I help you find anything?” I give the woman my cheeriest customer service voice, silently imploring Oliver to take the hint and leave before anything bizarre happens.
She grins back. “No thanks. Just looking around.”
My smile turns strained, and I seriously contemplate begging her to let me help her find something, or if that would be too pathetic. Before I can decide, she turns away to go look for her girlfriend. Reluctantly, I spin on my heel to head back to the front desk and find Oliver leaning there, watching me with a dubious expression.
I skirt around him, brushing a stray strand of black hair behind my ear to avoid his gaze and make my way behind the desk. I busy myself with refilling our take-a-chance gum ball machine that gives people a book recommendation at random. At least, that’s how it’s advertised. In reality, it’s been charmed to give recommendations based on the customer’s mood. Like a bookish mood ring.
Oliver leans across the desk until we’re at eye level and lowers his voice for only me to hear.
“Is everything okay?”
I have to physically bite my tongue to keep from spilling everything and instead say, “Of course. I’m just really busy.”
Oliver makes a show of glancing around at the mostly empty store before turning his attention back to me. “I’m sorry if I crossed a line last night. I . . . Well, I thought . . . Actually, it doesn’t matter what I thought. What matters is that I clearly made you uncomfortable and?—”
