“Nothing wrong with third place!” Zaid pipes up, shuttling a tray of dough into the oven.
Alex and I both grunt. We used to play games together all the time, and it could get... fierce. At the time, we had affection for each other to round out our competitive edges.
Not so, anymore.
I study him sidelong, wishing he weren’t so good-looking, trying to find fault but unable to come up with any. Physically, anyway. He’s a little above average height, average build. He’s got strong arms (probably a result of his career) but isn’t ripped, his torso is a little thicker in a way that I like. And then, of course, there are those stupidly attractive eyes rimmed with dark lashes. A hard jaw. A pouty mouth that makes him look like he’s simmering on the inside.
“Let’s hurry it up,” he says, as I pore over the selection of iced, colorful treats. To Bushra: “I’ll have the Danish.”
“You’ll have the Danish,please,” I add tartly.
He mumbles aplease,throwing me an irritated look for calling out his lack of manners when he used to call out other people fortheirlack of manners, and I’d bet anything he still does.
In spite of wanting to speed this up so that we can advanceto number three—What lovebirds! He built her a house and decorated it—Alex trying to rush me while I choose my sweet is a cheese grater against my nerves.
“Hmmm.” I tap the glass display case. “What do I want... what do I want...”
Alex opts not to give his food to a sweetheart and practically swallows it whole, like a snake. “Have the Danish.”
“No, I don’t think so...” I glance up at Bushra in her lilac headscarf and matching lipstick, taking pains not to meet Alex’s burning stare. “What’s your special of the day?”
She brushes the flour on her palms onto her apron. “Cherry turnovers.”
“Mm. Hm hm hm, la te da te da.” I tap the glass some more, drumming a tune. “I’m not in the mood for cherries. What about pineapple upside-down cake? You got any of that?”
Alex shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “For the love of god.”
Bushra bites her lip. “No, I’m afraid. We do have pineapple-cherry dump cake, but... it has cherries in it.”
I beam. “Sounds perfect!”
Alex provides a dramatic backdrop, stare withering, as I stab a plastic fork into my dessert and eat it one tiny bite at a time. I’ll be my own sweetheart today, too. I circle the bakery at a leisurely pace, stepping one tile at a time, chitchatting with every customer who comes in. Finally, he has enough. “Can we get moving now?”
“Sure, I’ve been waiting on you,” I reply brightly, pointing at the gooey contents of my bowl. “This is delicious. You want some?”
He makes an exasperated noise, pushing out the door.
Chapter Nine
SCARLET GERANIUM:
I do not trust you.
Mr. Pike?” I guess as we walk. “He builds houses.”
“For a living. Not for someone he loves, and he doesn’t decorate.”
“Well, I don’t hear you throwing out suggestions.”
He clasps his hands behind his back, surveying the road with airy haughtiness. “That’s because I already know the answer.”
I wait for him to tell me what it is.
“Well?”
“No, I think I’ll give you a chance to catch up. See if you can guess correctly.”
I stare at him. He keeps his gaze even, features terse. Almostdaring, like he hopes I’ll argue with him some more. “Are you kidding me?”
