Her eyes roll. “You are.”
“So sue me.” I set the cup down, hands landing on my hips. “How many moms can say their daughter graduated summa cum laude?”
“It was Calloway Creek University, mom. Not Cornell.”
“Did someone say Cornell?”
We both turn to see a man standing at the counter. A very attractive man. Dark hair. Striking blue eyes. Face shaved so close you can see every angle of his jaw. He’s wearing khaki pants and a button-down long sleeve shirt. Wow, he reminds me of a younger Trevor.
He’s got at least a few years on Jordan. Mid-to-upper twenties, I’d say. New in town for sure.
He looks between us when neither of us speaks. Apparently Jordan is taken by his appearance as much as I am.
“Did one of you go there?”
When the silence starts becoming awkward, I elbow Jordan.
“Um, uh… no,” she says. “I was trying to explain to my mom how my graduation accolades aren’t as good as— You know what? Forget it. Can I take your order?”
Now it’s the man who goes silent as he looks right into Jordan’s eyes. Jordan smooths out her apron and swallows as she gazes back at him. Suddenly I feel like a voyeur into a private moment. Amused, I shift my attention to the next customer in line, keeping one eye and ear on the other register.
“You’re mother and daughter, huh?” the man asks, thumbing to the large marquee on the wall. “So you’re the Crisses who own this place?”
“Jordan Criss, at your service,” she practically sings.
His arm juts across the counter. “Finn Collins.”
I’m smiling way too broadly as I fill my order. I might even mistake whole milk for half-and-half as I strain to hear their conversation.
“You’re not from around here,” Jordan says.
“Just got to town yesterday. I’m starting a new job today.” He looks at his watch. “Well, in about ninety minutes. I guess I was sort of eager. But now I have time to kill.”
“So…” Jordan waves her arm at the pastry case. “Breakfast?”
When Finn smiles, his eyes practically sparkle. “I thought you’d never ask.”
She laughs and blushes.
Well, would you look at that. She’s completely smitten.
He peruses the breakfast offerings. “What’s good here?”
“Everything,” Jordan says proudly.
“Well then, what’s your favorite?”
She shrugs a shoulder, looking between him and the pastries. “Maybe the cream cheese coffee cake?”
“I’ll take two of those then, and an iced caramel macchiato please.”
My heart twists inside my chest when she says, “You have good taste. That’s my dad’s favorite.”
“Is it now? I guess I’ll have two of those as well.”
She draws her brows for a second then goes to fill his order.
“He’s cute,” I whisper when I pass her at the coffee machine.
