Clara grinned as she took the bouquet. “Thanks, Mildred. Have a lovely day. And I hope you don’t get any more customers like the last one.”
“Me too, Clara. Me too.”
Clara stepped outside and smelled the flowers. Holy flaming God, they smelled good. Maybe irises would be her new peonies?
She was about to climb into the car to go get her croissant but stopped. It was a nice day. Why would she drive?
Flowers in hand, she walked, still smiling when she reached The Tea House. That smile widened when she stepped inside because there, in the display case, was one almond croissant left…and it had her name on it.
She was halfway to the counter when Mrs. Gerald took out the croissant.
“No.” She’d meant to say that in her head, but the word just slipped out of her, along with any hope she had of eating the croissant.
Mrs. Gerald looked up and cringed. “Sorry, dear, I didn’t know you were coming in. I just sold it.”
She stopped at the counter. “To who?” Maybe she could bribe them into selling it to her. She probably had a twenty, or at least a ten, in her purse. Or maybe some coins, but hey, some people would do anything for free cash. Or maybe she could Venmo them?
“To me.”
She gasped at the deep voice.
Before she could turn, a large figure came to stand beside her.
Then she looked way up into Holden’s hazel eyes. “Hey.” Her voice was breathy and nervous…everything shedidn’twant.
“Hey, Clara.” That familiar smile stretched across his lips.
Had he gotten even prettier today? Because he looked prettier.
“I see you bought the last almond croissant.” That was better. Less breathy and minimal heat to her cheeks.
“I did.”
She nibbled her bottom lip. “You know, Ilovealmond croissants.”
“Really?”
“They’ve kind of become an obsession of mine.” She eyed the cake display. “The rhubarb pie looks good.”
“It does.”
God, he was really going to make her ask? “What do you want for it?”
One side of his mouth lifted. “You’re bribing me for my croissant?”
“Ten bucks.”
“You really think I can be bought off so easily?”
“Fifteen.” Did she have fifteen dollars? In her bank account, she did.
He chuckled before turning to Mrs. Gerald. “I’ll change my order to pie. Clara can have the croissant.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” He studied the flowers in her hands, a frown forming between his brows. “Are they from someone?”
“Yeah. Me.”
