Get to know her better? She’d never set eyes on the man before.
She walked quickly into the back kitchen, plucking a menu from the wooden rack as she went, fanning herself with it. Her flushed cheeks had nothing to do with the morning sun streaming into the café, or the grills under which bacon sizzled.
Her sister, Jen, who still helped out at the café even though she no longer needed to, gave a low whistle. ‘Who’s that, Luce?’
Lucy faced her with a toss of her hair. ‘No idea.’
‘Oh, wow, so you fancy him.’
Lucy shot her a sardonic look. ‘Fancy? What are you, a teenager again?’
‘In my heart, yes.’
Lucy rolled her eyes. Her older sister certainly seemed to have shed years since she’d come back to New Zealand. It felt like a duty, as the younger sister, to be irritated — even while she was quietly thrilled.
‘And my teenage heart is now telling me my little sister completely fancies that man who strode over the road like a cowboy looking for his gal.’ Somehow Jen’s accent had morphed into Texan.
Lucy glared. ‘Stop it. You are terrible at accents.’
Nothing seemed to dent Jen’s good humour.
‘I don’t care, darlin’!’ Jen drawled as Lucy cringed. ‘Just sayin’ you seem peculiarly affected by that cowboy.’
Lucy swore under her breath and batted Jen away. ‘I can sack you, you know.’
Jen laughed. ‘No you wouldn’t. You like having me around. Admit it.’
Lucy sighed. ‘I admit I like having you around. But if this is what love does to you, you can count me out.’
‘Aw, you’ll fall in love one day.’ Jen flicked a brow up and nodded at the man at the window table, who was studiously ignoring a baby on her mother’s shoulder who was staring at him. ‘Maybe even with Mr Super-Smooth over there.’
‘I’m open to it,’ Lucy defended. ‘So long as my man respects my independence and?—’
‘And does whatever you tell him to.’
‘That goes without saying.’
She didn’t give Jen a chance to torture the accent further. Grabbing a carafe of water and glass, she carefully stepped over a sleeping cocker spaniel and greeted its owner, before holding out the menu to the stranger.
She opened her mouth to speak — then he turned from the window, and whatever she’d been about to say slipped neatly out of her head.
Those eyes. Green? Blue? Hazel? All she knew was they were threatening to unravel her.
His smile broadened and he sat back, looping an arm over the chair as if he were a Hollywood star dropping into a small-town café, entirely sure of his reception, ready for adoration.
‘Coffee, black, no sugar, thanks,’ he said. ‘If that was what you were about to ask.’
‘It was. Thank you for answering my question before I had a chance to ask it.’
‘No problem. I’m good like that. And I’ll have eggs Benedict, too. Smells tempting.’
‘They are. Very popular.’ She opened her mouth to say more, but her gaze dipped from his eyes to his mouth and her words vanished. What on earth was wrong with her?
She turned away without adding anything else and returned to the kitchen. She passed the order to the chef and, out of sight of the café patrons, groaned.
‘What’s up?’ asked Jen, the Texan accent forgotten.
‘It’s been too long.’
