Nothing had ever sounded more romantic.
He jerked his chin to beckon me over, and I ran to him, clothes flapping in my arms. I barely noticed the little bag from The Cake Warehouse hanging around his wrist and a coffee cup in that hand until I crashed into him—paper crinkling and liquid sloshing near my ears.
“Careful, pidge,” he said, shifting to hug me better.
I blanketed him in silks and lace, burying my face against his warm, solid chest. I closed my eyes and sighed, ready to melt into his sweet-scented embrace. “Angel…”
Giselle cried, “Ah-ah-ah,” from behind the cashier’s desk, phone in hand. “No food or drink allowed,” she commanded.
“Un instant, s'il vous plait,” he said, clasping his hands the best he could with his treats.
“You speak French?” I asked.
“Un petit.” He shrugged.
“Sois prudent, monsieur,” Giselle warned.
“Je vas.” He bowed. “We’ll be very careful. Just this once, let her drink. For me. Pour l’amour. I’ll pay a fee if we spill anything.”
“I’ll take you at your word, monsieur. Just this once.” Giselle spared us a withering glance, then went off to resume the call in the back, saying, “I need it here tomorrow at the latest.”
“How did you do that?” I whispered to Angel.
“Some people find me charming.” He smirked and pulled a few clothing hangers off my arm.
I hissed at the shift in pressure.
Angel inspected the angry red marks on my arm with apprehension. “Is your boss making you carry this much at once?”
I rubbed the irritated skin with silky garments. “I just wanted to get it done faster so we could go on our date.”
“Don’t stress yourself on my account. We’ll have plenty of time after this,” he said.
The lingerie weighed down my arms despite my attempts to flap in indignation. “But we won’t. I mean, not enough. It’s later than ever, and I won’t be done for at least another fifteen minutes, and you shouldn’t even be driving tired. Maybe we should reschedule.”
“I’m not tired,” he said, and my chest tightened.
“You say that, now, but once you’re in the car, with the warm air on, and a slow song lulls you into a comfort zone, it might sneak up on you,” I insisted, my arms stinging with each indignant gesture.
“Talking to you will stimulate me plenty.” He winked, breezing by me to hang things. “But if I do start yawning, I’m sure some cutie will share her coffee with me.”
I trailed after him, the bite of metal in my palms. “I will, but caffeine doesn’t kick in right away.”
“We have a few minutes.” He smiled gently. “How about we both take a few sips for good measure?”
My heart pounded. Giselle’s rules aside, was this okay?
“Unless you want to cancel? I can drive you home instead,” he offered.
“No.” I needed this. I needed…a soft place to land.
He took a sip from the cup, then handed it to me when Giselle wasn’t looking. “Careful not to drip,” he whispered.
But when the drink warmed my lips, all I could think of was what it’d be like to kiss him instead.
Chapter twelve
Chandelier
