"Thank you. You're very kind."
"I am not being kind. I am telling you the truth. You?—"
The front door opened, and in strolled Jamison Harris. I blinked, surprised. He caught sight of me and walked over, looking handsomely dapper. My body tensed with awareness.
No smile on his face, so I didn't smile either.
"Ms. Washington," he greeted in a neutral tone.
I didn't bother to remind him to call me Tallulah. "Jamison, what are you doing here?"
"Do you have a moment to talk—in private?" He smiled politely at Mrs. Chen.
She smiled back. "I was about to leave. We can continue our conversation later," she said with a meaningful look expertly hidden from Jamison's eyes.
After she was gone, I went to stand behind the front counter. For some reason, I needed a barrier between me and Jamison. "How can I help you?" I asked.
He stood ramrod straight, feet shoulder-width apart as if he owned the place. He wasn't wearing a jacket today. He wore a fitted vest and a long-sleeve white shirt that hinted at his biceps. He must work out regularly. I had underestimated his fitness during our first meeting.
"I'm here because of my son."
"Oh?"
I watched the rise and fall of his chest as he inhaled and released a quiet breath. "Manuel and I had an interesting conversation a couple of nights ago."
"I'm sure it was similar to the conversation Blossom and I had on Friday," I remarked.
Our expressions remained impassive, but I sensed a moment of understanding between us.
He cleared his throat. "My son was unhappy with me. He pointed out some... errors in my behavior. I stopped by because I don't want you to judge him based on my actions."
"I don't. Manuel seems like a lovely young man."
"He is. The best." His face softened for a fraction of a second, revealing the love and admiration he held for his child. "He's also crazy about Blossom. Madly in love with her."
"Blossom is crazy about him," I admitted.
He picked up the pen from the small cup on the counter, which customers used to sign credit card receipts. "I guess we could try to get along while the kids are making their wedding plans."
Jamison started doing the most annoying thing ever. He started clicking the pen. Again. And again.And again.
Annoyed, I fisted my hand under the counter. "I've been told I can get along with anyone."
He raised an eyebrow as if he doubted me, and I bit the inside of my cheek instead of making the smart remark on the tip of my tongue.
"Anything else?" I asked, keeping my voice polite. He was still clicking that damn pen.
He cleared his throat again, the clicking going faster. I briefly dropped my eyes to the pen.What was his problem?
"I'm sorry." The words fell from his lips as a grumble.
"Excuse me?" Did I hear him right?
"I. Am. Sorry."
I experienced an immense sense of satisfaction. So much so, I smiled. "Thank you."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "Would you like to say anything to me?"
