“Embarrassed?” His brow furrows. “Why would you be embarrassed? That fu—stupid kid nearly ran you over. Because he was trying so hard to be cool with his damn music, he wasn’t paying attention to the road.”
“He had the right of way, though. I shouldn’t have been standing there like some kind of idiot.” My cheeks heat as I remember the crowd of people gathering on the street in the aftermath, all buzzing with curiosity at the spectacle I made. So much for keeping a low profile in town, not when what seemed like half of Williston was there to witness my humiliation.
“You weren’t an idiot,” he retorts. “It looked like?—”
“Here’s the ice,” a chipper voice trills. The server Webb spoke to minutes earlier is back, this time with a folded-up towel in hand. She gives me a cursory glance before turning her attention to Webb. “I made sure the towel was fresh from the cleaners. And I put the ice in a plastic bag so it wouldn’t drip all over when it melts.”
“Thank you,” he replies. Then he takes the towel-wrapped ice and gently sets it on my arm. I suck in a sharp breath at the sensation of cold against my sensitive skin, and he grimaces. “Sorry, Noelle. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You didn’t. It’s just cold,” I assure him. Then I look up at the server. “Thanks for getting this.”
She nods without looking at me. “So,” she continues, her eyes still on Webb, “is there anything else I can get you? Coffee? Something sweet, like our cinnamon rolls or shortbread? Or we have more savory items, too. There’s a cheese and bacon muffin on special today.”
The mention of muffins reminds me of the bag Webb tossed aside in his rush to reach me. I saw it later, a sad, smooshedmess of paper and crumbs that looked like it had been stepped on a few times for good measure.
“Muffins,” I blurt. “Can I buy some muffins?”
The server turns to me. “How many would you like?”
“I don’t know.” To Webb, I ask, “How many did you have in that bag? I want to replace them, since it’s my fault they were ruined.”
“Noelle, that’s not necessary,” he replies.
“But I want to.” After a moment’s thought, I ask the server, “Could I get a dozen? Not just the bacon and cheese, but sweet ones, too? Please?”
She jots my order in her notebook, then lifts her gaze. “Will there be anything else?”
“No,” I start.
“Yes,” Webb interrupts. Then he looks at me. “I promised you something with sugar. And I never go back on my promises. Do you want fancy coffee? A slice of one of the cakes I saw when we came in?” He casts a quick glance at the bakery counter nearby. “Those cinnamon buns look good. How about one of those?”
From his expression, it’s clear he’s not backing down. And I did agree to come to Cathy’s Confections to get something sweet, so it would be rude at this point to refuse. Even though I really just want to go home and hide in my bedroom for the next week with only episodes ofMaine Cabin Mastersfor company.
“Could I have a caramel latte?” I ask. “And a slice of carrot cake?”
“I’ll have the same,” Webb adds. “Please.”
“You like carrot cake?” I’m surprised, since most guys I’ve known prefer vanilla or chocolate. Or, in the case of my failed date with Greg Masters, a guy I agreed to go out with because Jaz kept nagging me about trying online dating, he actually argued with me that carrot cake couldn’t be a real dessert because it was made with vegetables.
“Why would you want to eat vegetables for dessert?” he asked with a look of disgust. Then he had the nerve to poke my cake with his fork. “And are those actual pieces of carrot in there?Gross.”
By that point in the night, I knew we weren’t a match. So I didn’t hesitate to parry back, “Did you know the red velvet cake you’re eating was originally made with beets? And given that this place is all organic, I bet they still use beets instead of red food coloring. So you’re eating vegetables for dessert, too.”
Suffice it to say, we didn’t schedule a second date.
Webb makes a sheepish face. “Actually, I’ve never tried it. I’m not much of a sweets person, myself. I prefer salty stuff like chips and pretzels.”
My arm is starting to go numb, so I set my ice to the side. “This might be a stupid question, then, but why did you order a caramel latte, which probably has a thousand grams of sugar in it,anda piece of carrot cake?”
He rakes his hand through his hair. Streaks of bronze and gold catch the light. His cheeks turn a cute shade of pink. “I don’t know. It just sounded good once you ordered it.”
Despite the warnings I’ve given myself that now is definitely not the time to think about dating anyone, even someone as nice and handsome as Webb, my heart flutters.
Webb from afar, tall and blonde and lean, with those striking blue eyes and enigmatic smile, is already hard to ignore. But when he’s sitting across from me, close enough for me to see the green and silver flecks in his eyes and the dimple in his cheek? When his usually confident demeanor slips to show a hint of vulnerability?
Phew. I can hardly blame our server for flirting with him.
Webb picks up the discarded ice and sets it back on my arm. “You should keep it on for fifteen to twenty minutes to really help with the bruising. And especially if you sprainedsomething.” He pauses. “Are you supposed to work tomorrow? Maybe you should see about getting the day off to give your arm time to heal.”
