“Friday,” I confirm, fighting a grin. “Unless you have other plans. Hot date? Secret life of intrigue?”
She gives a startled snort. “Yes, Alex. I’m very busy with my secret life. It’s exhausting keeping up with all the espionage.”
“Good,” I say. “I’d hate to interrupt your crime syndicate.”
Before she can answer, Christina bellows from the front, “She’s free on Friday!”
Emma groans and slaps a hand over her face. “I swear I’m going to move her into the walk-in fridge.”
I bite back a laugh. “So… Friday, then?”
She lowers her hand and nods. Not shy this time. Not uncertain. Just… yes. And it does something ridiculous to my soul.
“I’d like that,” she says quietly.
“So would I,” I reply. “Seven o’clock. And I promise not to blow your espionage cover.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling, and that’s all I need.
She stays in the back-room doorway as I leave, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, looking at me as if she’s still surprised I’m real.
In the front shop, Christina lifts her coffee in greeting.
“Say hello to Bambi for me,” she chirps.
“Who?” I ask.
“Phil. Your timid friend who looks at me like a deer in headlights.”
I laugh. Hard. “Oh, he’s going to love that.”
She beams, completely unbothered. “Good. I’m not easily discouraged.”
Poor Phil. He has no chance.
Chapter 10
Emma
Christina bursts into theback room like she’s kicking down a door on a police raid. “Right. Start talking.”
I blink at her over a bucket of roses. “About what?”
She gives me a look that could wither crops. “You said the date was ‘fine’.” She even uses air quotes. “Emma. I just walked in on you two kissing like a pair of teenagers who’ve forgotten how oxygen works. That was not ‘fine’. So. Details. All of them.”
I open my mouth to deny everything, but my face has other ideas. My cheeks heat and I can feel a smile tugging at my lips. I try to hide it. I fail.
Christina spots it instantly. “Aha.”
She drags over a stool, sits, folds her arms and waits. I know that posture. It means resistance is pointless. So I tell her. Not every moment, but enough. Her expression keeps softening the more I talk, which only encourages the stupid smile on my face.
When I finally fall quiet, she studies me for a long second. “Alright. And how do you feel?” Her voice is gentler now, the teasing gone.
I fiddle with a stray leaf on the workbench. “Happy,” I say, surprised by how easily the word slips out. “Really happy. Which is… terrifying.” I exhale. “What if I’ve completely misread him? What if this is nothing serious for him? What if I’m already too far in?”
Christina tilts her head. “Okay. But how does it feel when you’re with him? Not when you’re thinking about it. When you’re actually there.”
I close my eyes for a moment and picture last night. The food. His laugh. The way he listened like I mattered. The kiss at my door that still warms the back of my neck just thinking about it.
