He resisted the urge to mimic her action and settled for lifting his beer in a salute instead. “Nobody’s hiring. Kill me now.”
She smiled wanly at him, and they drank in unison.
“I know a florist who might help.” The offer was out of his mouth almost before he realized he was making it, and when Josie looked up at him, the assessing look in her eye gave him pause.
She straightened and turned on her stool so she was facing him fully. “I have a proposal.”
Nope. He didn’t care for that. As a preemptive defense against her words, he reached behind his head and yanked out the band holding back his hair, sliding his fingers through the mess of it and shaking it forward until it obscured his features. Natural camouflage, Gina had once called it, and he’d liked the idea of having a shield against the world when necessary.
The abnormal silence from the stool next to him drew his attention, and when he turned his head, he found Josie staring avidly at the hair falling across his cheek. He froze under her transfixed gaze until she jolted out of her stupor and cut her eyes back to her wretched drink, at which point he hastily bundled up his hair again.Christ, talk about epic camouflage fail.
A trio of middle-aged women crowded up next to Josie at the bar, forcing her to lean closer until her knee pressed against his thigh. “So, uh. My proposal.” She downed a slug of her drink as he struggled to ignore that single point of contact. “Wedding planning sucks. Job hunting sucks. Let’s join forces, Man Bun.”
He shifted to put some distance between them. “Pass.”
“Pass? Just like that?”
Did she sound a tiny bit hurt? Unlikely; it would take more than a single word to wound someone as bulletproof as she was. “Just like that,” he said. “And my name’s Erik.” He didn’t even stop to consider the pros and cons. Some things were an easy no, and he didn’t need… allthisin his life.
She huffed. “Oh my God,Erik,your wolf-pack-of-one attitude is exhausting. Look, I could use somebody who’s been around the wedding biz more than I have to give suggestions and keep me company.”
“I’m lousy company.” True, although it didn’t feel good to say it out loud.
“Says you. I think you’re fun.”
“Fun.” He repeated the word flatly, and she bit her lip and nodded.She thought he was fun?She had to be messing with him. Still, he was curious how far she’d take the joke. He leaned an elbow on the bar. “What do I get out of it?”
She mimicked his posture, crossing one denim-clad leg over the other and propping herself on her own elbow. “What do you want?”
The question burrowed into his brain. What did he want?
A secure workplace.
A predictable future.
A drama-free life.
“Stability,” he finally said.
Her eyes didn’t move from his face for a long moment before she returned to her drink. “Nah. You want to take a risk.”
He laughed. “I promise you, I don’t.” And it was true. His early childhood had been nothingbutrisk as his mother dragged him from city to city and scheme to scheme, seeking whatever new vision of fame she’d dreamed up that week. He’d spent every moment since then running away from that life. But his heart sped up at Josie’s words anyway.
The white-wine-spritzer trio had moved on, giving his companion room to lean lazily against the bar and study him. “Blondie Bakes.”
He blinked, concerned that he’d missed a step, and she read the question on his face.
“For your new bakery,” she said. “The new bakery that I’m going to help you open in exchange for your coming along to pick out wedding flowers with me. You didn’t like Hot Buns, so what about Blondie Bakes?”
“Ridiculous,” he muttered, staring hard at his half-empty glass and ignoring the rush of blood in his ears at the merest suggestion of his own bakery.
“The name or the idea?”
“Both.” The word burst out of him, sharper than he intended, and her tiny flinch madehimflinch. He sighed. “It’s impossible. A new business takes way more than baking skills.”
“So let me help.”
“Why would you want to?”
