“Is, uh, is this the redhead?” His mouth suddenly felt too full of saliva, and oh, he hated this. Talking on the phone amplified every bit of awkwardness he brought with him in all his interactions with strangers.
At first he only heard background clatter, and then a hiss came over the line. “Listen, asshole, I don’t know who you are or how you got this number, but I’m not—”
An unexpected laugh rolled through him, taking him by surprise and loosening the tightness in his chest. He’d boarded the train last night to find a fierce little tyrant staring down a harasser with violence shining in his eyes. Of course the same woman who didn’t back down in the face of obvious danger and then yelled at her rescuer would try to start shit over the phone.
“My God, is your default setting Fight?” With effort, he wrestled his amused surprise into submission and flattened his voice. “This is Erik Andersson from the bakery. And the L.”
That shut her up.
“I… okay. What do you want? And how’d you get my number?”
He blew out a breath. “Bakery paperwork. Are you still with your friend?”
“Yes,” she said cautiously.
“Can we talk? I have a proposition.”
Nowshewas the one huffing a short laugh. “Wow. Sure. Um, we’re at Blake’s Coffee, a few blocks away. You know it?”
“Yeah.”
“Want to join us there?”
No. But he needed to make this work. “See you soon.”
Four
“Well. You’ll never guess who that was.” Josie raised her mug to her lips and studied Richard over the rim. The grim brackets around his mouth showed that he was still shaken by their experience with Dora the Destroyer, but he forced a smile.
“Hot cross bun from the bakery. He wants to fall at our feet and apologize.”
She set the mug down in astonishment. “How do you always know?”
He grinned and slicked a hand over his tight black curls. “Context clues and a top-notch brain.”
Josie scraped her chair closer to the table to let a man squeeze past in the cramped seating area. “I don’t actually know that he’s coming to apologize,” she warned as the guy’s overcoat sleeve dipped perilously close to her coffee. “Maybe he’s going to demand payment for the free cake we scammed. Byron better earn a bonus this month to cover our dessert bills.”
Richard’s mouth tugged down, and Josie nudged his ankle with her Tieks-clad toe.
“Missing him?”
He nodded. “Wishing he could be more involved. I know he doesn’t control his travel schedule, but…”
“Yeah.”
Richard, Byron, Josie, and Josie’s roommate, Finn, were all in the PR/marketing biz in various capacities, but Byron was the only one whose work regularly took him out of town to meet the vendors whose accounts he managed.
“Where is it this week?” she asked.
“La Crosse.” Richard’s voice was so gloomy Wisconsin might as well be Siberia, so she returned to the subject that had pulled a reluctant smile from him earlier.
“About Mr. Man Bun. Did you see those arms? I bet he could bench-press me. Maybe you and me at the same time even.” She fanned herself with a lazy hand.
Richard’s teeth flashed, then vanished just as quickly. “Girl, he could hang one of us from each bicep and do curls. If that guy doesn’t have a thirst-trap Insta account with a billion workout ab shots, then I quit life.”
Her fingers involuntarily twitched toward her phone to search “hot Chicago baker,” but she forced them to behave. “Too bad he’s not my type.”
He paused with his coffee cup halfway to his lips. “Excuse me? I thought Nordic god-men were everyone’s type.”
