“Are you trying to figure out my breast size?” Anger flares from deep inside as I cross my arms over my chest, hoping to obstruct his view. “That’s right, buddy, I’ll report you to HR for sexual harassment.” If this guy weren’t already the grayest, palest-looking man I’ve ever seen, I’d think he saw a ghost.
“I’m sooo sorry.” He seems to shrink a little. “We don’t have a formal HR department. I was just–I didn’t mean to insult you. I mean—Ah, forget it.” He hangs his head. “Go ahead, report me to my boss.”
Breathing heavy, I don’t respond.
“Iamsorry.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I wonder if he’s waiting for me to say it’s alright, because I’m not about to. “If it helps, it’s only because they look really nice. Too nice if you ask me. Might draw attention from the wrong sort ofguy.” He nibbles on his bottom lip. I still say nothing. “If that’s all, I’ll leave now.”
I nod. And watch, furious, as he turns and heads for the door with his head hanging. Before opening it, he stops and turns back to me.
“The thing is, Ms. Ramos, if we do all of these things the way you're describing, you’re going to invest a lot of money in renovations to open a bakery, with no guarantee on your return on investment.”
“So?”
“There’s a cafe a few blocks away. I don’t know what your budget is, but maybe you should go to The Mummy’s Tomb Cafe so you can evaluate what else is in the neighborhood. Maybe you don’t need to do as much as you’re planning. Why don’t we revisit the estimate after you’ve been there?”
I shake my head, “No need to visit a cafe. I’m opening a bakery.”
“Still, they sell cookies and brownies. It can’t hurt to check it out. Besides, they have other food too, and you have to eat sometime, why not now?”
“Hmm.” I consider his words. While on one hand, Mr. Flint possesses a hard, caveman-like quality, there’s a vulnerability shining through his gray eyes that hints at more to him. “Are you asking me to go to dinner with you?”
Vulnerability turns to fear. He looks like a deer in headlights, and I chide myself for jumping to conclusions. What the hell is wrong with me? Even if he did, it’s not like I’d go on a date with him. Not after he gawked over my breasts. And the way he spoke about them? I shouldn’t go anywhere with him, no matter how genuine his admiration of “my measurements”.
He shrugs. “I guess,” he says after a long silence.
I should turn him down flat. I’d be crazy not to. But, he’s right, I do need to eat sometime, and it wouldn’t hurt to seewhat another food establishment looks like. Even though I will never admit it to him, there is a piece of my battered ego that’s flattered by the things he said and the way he looks at me. If he’s telling the truth, and that’s a big if, then maybe Ishouldgive him a chance. At the very least, it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend.
Chapter 7
Stone
“What brought you to Erie Cove? I mean, do you have any friends or family here?” I ask, trying to understand how a dimmer would be drawn to this town and what would make one move here.
“No.” She shakes her head, soft brown curls bouncing. After a deep breath, she continues. “I found Erie Cove by accident. A few months ago, I needed to get away from home and all the reminders of my ex. I felt a pull to the beach, used my GPS, and wound up here. When I finally made the decision to move out of my parents’ house, this seemed like the perfect place. I fell in love with it, and it’s far enough from home for me to have my own space, but still close enough that I can return in a reasonable amount of time if my parents need me.”
That’s strange. With the protections guarding our community, Camilla shouldn’t have been able to find Erie Cove. And once here, her memory should have been wiped when she crossed the town lines to return home. Two things are clear from this conversation so far. First, either the spells around Erie Cove have weakened, or something besides luck drew her here. Second, she has a problematic ex, and she’s all alone in a town with no friends or family. A nagging sensation starts in my stomach.
I’m tempted to ask details about the ex, but I hesitate. I already made a fool of myself, stumbling over my words when we spoke about measurements. She most likely suspects that I’m a perverted creep. A typical construction worker. I can’t say I blame her.
Regardless of her first impression, I have a chance to change it, to turn it around, and this is it. I don’t want to screw this up. Does the fact that she’s walking with me to The Mummy’s Tomb mean my fumble wasn’t as bad as I think it was?
Eh, it doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in her. No way will I fall like my friends. I won’t allow myself, even if she does make me feel soft and mushy inside, a sensation I’m not used to. I’m introducing her to people in town, and giving her a glimpse of her competition, whether she realizes it or not. I don’t recall ever having a bakery in town outside of the one at the grocery store. The Mummy’s Tomb comes closest.
She hasn’t said anything in a few minutes, and the silence feels heavy. Like I’m carrying pallets of wood on my back. “This isn’t a date,” I remind myself to ease the tension building inside me. “I’m just doing a good deed.” I don’t realize the words slipped out of my mouth until I hear her pained voice.
