“Hi,” Cat Dad said eventually, hauling himself off the sidewalk and brushing his hands off on his apron. “Umm, I have to, uh…”
He turned away, heading back for the bakery, then paused and strode back to me, hands extended.
Right. Luna.
I handed her over in shocked silence, still trying to process what the hell had just happened.
Cat Dad was right there. Standing in front of me.
He was so much more attractive than I’d imagined he would be. I’d seen glimpses of defined abs peeking out from under the hem of thin cotton t-shirts when he’d taken pictures of the kittens napping on top of him, the occasional lean runner’s thigh, but never the whole package at once.
I’d never seen the way his soft brown eyes glinted in the sunlight, or the golden lashes that framed them, matching a head of touchable curls. I’d never seen the perfect cupid’s bow of his mouth, soft and kissable. He wasn’t smiling, but he had been yesterday, and now I knew that smile—the one I’d been thinking aboutminutesago while I was waiting for his friend to leave so I could go inside and talk to him alone—belonged to a man I’d had the most ridiculous crush on for months.
“I have to go,” he said.
And then he was gone, ducking back into the bakery before I could think of anything else to say and leaving me standing in the street gaping after him.
“Milo?” Dawn asked from the doorway, sticking her head out of the florist.
“I…”
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I didn’t lose a second pulling it out, hoping it was Cat Dad.
Xander. His name was Xander. Dawn had said so yesterday.
I just hadn’t known it was the man whose messages had been the brightest spots in nine out of ten of my days for months when she said it.
Unfortunately, it was an incoming call. One I had to take.
“Mr. Nakamura,” I said, putting on my best, smoothest salesman voice even though my stomach was still tied up in knots.
Dawn raised an eyebrow as I slipped back into the florist past her.
Mr. Nakamura owned five restaurants in Seattle, one of which was my favorite noodle bar, and he was one of the company’s oldest customers. His father had been one of the first people to deal with my grandpa way back when he was still steering the fishing boat himself.
He also made the best yuzu manju in the entire world, as far as I knew, and brought one for me at every quarterly sit-down meeting.
“Are you sure you’re not adopted, Milo?” he asked, sighing into the phone. I could picture him pinching the bridge of his nose. I’d seen it often enough.
“You’ve been talking with Dad,” I said. Normally I wouldn’t be so casual with a client, but I’d known Mr. Nakamura since I was a kid. He was practically an adopted uncle to me.
“Shouting with,” Mr. Nakamura said, sighing again then trailing off into a wry laugh. “How do you feel about free ramen in exchange for not making me deal with him?”
“Much as I’d love to take you up on the ramen, I’m actually on vacation right now,” I said, hating that I was letting him down. He and Dad had never gotten along, and once Grandpa retired he’d more or less refused to deal with anyone but me.
“Your father knows what a vacation is?” Mr. Nakamura asked, pretending to be shocked.
Despite everything that’d happened in the last five minutes, I laughed. “Not sure, but I’m out of town for a little while either way.”
Mr. Nakamura made a heartbreaking sound.
This was the thing. I could never really be on vacation. Not that I begrudged one of our best clientsanda man I considered a friend the help.
“My laptop is just upstairs,” I offered. “We can figure whatever it is out now, and you can owe me the ramen. Sound good?”
At least this would provide me with a distraction.
“You know you’re a good boy, Milo?” Mr. Nakamura asked. “Your father should be doubling your vacation time and giving you a raise.”
