She’s flirting with me. It’s thrilling, and so unlike the blatant interest of the supermodels I usually date. “What kind of bargain are you proposing?”
“I assume that you’re not seeing anyone currently?” She raises an eyebrow. Coquettish. In honor of the French galettes.
Winnie draws back when I lean in to grab the apron string. I let her, not wanting what we have to end.
That was easy. I’m almost sad that the chase is over. Still, her being wrapped around my every word will be entertaining enough for the next month, at least.
“Are you asking me out on a date, Creampuff?”
5
WINNIE
“Areyouasking me out on a date, Creampuff?” It’s triggering—the emphasis onyou,the raised eyebrow.
It’s going to be that thing I obsessively ruminate over at two a.m. twenty years from now.
Areyouasking me out on a date?Like a girl who looks like me shouldn’t even have the audacity to ask a man like him out.He deserves to be saddled with my useless sister.
I come in hot. “I’d never date you. You’re useless and arrogant, self-absorbed, shallow—”
“So you really just like me for my body. That’s okay, Creampuff. I don’t mind being objectified.”
“Stop calling me Creampuff. It’s insulting.”
“What? I love all that strawberry-flavored cream all over my face, coating mytongue—”
I want to slap him, but that would make a scene, and I don’t need to be the crazy lady slapping the shit out of some poor, helpless, handsome guy—even if he deserves it.
He winks at me. “But point taken. I’ll change up the nickname. What was the Christian name of that witch in ‘Hansel and Gretel’ who baked children into pies?”
“Out.”
“What?”
“You’re banned. Get out of my café.”
“Ooh, but you like me, remember?”
My body reacts like I’ve been shocked when he closes the distance between us. I can feel the heat from his body, smell that scent of leather mixed with the paper and ink of the bookstore. He’s so close to me, his nose is practically touching my forehead.
“You do like me. In fact, I think you want me.”
“Yeah…” I say breathily. “I want you to sign me to a five-year lease with a fixed four-point-two-five percent APR, zero prepayment penalty, and an escalation clause tied to annual CPI adjustments. Throw in an early-termination fee and a mutual renewal option because I’m cute.”
That makes him step back and look at me with intrigue. “Someone wants to be a real estate influencer.”
“No, I just want a lease with good terms—fixed rate, minimal escalation, tenant improvement allowance, fair-market renewal options, and a clean early-termination clause. Nothing fancy.”
“Huh.” He rubs his jaw. “Come be my personal chef, and I’ll do it.”
“What? I’m not working for you. Screw you.”
“Why not?” He shrugs a shoulder. “Especially since you won’t date me. Can’t imagine why. Could it be…” He’s back inmy personal space. “That you’re in love with someone else? Perhaps someone unattainable, whom you long for while lying in bed, like Heathcliff inWuthering Heights. An apparition to quench your unspeakable lust.”
“Congrats.” I slow clap. “You cheated off the smart girl in high school.”
“Do I sense lingering resentment? The girl who sacrificed her social life for grades? Don’t worry. You did mildly well for yourself. Bet your mom still wishes you’d given her grandkids and a big fancy wedding she could brag about.”
