“Karen Johnson is coming in to talk to me about catering her daughter’s bridal shower, and Lisa Jacobson is stopping by in”—she looked down at her dainty watch—“an hour to discuss hosting a rehearsal dinner in the spring. Both thought of me when they saw some of my new posts on social media.” She grinned, then shrugged at Rosemary’s raised brows. “Okay, so Jack shared the posts, but still, it’s visibility.” She lifted a finger as if proving her point. “I love weddings, and if I can make this one shine as well as Morgan Dean’s this summer, I know I’ll get more requests, and those pay well.” She nodded, hands on her hips. “So everything needs to be perfect to showcase the atmosphere and skills I can offer.”
“No, it needs to benice.” Rosemary’s raised brow needled higher. “They already know you’re professional. But something else is wrong. You’re doing your whole”—Rosemary waved her hand toward the teapots—“nesting thing, where you straighten everything like one of those obsessive people.”
“I already told you about Mr. Lawson’s estimate for the plumbing repairs,” Daphne whispered, sending a glance around the room as if the whole shop could hear. “Isn’t that enough to cause me to be a little... distracted?”
Rosemary’s frown crinkled as she slowly shook her head. “I feel like it’s something else.”
As if her brain had no control of her body, Daphne’s gaze flipped to the wall she shared with Finn, hoping he could feel her annoyancethrough the brick. He’d done nothing to make up for his grumpiness this morning.
Well, nothing but make a lot of noise next door.
One construction worker or appliance delivery man after another, banging, scraping, and yelling so much she had to turn up the volume of her classical music to drown them out. Thankfully, none of her patrons had seemed to mind, but she really needed to talk to him about it.
Which meant she’d have to see him again.
Andseeinghim was the problem.
God really shouldn’t make men that handsome if they weren’t going to be nice. It violated some unspoken cosmic rule, like serving lukewarm tea or shelving a Dickens novel in the romance section.
“Ah, I see how it is.” Rosemary released a long sigh, her lips quirking into that knowing smile that had annoyed Daphne since third grade. “This guy really must be a piece of work to have rattled you so thoroughly.” Her lips tipped farther. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
Traitor!
“He has not rattled me.” Daphne sent Rosemary another glare as she moved to the back counter, lowering her voice so that the few patrons sitting nearest her spot wouldn’t be disturbed by her little diatribe on the great disappointment that was Finn Dashwood.
A sudden craving for chocolate pushed her into creative mode. “I just don’t want to have much to do with—” She paused and leaned toward the wall. From the other side came a deep, rhythmic rumble of bass notes followed by a sudden scream of an electric guitar. What on earth? She gestured toward Finn’s shop. “Do you hear that?”
Rosemary rounded the counter and stood beside her by the brick wall. “Sounds like... Is that Def Leppard? No, wait.” Her palm came up to still Daphne’s gasp. “Nope, it’s AC/DC.”
And the gasp released. Why did he continue to smash all of her ideals about an English gentleman? It was like he was doing it on purpose.
And he’d be the type who would.
She grimaced at the wall as if he could see her. “He is so... so...”
“Jack says he’s a great guy.”
“Jack still blows bubbles in his chocolate milk,” Daphne shot back.
Rosemary shrugged. “Who doesn’t?”
She was surrounded by children!
Daphne’s fingers paused on the ingredients in hand, her shoulders deflating at the way her brother could sneak into conversations without even being present. “Besides, Jack would say that about everybody.”
“Ooh, this guy has really gotten under your skin.” The laugh in Rosemary’s voice forced Daphne to get a larger scoop of dark chocolate ice cream from the freezer. “I’vegotto meet him.”
“No, you don’t.” Daphne turned her attention back to the silver malt cup she was holding and poured a touch of salted caramel flavoring into the blend. Too much, probably, but it was salted caramel. She could live with it.
Then she picked up the ice cream scoop again. “What I mean is that we can’t always trust Jack. And from what I saw, Mr. Finn Dashwood is not the good sort of neighbor.” She pointed the scoop toward the brick wall. “The music? The... attitude? He doesn’t even like tea.”
Rosemary’s eyes widened in mock horror. “Oh dear, the unforgivable sin.”
“And he’s a flirt.”
The glimmer in Rosemary’s eyes failed to match the seriousness in Daphne’s warning. “An Englishman who is single, handsome, a business owner, and a flirt?” She stepped back with the latte in hand. “How can you resist, Daphne?”
Before Daphne could respond with a very thorough answer, Rosemary snatched up the milkshake and turned toward the tables to deliver the smoothie. Daphne fought the urge to stick out her tongue at the back of Rosemary’s retreating form.
