So he shouldn’t make it work.
And yet... he did.
Her gaze drifted to the container he carried, and her heartbeat skittered. Had he actually brought her something?
Could it be that the jerk had a conscience?
“Good afternoon, Miss Austen.”
His voice!That unfair, glorious British accent dipped in baritone.
“Welcome to Tea Thy—” Rosemary’s greeting cut off as her pale green eyes locked onto Finn. “Goodness. Sakes. Alive.”
“Don’t start,” Daphne muttered under her breath, shooting Rosemary a look, but it was no use. The woman stared with sheer appreciation and absolutely no self-control of her facial muscles. Nothing like reinforcing Finn’s ego with Rosemary’s impression of a cartoon character who’d just seen a twelve-foot sandwich.
Finn’s grin crooked, clearly missing nothing of the little exchange and Rosemary’s near hyperventilation.
“That new creation looks very suspiciously unlike tea.” He nodded toward the milkshake in her hand.
The residual chill from the ice cream evaporated beneath the sudden flush in her cheeks. “I happen to serve many things in my shop besides tea, Mr. Dashwood. If you’d taken the time to ask rather than tossing around uninformed critiques, I’d have been happy to enlighten you.”
Why did he seem to bring out her snarky side? And why did she suddenly want to go bake three batches of dark chocolate croissants?
And why did he have to possess such expressive eyes? Her fingers tightened around the glass in her hands. Tea should only prove a temptation in liquid form.
Not eye color.
“Now, Daphne honey, that ain’t no way to talk to our new neighbor.”
Granny D had made remarkable speed from her table to the door, clicking her tongue like a chicken on the hunt. “Lord, have mercy,” she exclaimed, fanning herself dramatically with a weathered hand adorned with tarnished silver rings. “If you’d told me handsome was comin’ to town, I’d have worn my good teeth.”
Finn turned, brows high, then broke into a slow, amused grin. “Good afternoon, ma’am.” He offered his hand. “Finn Dashwood.”
“You sound as good as you look, don’t ya’?” Granny D hummed her appreciation as she circled him, making no attempt to hide her appraisal.
She almost whimpered.
There were wonderful things about small Southern towns.
And then there were... these moments.
Daphne’s face reached a blistery temperature. If Malcom Dean showed up now with his banjo and his toy poodle wearing a hat, the humiliation might just be complete.
“I’m Granny D to everyone here in Wisteria.” She placed her hand in his.
“It’s a pleasure, Granny D.” And Finn raised Granny D’s bedazzled hand to his lips and kissed it like the gentleman he was not!
Daphne scowled. Casanova. Evidently, Finn Dashwood saved his surliness for her alone. How special.
Granny D’s grin stretched to Sunday lunch proportions. Beside her, Rosemary sighed. “So you’re opening a restaurant next door?”
He turned that devastating smile on Rosemary, clearly enjoying all the attention.
In fact, the previously chipper room had grown incredibly quiet.
Just beyond Finn, Mrs. Brubacher, Mrs. Stevens, and Miss Long had stopped their teatime chatter to take in the view. Mrs. Stevens had even resorted to fanning herself with a tea saucer. Edna Rossi sat frozen with a scone halfway to her lips. This did not help Daphne’s cause at all. She wanted to scream, “Pretty is as pretty does, so don’t let him fool you.”
“An English pub, actually.”
