He had to admit the game was entertaining. He only needed to be careful to keep it light. Simple. Uncomplicated.
“I know we didn’t get off to the best start, but I’m not the villain you think I am, Miss Austen. Most people find me quite friendly. Honest. Charming, even.”
A spark lit in her eyes, but before he could enjoy it, she pulled back, doubling the distance between them. Pity. He was developing a fondness for that spark.
“Friendly, huh?” She raised a brow. “Well, then, I think it would be particularly friendly and charming if you’d do me a little favor.”
He shrugged. “What is that?”
“Turn down that music you have blaring from the other side of the wall.”
He leaned back, feigning offense. “Blaring?” He paused, listening. AC/DC barely hummed through the walls. “You can hardly hear it.”
“You might not be able to hear it.” Her words dropped to a whisper—a harsh whisper. “But I hear it very well. Would you mind turning it down a little?”
He took another drink of the milkshake. “No, I can’t.” He even softened it with a small bow of his head. “I do apologize.”
“Why not?” Her question curbed into a little squeak. “You can’t expect people to enjoy eating to that”—she gestured to the brick wall separating their establishments—“that hideousness.”
AC/DC? Hideous? He feigned a look of deep injury. “It keeps me from hearing the classical nonsense you blast in your princess tearoom.”
Daphne’s mouth dropped open, and Finn immediately regretted his reaction, but she gave him no time for an apology.
“Nonsense? Babies’ brains develop better when they hear classical music.”
Oh well, why let the moment go without a chance to wind her up a bit. “So that’s your excuse for listening to such snobbish drivel then?” He pushed back from the counter, heat crawling through his middle in a mixture of regret and frustration. What was it about this petite, pink-clad woman that inspired his... engagement?
Her lips parted, but then, like a true warrior, she regrouped. “First of all,” she said, stepping closer, “a man with such a deliciously rich voice and utterly delightful accent should never waste it defending bad taste in music.” She pinched the air as if trying to squeeze the words from floating in her memory. “Ever.”
His lips twitched. “And yet, here I am. Wasting away, one power chord at a time.”
His response clearly derailed her attack list of his music choices because her lips tipped the slightest bit. “Tragic, really.”
“Tragic,” he agreed. “But you know what they say—every villain is the hero of his own sound system.”
Her eyes narrowed for the briefest moment before she continued, “Which leads me to my second reason.” She leaned in, just enough for him to catch the faint scent of lavender and sugar. Her sudden smile, all soft and welcoming, shot through him like a warning light, but he fell for the trap. “Do you really think I’m a princess?”
He grinned. “Most certainly.”
Her own smile was slow. Dangerous. “Then do as I say and turn down your abominable music.”
He chuckled. “This has been fun, but as you said, I must get back to my side of the wall.”
He dipped his chin, keeping the milkshake in hand just to irritate her. To his surprise, she followed him all the way to the front door.
“The least you can do is try to be neighborly,” she hissed behind him. “Just a little less rock music during afternoon tea?”
Of course he would turn it down. It was a small request, after all.
But why let her know that.
And, neighborly? Oh, he could do even better than neighborly. A deliciously infuriating idea came to mind. Well, infuriating for her.
“I’ll consider it, of course.” He paused at the threshold. “And I should probably thank you for the sweet message you left me this morning.”
Daphne’s blush evaporated and her bottom lip dropped. Every head in the room swiveled toward her. Finn nearly lost control of his laugh. Turnabout and fair play... and all that?
He dipped his head, stepping back through the door. “So I returned the favor.” And with one final wink, just to sweeten the deal, he was gone.
