Daphne followed, refusing to dampen the mood with the obvious. Granny had been in a hospital bed, fading away after her heart attack. “I didn’t have my Pinterest problem a year ago. Pinterest changes you.”
The morning crowd trickled in, offering a welcome distraction. Regulars like Mrs. Hayes and her usual party, Mr. Lux and his wife of sixty years, and Mr. Harmon, her grandfather’s old friend. A couple of out-of-towners admired her teapot collection and stayed long enough to order breakfast.
Two college girls on their way to the community college ducked in for their usual London Fog lattes and cranberry-orange muffins, waving on their way out with sleepy smiles and lavender-sugar smudges on their sleeves.
A good morning, all things considered.
And not one sound from her next-door neighbor.
Then the door jingled again.
Rosemary sucked in a breath so sharp Daphne thought she might have to perform the Heimlich maneuver. “Heaven have mercy,” she whispered in a reverent hush.
Daphne turned from the cash register just in time to nearly drop a roll of quarters.
Finn Dashwood strolled in like the cover model for some magazine calledEffortlessBritish Charm—pale blue button-down (the top buttons daringly undone), dark jeans that frankly ought to require a warning label, and sunglasses that probably had their own agent.
Thankfully, those sunglasses kept his infamously infuriating eyes under wraps.
Unfortunately, nothing could shield her from his voice.
“Ladies.”
Just one word. Rich. Smooth. Laced with so much teasing it should’vecome with a side of whipped cream. The sound sent an unwelcome tingle from her eardrums straight down to her collarbone. Granny had never prepared her for weaponry of this variety... or potency. She had to summon every BBC adaptation of Wickham and Mr. Churchill just to stay upright.
Definitely an unfair advantage to her English-loving heart.
“Mr. Dashwood.”
“I came to thank you for my special delivery of...” He set a mug on the counter with theatrical disgust, lifting one brow over the rim of his glasses.
Daphne bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning. She’d heard his door unlock half an hour ago and seized the opportunity to sneak next door and leave a steaming cup of herspecial blendon the pub’s counter.
He gestured to the mug with an exaggerated shudder. “This abomination.”
“Abomination?” She feigned offense. “That, I’ll have you know, is Earl Grey with oat milk and just a hint of lavender. Specially brewed for those who want to upgrade their lives.” She even quoted his own chalkboard slogan while she was at it.
Finn leveled her with a flat stare. “I took one sip and immediately questioned every decision that led me to this moment.”
“I hope music choices were involved in those questions.” She smiled sweetly, and it was probably a little too satisfying to watch him grimace. “You’re welcome.”
“How did you even get in?” He leaned closer, lowering his shades. Unfortunately, it was at the exact moment his warm, ridiculously appealing scent hit her like a sneak attack.
She did not sway. (Barely.)
“Do you have a secret passage or something?” His eyes narrowed. “You’d be the sort.”
Daphne pushed back from the counter, doing her best to clear themental fog of Eau de Dashwood. “Like I’d tell you.” She slid a raspberry muffin toward him. “Muffin?”
“Hmm...” He accepted it, keeping his gaze on her like she was the puzzle he hadn’t quite solved. Then he sighed and pushed back from the counter. “I just wanted to be neighborly and let you know a few workmen will be here within the hour to replace some floorboards behind the bar. It might get noisy.”
Daphne angled her body slightly, trying to maintain her composure. “Thank you for the warning this time.”
“When do you hope to open up the pub?” This from Rosemary, who’d rounded the counter to sit right beside Finn, plopping her chin on her hand and staring up at him in rapt wonder.
“The end of next week.”
Wow, that was fast.
