LARK: Right. Well, are you doing anything in an hour?
DAN: Other than eating free cake? Nope.
An hour later, I’m biting back my grin as Dan comes swaggering up to me, a big, goofy smile of his own stretched across his face.
“What the heck are you wearing?” I fold my arms across my chest. He looks down, spreading his hands wide.
“This old thing? Just a shirt I had lying around.”
The bright blue shirt with a huge cartoon slice of cake and the words “My Favourite Flavour of Cake is More” is stretched across his muscular chest.
“That is ridiculous.” My smile breaks free. It’s nice to be around someone who doesn’t care about appearances or status, just about having fun and enjoying life. That’s always how I feel with Dan. Carefree, light, and happy.
He shrugs, giving me a grin. “Yep, it is. Also, appropriate.”
I bite my lip to not laugh, but he’s right.
“Hey, any word from the university?” Dan asks as we near thecoffee shop we decided to meet at before the tasting.
His question makes my mood drop slightly. I shake my head. “No, still nothing. I don’t think I’ll hear for a while. The placement wouldn’t even start until next fall.”
He nudges me with his shoulder. “They’d be stupid not to take you.”
Here’s hoping the people running the research project at the university agree with him.
Inside the coffee shop, the line isn’t too long and there’s an open table by the front. Dan gestures to it and says, “You grab us a seat, I’ll get drinks.”
I go and sit down, and a few minutes later he joins me, setting two mugs down. “Vanilla cappuccino, half caff with oat milk for the lady, and a mocha with extra whip for myself.”
For a few seconds, I stare at the steaming mug in front of me, more uncomfortable truths hitting me, this time strong enough that I can’t ignore them the way I normally do. In all the years I’ve been with Baron, I don’t think he has even once ordered my coffee the way I like it. I’ll drink coffee with regular milk, without flavouring, whatever. But my favourite? It’s right here in front of me, courtesy of a man who is so good a friend, he always gets my coffee order right.
I lift it to my lips and take a sip, my mind spinning. I’ve always known Dan is a special kind of guy. A good man with a heart of gold. He’s the one who always makes everyone around him smile, and nothing ever seems to get him down.
He’s silly, and kind, and giving, and smart. And I count myself incredibly lucky to have him as a friend.
And as I look at him smiling around the coffee shop, sippingon his mocha, not caring that a smudge of whipped cream is on the corner of his lip, my heart flip-flops in my chest.
Because someday, a woman is going to be even luckier than I am and have Dan Montgomery as her partner.
Leaning forward before I can think about what I’m doing, I lift my thumb and wipe away the whipped cream, stilling when he quickly turns and his piercing brown eyes fix on me.
“You had a little…” I show him my thumb, still frozen. His gaze bounces down, then back up. Slowly, I move my thumb to my mouth. He follows my movement, and there’s no mistaking the clenching of his jaw when my tongue darts out to lick it up.
All of a sudden, I feel hot and squirmy.
Pushing back from the table, I pick up my coffee cup and drain it, letting the still-hot liquid run down my throat. “We should go,” I say when I’m done, moving to the counter where a bin holds dirty mugs. I don’t meet his gaze as I walk out the door of the coffee shop, still trying to figure out what exactly was that reaction I just had.
I don’t get hot and squirmy around Dan.
Then again, there was that moment at his house the other night when I walked in on him shirtless. If this is going to be happening every time I see him, if I’m going to start feeling things I have no business feeling, things are going to get awkward really fast.
And the thought of things changing between us, of me somehow ruining our friendship, has me filled with dread.
But he seems oblivious to my internal freak-out as he chatters to me about the Little League team his Little Brother is on. Grayson’s a good kid, and I smile and nod as necessary, eventhough my head is a million miles away.
We reach the bakery in a few minutes, and Dan holds open the door with a little bow. “After you.” He’s always doing cute things like that, and I can’t help but compare him to Baron, who hasn’t held a door open for me in years.
“You must be the Hazelwood couple, welcome. I’m Joanne.” An older woman wearing a pristine white chef’s coat comes out from behind the counter.
