I wince. “Not hardly. I haven’t had a buyer for much of anything since…” I sigh, giving him the whole truth. “Not since I sold half a dozen hair bows to a little church craft fair. Though Iamfinishing up a commission piece I’m proud of.”
“Really?” he says, brows raised. “Tell me more.”
So I do. I tell him everything about how I create my designs, what I plan next, my hope for expansion and how to hit the French market. I’ve never said any of this out loud, and I don’t know if I should laugh or cry. I’m not sure what it is about thisman that makes me feel such a wide range of emotions all at once. Maybe it’s just that he’s paying attention. People rarely do.
“It’s just been… well, a very slow start,” I finish with a sigh.
“Every single successful business in the history of the world started off like that, though,” he says soberly.
“Everybusiness?”
He shrugs and smiles. “Enough of them.”
I quietly take another sip of my smoothie, finishing it, then place the empty cup in my salad dish. He reaches for my tray. “I’ll get it.”
I watch as he rises with our trays and heads to the trash bin, just as a commotion picks up near the register.
“I’m sorry, those are the rules, sir,” the cashier says, frowning. “And if you don’t comply, I’ll be forced to ask you to leave.”
“That won't be bloody necessary,” the guy says, as he heads to the door. He pushes his way past several others in line, and literally bumps my table as he walks by. My energy bite falls to the floor, the container opening and the little pieces rolling underneath the table.
"Hey!"
"Oh, shut it. Hey yourself,” the arsehole mutters.
The next second, Mac is in my space, standing between me and this arsehole. Jesus, is he intimidating, all large and muscular andfurious.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asks. “Terrorizing the entire store because you think the rules don’t apply to you?”
The prick turns to retort, then his eyes go wide at the sight of Mac. He glances at his neck, his shoulders, and sees something that makes him start.
“I was just leaving,” he mutters.
Mac steps closer to him, grabs him by the back of the shirt, and drags him toward the door. “Allow me to help you with that.”
He drags him to the exit, opens the door, then throws the man bodily into the street. When he turns back to the shop, people literally clap. I grin at him.
“Bloody brilliant,” I say with a grin.
But he’s frowning and shaking his head. “Bloody bully is what he was. He’s lucky I didn’t kick his scrawny arse.”
I blink, surprised to realize I’d have liked to see that.
What’s wrong with me?
“Tell you what,” he says. “Forget those damn energy balls.” He lowers his voice and mutters, “Trust me, they’re fucking awful anyway. Let’s get a proper dessert at the coffee shop before you have to get back to work? My treat. I have to balance off that healthy meal with something delicious and laden with refined carbs.”
I glance at the clock and bite my lip.
“I’d love to, but I really don’t have time.”
He nods. “Ah, right. You’ve got work to do. So tell me how you take your coffee, then, and I’ll bring it by.”
He’s a stranger, though. Should I let him?
His eyes twinkle at me, and I decidewhat the hell.
“Medium, with a shot of vanilla, dash of milk, no sugar.”
