“I’m not,” I say.
“Ohhhhh,” Ben says, as if having some great revelation.
Then Janie leans back and laughs. Hard. Loud enough and long enough that the few people in the shop turn to look. She calms herself.
“Never in a million years, Aiden,” Janie tells me, suddenly serious.
“Never what?” I ask, confused.
“Whatever you’re thinking. She’s not available and even if she was, she doesn’t date seriously. She doesn’t hook up casually with randoms staying in town for two seconds, either, and she would nevereverconsider the town bully. You are O for three.”
“Date?”I choke on the word andstart to cough.
“She is very pretty,” Ben says like he’s trying to defend me. I need no defense! I do not want to date the baker! I am not the town anything!
“Hell yes, she is. And he can crush on her from afar like a flamingo. Or a bear. Don’t poke the bear, Aiden. I’m telling you.”
“Ha! Poke! I see what you did there, love,” Ben chuckles before kissing the side of her head.
“You two are looney. I’d just as soon date a porcupine,” I say. “More approachable and would probably provide better conversation. She’s practically mute.”
“Benedict you better get me away from this guypost freaking haste,”Janie stands, suddenly offended.
“What? I was agreeing with you. Preposterous idea.”
“Not cool to punch down, Mate,” Ben winces and stands as well. “I’ll meet you for a pint later, yeah?”
“What d’you mean, punch down?” I ask but they’re hustling out of the shop. Punch down…isn’t that some comedy term? Ben’s saying I was making jokes at the expense of someone weaker than me?
I frown at that.
Harper doesn’t seem to have a weak bone in her body. Quiet sure as hell does not mean weak. I’ve never had someone so dead-set on shutting me out.
And what the actual hell is his wife going on about?
I don’t want to date Harper.
I don’t even want to see Harper.
I get up to leave.
But damn my stupid eyeballs for finding her blushing face one last time as I barge out the door.
CHAPTER 15
Harper
“I don’t want to agree with the Dark Lord buuuut…” Janie starts, happily agreeing to one of my nicknames for Aiden.
“Then don’t,” I try to cut her off.
She goes on, “Seriously, though, you guys are having an Easter market that’s closed on Easter Sunday?”
I level a glare at her, “Everyone will be in church, remember?”
“Oh, I do,” she says, “But you’re thinking about the townies, tourists will come in and they’ll come inon Sunday.”
I shrug, “They can still find Easter eggs and use the photo apps—opps. Photo opps.”
