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I look through the peephole. She’s shorter than I would have imagined, but her curves are no less delectable looking than they are in pictures.
I slowly open the door and wonder if my eyes are as wide as they feel.
Margo Reyes is fucking gorgeous in person.
She plasters on a smile that shows even white teeth, holding out a bag.
“Here you go, Mr. Rivera.”
“Th-thank you,” I stutter, and my fingers brush hers as I take the bag.
“Your house is very nice,” she points out.
“Thank you,” I say again, and it sounds dumb. “Ms. Reyes—”
She frowns. “Margo.”
“Margo. Will you come inside? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”
She stares at me. “Something you’d like to discuss?”
Stupid. A man she’s never met is inviting her inside. Alone.
Why would she do it?
“It’s business-related,” I say, desperate to salvage this social interaction. “It seems Smith Park has flooded, and the Garland Falls Halloween Festival committee has asked me to host.”
“Oh?” She lifts a bold eyebrow.
“Yes.” I clear my throat, nervous again. “It turns out they need a bakery to provide pastries for the event. Would you be interested?”
She pauses, her hair damp and frizzy from the rain, a cloud around her head.
Cute.
“The festival? Doesn’t Yeoman’s Bakery always—”
“Yes, but the storms have flooded their Garland Falls location.”
“The Halloween festival is only—”
“Nine days away, I know.” I pause. “If you can’t do this, Ms. Reyes…”
“I can do this,” she shoots back, almost defiantly. “But if I do, I want free rein of the vineyard’s kitchen.”
A smile plays at the corner of my mouth.
“Done. Anything else, Ms. Reyes?”
She falters. “Uh…I don’t think so. Wait! Yes. Call me Margo.”
“Only if you call me Gabe.”
She sticks out her hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, Gabe.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” I murmur, taking her hand. Half of me wants to pull it to my mouth, brush my lips along her knuckles.
She’d probably slap me. I’d probably deserve it. God, not a single wrinkle on that dewy, tan skin of hers.
