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“Don’t make us–” I pleaded but stopped as I spied Mr. Flirty at the entrance to the market.
He hadn’t popped by the bakery since yesterday, yet, I turned away when his gaze connected with mine. Both Summer and Erin had followed my direction and when Erin returned her focus back to me, there was a questioning eyebrow raise.
Summer stood in front of Erin’s booth and readied the camera. “Anyway, you’re not going to want to miss this.”
“Good gossip or bad?” Erin was always the cautious one.
“Oh, it’s good. Really good. Going to put this town on the map.”
That was promising, and likely ruled out any wedding news. However, before she could spill any details, she’d taken Erin’s picture and moved on to the rest of the tables.
Landon Morris strutted to the first table, admiring the handwork of a homemade blanket made by the woman openly flirting with him. Her hands delicately touched his arm, and she tossed back her head and laughed loud enough to hear the high-pitched shrill from ten tables away.
“I’ll take two of these please.” A woman in front of me tapped on the display case, bringing me back to the job at hand.
“Sure thing.” I grabbed a compostable bag and placed the pastries inside. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Nope, just those. My daughter says this bakery is the bomb.” She was a wise-looking woman, easily passing for a young grandmother or an older mom.
“Are you new to the area?”
“Visiting.”
“Well, I hope you enjoy your stay. Be sure to grab a one-of-a-kind art piece.” I pointed to Erin’s table. “She carves the items from locally sourced wood, so you can take a piece of the Bay home with you.” I took the lady’s cash and handed her the bag.
Under my side-eyed glances, I carefully watched Landon move like a panther from table to table, and over to where another vendor was openly flirting with him. Not that I blamed her in the least as he was damn good-looking, and it was obvious everyone did it, me included. How did he not grow tired of that? Or was he the kind of guy who thrived from the attention?
As he moved from table to table, I kept studying him, seeing exactly how charming he could be. He hadn’t purchased anything, yet he gave his full undivided attention to each vendor but somehow had maintained a respectable distance since the first table’s manhandling. Maybe the flirting was innocent after all, although if he needed a date, he already had a steady stream to choose from. He could be booked well into the spring with a different date each day of the week if he wanted.
He stopped in front of my table and sent a panty-melting wink my way. “There she is. The next PGA Women’s Golfer. How are you doing, Libby?”
Glancing down, I saw I was devoid of a nametag. Landon had remembered my name and I laughed out loud, an oddly discomforting sound in the pitch. I recoiled. “I’m hardly PGA material. I play for fun, not for sport.”
“I like playing for fun.” The distance between us narrowed, and the breath was suddenly sucked from my lungs. “What does the world-famous baker recommend today?”
As much as I wanted to take credit, it wasn’t in me. “World Famous? Hardly. Besides, I merely serve the goods and very rarely make them. That’s Sylvia’s job.”
“Fine, I stand corrected.” He tipped his head to the side and moved impossibly close to the table. “But you need someone attractive to sell the goods, and that’s why you’re here, and Sylvia’s not. You’re very appealing and approachable.”
“I know the expressionsex sellsbut I hardly think it applies to farmer’s market, or me for that matter.” As it was, I was in a puffer jacket while wearing a sweater and jeans – clothing items Sylvia had approved for the cooler days, although I’d much rather be in a skirt with thigh- high stockings and boots.
“Whoa.” He thrust his hands up in defense. “I’m paying you a compliment. I happen to like appealing and approachable.”
This guy was the in I needed to meet up with and befriend my half-sister, and I wasn’t being very nice. “My apologies.”
“Everything okay?”
Steeling myself, I pulled out my most charming grin, which probably made me look like an idiot, considering the tone I just used. “Everything’s great, I’m just a wee bit tired. The market’s a bustling beehive of activity.”
He looked around and stopped to stare in one direction. “So you’re basically saying your exhaustion needs a good foot rub?”
“Never. I hate my feet being touched.” Why was I sharing this with him? That was highly personal.
“Really? I’ve never met anyone who didn’t enjoy a good foot massage.”
“First time for everything.” My shy smile stretched into one of smugness. “Can I tempt you with anything?” I pulled out a cookie and held it up with my gloved hand, hoping I looked as sweet as the cookie did.
He turned his focus back and a grin curled out from the left side of his lips. Despite the greying clouds, a slight sparkle twinkled in his eyes. “Sure. I’ll take what you’re offering.”
