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“Well, Mira,” he said, because he was up to his waist in it now whether he should have looked first or not. “What do you think?Areyou too busy?”
As dazed as a deer in the headlights of an oncoming semi, she swiveled her head from side to side.
“It’s settled then.” Cole slid his hands into his pockets, pivoting to meet Paul’s flat stare. “It’ll be fun.”
“Right, fun,” Paul repeated, not meaning it even in the most generous sense. He nodded once in Mira’s direction. “Thanks for the coffee.”
While a wall of tension so thick Cole could knock on it slammed between Paul and Mira, Chrissy—likely sensing it too—tugged her man toward the door. “We should go, Pauly,” she said. “I’m tired from the drive.”
Acquiescing, Paul took the to-go cups from the counter, dropped a twenty-dollar bill in their place, and followed Chrissy to the door. Turning around one last time, giving Mira the same look a person might give a house they’d lived in for years, but for one reason or another had to sell, he said, “See you tomorrow?”
“You bet,” Mira chirped, waving and watching them leave. Once they were halfway down the block, she finally exhaled.
“Sooo,” Cole drawled. “Wanna tell me what that was all about?”
“You… You’re Cole Sanderson.”
He laughed. “I think we’ve established that. The more important question is, who are you?”
“Shit.” She wiped her hand on her apron, then held it out. “I’m Mira. Mira Harlow.”
It was a perfect name, considering she looked exactly like a golden-age movie star, all big eyes and pouty lips. “Nice to meet you, Mira Harlow. I’m here to pick up—”
“The tarts!” Those big eyes popped. “Madigan said he might be sending someone to get them.”
Waving a hand down his torso, Cole said, “That would be me.”
“I should have recognized you. But with Paul and Chrissy, and the whole—”
“Thing where you kissed me?”
Her eyes slammed shut, her hand flying over her mouth. “I can’t believe I did that,” she said between her fingers. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He meant it too. “I came to pick up some baked goods and walked away with a wedding date. That’s the definition of a win.”
She groaned, burying her face in her crossed arms on the counter. “What the fuck iswrongwith me?”
Wrapping his hand gently around her ponytail, he pulled just enough to raise her head and said, “I’m sensing you’re having a moment.”
“Paul’s back in town for five seconds, and I completely lose it.” Her gaze met his dead-on. “Thank you for not blowing my cover, but you donothave to be my date to your best friend’s wedding just so I don’t have to look pathetic in front of my now-happily-married ex-boyfriend. I’ll figure something out or come clean or—”
“But what if I want to be your date at my best friend’s wedding?”
The corners of her lips sank. “Are you being serious right now, or only being nice?”
“I suppose you could say I’m being nice. But you could also say I’m being an opportunist. You need a date, and I’m more than happy to play Vivian to your Edward. Besides, I am ablastat weddings.”
“Yeah, but Edward at least paid Vivian. I can barely pay my bills.”
He shrugged. “I’ve always been more of a pro-bono pretty woman anyway.”
“You’ve done this sort of thing before?” Her eyes sparkled under the bright pink pendant lights suspended above her head.
“Show up in a random small town in my hot car and wind up scoring a date with a beautiful woman at the bakery? At least once a week.”
“Hot? Really?” Leaning across the counter to squint through the window at his car, she said, “You drive a Volvo station wagon.”
“What? You don’t find safety a turn-on?”
