“That sounds really unsexy.” Ben looked down at his shirt. “But this is technically cotton-blend. Moisture-wicking.”
“Wow, you reallydoread those tags.”
“Only the important ones. Breathability matters when a woman with pie is seducing you.”
“That isnothow seduction works,” I managed.
“No?” he asked innocently. “Because it’s working.”
I gave him a look, cheeks burning. “Do they not have subtlety in Florida?”
“We have humidity and sarcasm. You get used to both.”
The sun filtered through the café’s hanging planters, casting leaf shadows on the table, and for a second, it felt like time slowed down, just enough to notice the way he looked at me when I wasn’t trying to be funny. Like I’d surprised him. Like maybe he was still trying to figure out how this happened so fast, but he wasn’t ready to let go of it either.
“So,” he said, brushing a crumb from the edge of his plate, “what are you doing tomorrow?”
I blinked. “Tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” He leaned back, relaxed, eyes shaded and unreadable. “You already dazzled me with carbs and lakeside views. Thought I’d try my hand at scheduling a follow-up.”
It hit me then, how badly Iwantedto say yes. How much I’d love another day like this. But I also knew what tomorrow looked like.
I made a face. “Ugh. Tomorrow’s the start of the Summerberry Festival.”
Ben tilted his head. “That sounds… vaguely made up.”
“It’s very real and extremely chaotic,” I said, setting my napkin on my empty plate. “All the lodge staff is pulled into it.”
“So, the whole family?” he teased.
“Right. Except for my dad. He’s up in Alaska. Anyway, I’m on booth duty from dawn till dinner. Plus, we’re hosting two craft vendors and coordinating snack delivery.”
“Sounds like a logistical nightmare.”
I gave him a tight smile. “Itis.But people love it. Tourists go wild for local jams and painted rocks.”
He chuckled. “So that’s a no for tomorrow.”
“I’ll be covered in glitter and rhubarb by noon.”
“Oddly specific.”
“Learned from experience.”
Ben nodded like he was filing the entire thing away. “Okay. Day after?”
I blinked. “What?”
“Day after tomorrow,” he repeated, casually. “Are you free?”
I tried not to smile too hard. “I think so.”
“Great. I want to take you somewhere.”
Now Ididsmile. “Oh yeah? Secret waterfall? More surprise picnics?”
He leaned closer, voice low. “You’ll have to wait and see. But it involves fewer angry beavers.”
