She peeked at me through her fingers. “You’re... not?”
“No.”
She blinked. “Even after the... ‘lure the man’ part?”
I grinned despite myself. “Listen, I’ve been lured in worse ways. There was a time I got roped into a hot yoga class because someone promised me soft pretzels afterward.”
Fifi blinked. Then burst out laughing. “And I was hoping you’d give our goat yoga a try.”
It was such aFifisound with bubbly and involuntary gurgles
“Seriously,” I said, lowering the bags to the desk. “It’s not a bad plan.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s aterribleplan.”
“No, it’s sweet. And ridiculous. And—” I paused. “—very you.”
That shut her up for half a second.
Then her voice came out soft. “I wasn’t trying to mess with you.”
“I know.”
“I just thought maybe… you needed a little something different.”
I studied her for a beat. The nervous energy in her hands. The way she shifted her weight, ready to bolt.
And I felt something soften in me that I hadn’t even realized was still hard.
“You’re right,” I said quietly. “I did.”
I don’t know what I expected after admitting I’d seen her plan, but I certainly didn’t expect the silence that followed.
Fifi stood there, eyes locked on mine, her arms now free of grocery bags and slowly folding across her chest like she was either preparing to scold me again or let me live.
The jury was still out.
“You swear you weren’t snooping?” she asked, tone suspicious but no longer panicked.
“I swear,” I said. “Scout’s honor.”
She squinted. “I suspect you were never a Scout.”
“Details,” I said, lifting a shoulder. “It was open. I glanced. I didn’t know I was about to stumble into an elaborate covert ops mission.”
“Operation: Lure the Man,” she muttered with a groan, dragging a hand down her face.
“Catchy title.”
“Oh my God.”
“And the snacks, I have to say, bold strategy. You could lureanyonewith snacks.”
“Do not encourage me.”
“I mean, if you’re gonna stage an ambush, Graham crackers are a power move, but what about the brie?”
“I also make savory s’mores.”
