“Maybeyou should watch where you’re going.” I level him with a look.
“Okay, ma’am. I’m going to be polite right now and take the blame even though you were barreling out the door like you were a rodeo bull, and I had no time to get out of your way.”
Everyone in the coffee shop is staring out at us. I tug my hat further down and frown at him. “Never mind. I’m going to—” I wave my hand toward the bathroom, then very calmly and sedately walk to the door, open it, lock the door, and hide in the bathroom long enough that hopefully everyone will have forgotten I exist. When I finally walk out, the redhead is leaning against the counter, chatting with someone, his long legs crossed, his eyes laser-focused on the bathroom door.
Ugh.
“Thought you’d escaped out the window,” he bellows.
“It was too small,” I mutter.
“You’re tiny. I figured you’d fit.”
My whole body freezes, and I have to order my legs to keep walking.
“Let me buy you another coffee as an apology.”
“No, thank you.”
He follows me out the door, his long legs keeping pace with me. “You’re staying in one of the cottages at Heaven, aren’t you?”
I step out onto the street, making a beeline for my bike. He sticks a hand out, grabs me, and pulls me back onto the sidewalk just as a car honks and swerves.
I yank away from his grasp, my pulse pounding in my ears.
“Didn’t mean to scare you. We’ve got plenty of people here who feel like they have the right of way when the light is green. So, you might want to watch where you’re going.”
“Touché.”
“Interesting. You speak French?”
I glance over at him and sigh loudly. “Please have a nice day. Somewhere else in another direction.”
“I’m going this way.” We cross the street, his stridestillfrustratingly level with mine. “I’ve got to see if I have a change of pants in my pickup. Somebody spilled coffee on them.”
I ignore him, thinking instead about how we’re passing the park bench that I usually sit at to caffeinate while people watching before I hop back on my bike and ride back to the cottage.
Yeah, Ireallymiss that coffee. I should have taken him up on the offer for another cup. Or even better, although the coffee sucks there, I should have walked to the gas station a couple blocks down and grabbed one because sucky gas station coffee without the current company would have been so much better.
He’s still keeping stride, looking down at me with his light blue eyes—another thing he has in common with my first crush. How many men have red hair and blue eyes? It’s got to be some kind of gorgeous genetic anomaly.
“Are you by the lake or in the forest?”
“Yes,” I say because he’s staring at me, waiting for a reply, and his blue eyes are annoyingly unsettling.
“Huh.” He tips his hat at a couple walking past. “It’d be a difficult decision for me, but I’d choose forest over lake if someone had a gun to my head and I had to choose.”
“Hopefully, for your sake, that never happens.” I stop in front of my bike, figuring he’ll continue on his annoying way, maybe with another antiquated gentlemanly tip of his cowboy hat and a “ma’am.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. I was getting the idea that you might not like me.”
I tuck my bag into the cooler with the groceries I already picked up at Greene’s. “I have no idea why you think that.”
“You bike from Heaven?” He lifts an eyebrow. “Impressive.”And then heactuallygives my legs a once-over.
“Why is that so impressive? Because I’m ‘tiny?’” I glare, but he’s oblivious because my sunglasses are too dark. It ruins the whole effect.
“Yep.” He crosses his arms. “What? I shouldn’t have called you tiny?”
