“Ladies,” I said politely, “would you like your usual order?”
“Oh yes,” Mrs. Douglas said, waving a gloved hand. “But we can chat and order at the same time, dear.”
Excellent, exactly what I wanted. A multitasking interrogation.
I pulled out three empty plates, lining them up. “He’s just here to work on property paperwork for his grandfather. That’s all.”
Mrs. McAvoy leaned closer, eyes sparkling with trouble. “Aye, but he’s been in here every day, hasn’t he?”
“He likes soup,” I said weakly. “Everyone likes soup.”
Mrs. Lennox sniffed delicately. “Honestly, Brianna, you should just tell us you’ve taken a liking to the lad. No shame in it. He’s very handsome.”
I nearly dropped a scone.
“He’s… fine.”
Mrs. Douglas let out a delighted laugh. “Fine? FINE? Oh, I know that tone. That’s the ‘I don’t want to talk about it, but I absolutely have feelings’ tone.”
“I don’t– he’s not–” I pressed my lips together. “He’s just a customer. That’s it.”
“Mmhm,” Mrs. McAvoy murmured. “And I’m the Queen of Sheba.”
They moved along the counter with smug little smiles while I packaged their pastries, each of them continuing to glance over their shoulders at Oliver.
Mrs. McAvoy gave one last pointed look at Oliver as she reached for her purse. “A bonnie lad like that, Brianna… I’m just saying.”
I opened my mouth to protest again, but before I could utter a single syllable, a voice came from behind them, steady, polite, and unmistakably amused.
“Excuse me,” Oliver said gently. “I don’t mean to interrupt…”
All three women turned at once, as I stared. He was suddenly right there at the counter, his expression was perfectly courteous, but his eyes–oh, they were warm. Almost playful.
“…but I wanted to check if Brianna and I were still on for later this evening?”
My brain emptied itself in a single heartbeat. Later this evening? What? I stared at him, heat blooming up my neck. He held my gaze with a small, teasing curve of his mouth–just enough for me to understand what he was doing. Rescuing me from the gossip and maybe enjoying it a little too much.
“Oh—umm…” I managed, cheeks burning. “Yes. Of course. We’re still on. Can’t wait.”
His smile deepened, slow and infuriatingly charming. “Excellent, I will see you tonight then.”
The ladies’ mouths dropped open in delighted unison. Mrs. Douglas pressed a hand to her chest, Mrs. Lennox made a sound like she’d just won the lottery and Mrs. McAvoy nudged the others so hard they nearly toppled like dominoes.
Oliver slid his card across the counter to pay for his meal, his expression the picture of polite innocence.
“Thank you, Brianna,” he said softly.
Then, with a courteous nod toward the trio, he added, “Ladies,” warm, smooth, and impossibly graceful and turned toward the door.
The bell chimed as he stepped outside into the snowfall, silence. Then,
“Oh, Brianna…” Mrs. Douglas whispered dramatically, fanning herself with her receipt. “You didn’t tell us it was likethat.”
I made a strangled sound. “It’s not– He’s–We’re not–!”
“It’s all right, dear,” Mrs. Lennox said, gathering her pastries with a triumphant smile. “Your secret’s safe with us.”
“It absolutely is not!” I called after them.
