“I do feel guilty for stealing your guy.” A simple statement which didn’t even come close to convoying the depths of her guilt. She felt it now, even if she hadn’t felt it last night.
“Relax, Honey. There will be other guys. Like for example, Mr. Suit and Tie. Over there, in the corner. He came in while you were in the kitchen.”
Honey picked up the coffee pot and turned to face the direction Lacy indicated. A thin blonde man sat in the corner, studying the menu. He wore what was obviously an expensive suit. “Mr. GQ?” Honey asked. “He looks like a stuffed shirt to me.”
“Don’t let the suit fool you. He’s smoking hot. He’s got the sexiest grin and the prettiest blue eyes. And, get this, his keys are for a Lamborghini. A frickin’ Lamborghini. Here, in Coyote Creek.”
“Wow. He must be passing through.”
“Don’t be silly, even the filthy rich don’t wear suits for long travel, and let’s face it, Coyote Creek is a long way from just about everywhere.”
“Don’t get your hopes up, he’s probably only here on business.”
“Hey, he’s here now and I’m going make him notice me. Who knows, maybe he’ll fall for me and whisk me away to some exciting foreign country.”
“Go for it! I’ll be here to back you up. Go. Flirt. Dazzle him. You’re worth it.” Lacy was adorable in her eagerness. It was fabulous that she let Ira go so easily. Sure, she’d talked about him, but over the months he’d been coming into the restaurant, she’d never once made a move and Ira had never shown any interest in Lacy. If either had, Honey would never have agreed to dinner. At least she hoped she’d be equally honorable.
“Go, take him coffee, take his order. Stop stalling,” Honey gave her friend an encouraging shove. “Snag that man.”
“Wish me luck!” Lacy grabbed the second coffee pot and sashayed toward her dream man.
Honey watched without seeming to, praying the man wasn’t a total jerk who would wound her friend’s loving heart. Lacy wasn’t great about approaching men, she fumbled badly around new men. Lacy eagerly approaching Mr. GQ was both encouraging and worrisome.
The door chimed and she glanced toward the sound. Ira and Flint wandered in, taking the first available table. She poured two coffees and headed their way.
“Flint, Ira, what brings you guys in at this time of day?” Eleven a.m. was an unusual time for either of them.
“We’re waiting on a supply order from the feed store and thought we’d grab a coffee.” Ira smiled at her.
“I wanted to go to the bakery and get a donut, Flint said. “But this guy insisted on coming here. He wants chocolate mousse, so here we are.” He spread his arms in a look at us gesture.
“Bummer, because we don’t have any mousse today. Can I get you something else, Ira?”
Flint glanced back and forth between them. “Oh. It’s like that is it?”
Heat rose in Honey’s face. “Like what?”
“He’s not here for mousse, he’s here for you,” Flint crowed. “I’m not getting my donut, so this better be worth it.”
“Stuff it, Flint,” Ira growled. “How can I resist the charm of the lovely ladies here at Tammy’s. Pretty and friendly. Besides, pie will be great. Whatever you’ve got is good for me. Want anything Flint?” he asked, without taking his eyes off Honey.
Unable to help herself, Honey smiled at Ira. The man was too cute for his own good, and for her sanity. Ira seeking her out after their date last night was sweet.
“I’ll have apple pie with a double scoop of ice cream, if it’s from the Scoop.”
“Isn’t it always?” Honey asked. “Does anyone in town serve anything else?” The Scoop was on main street beside Tuscan Gardens and specialized in ice cream, shakes, and sundaes. It was the brain child of a local dairy farmer looking for a way to increase income and add to the town’s tourism draw. Their ice cream was to die for. It outsold the major brands at the grocery store.
“Ira, are you sure you don’t want to choose your dessert?” She asked.
“I trust you implicitly. Bring whatever you think I’ll enjoy.”
“Okay,” she said warily. “I’ll figure it out.” Ira Castillo was different from the other men she knew. He seemed to trust her fully. Granted, it was only dessert, but most people had a favorite. Hers was the mile high chocolate cake with ice cream and whipped cream. She didn’t eat it often; her waistline definitely didn’t approve of the massive treat.
“Here you go,” she said a few minutes later, sliding their desserts in front of them. “One apple pie, one chocolate cake.”
“Wow, this looks incredible, but it’s enormous. I can’t eat it all. Join me? We can share,” Ira offered.
“That’s an offer too good to pass up. Let me grab another fork.” She glanced around to be sure her customers didn’t need anything, hurried across the restaurant and was back in seconds, fork in hand. She slid into the booth beside Flint, across from Ira so she could watch him eat. Okay, it was really so she didn’t lean into him and give into the unbearable urge to touch him.
