Page 13 of Freeing Lark

“Hoot?” Cammie slid a to-go cup across the counter. “There you go.”

He picked it up reverently. The espresso smelled like heaven itself. He took one careful sip. Perfect.

“You’re a miracle worker.”

“I’ll accept that compliment.”

He nodded toward the espresso machine. “You should. If Jeeves hadn’t already claimed you, I’d ask you to marry me.”

Cup in hand, he turned toward the front door, Cammie’s laughter following him. The bell jingled. The door swung inward. And someone walked directly into him. The cup lurched.

“Oh,” a feminine voice called out as dark espresso launched into the air. It landed with remarkable accuracy across his shirt, pants, and one shoe. Thank goodness he’d left his suit jacket in the truck, or that would have been soiled as well.

He closed his eyes. Of course. Just what his day needed. And it wasn’t even oh-eight hundred.

“Oh no,” the female voice was suddenly very familiar. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Hoot opened one eye. The woman from the island stared at him in horror. Her shoulder-length auburn hair escaped a messy knot, and today she wore paint-speckled overalls over a soft green T-shirt. A canvas messenger bag hung across her body, several pencils sticking out of one pocket. She looked exactly like someone who accidentally stranded herself on an island.

“Oh my gosh.” She grabbed a stack of napkins from a nearby table. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“I noticed.”

She winced. “I deserve that.”

She began blotting espresso from the front of his shirt before realizing her hands were heading somewhere dangerous. “Oh.” She immediately stepped back.

“Personal space.”

“Right. Sorry,” she said… again. He was beginning to think apologizing was her primary form of communication. “I’ll buy you another one cup.”

“It’s fine.”

“And I’ll pay to have your clothes cleaned.”

“They’re washable.”

“I still feel awful.”

“I’m sure you do.”

She sighed. “You really don’t smile much, do you?”

“No.”

“I was hoping maybe you’d started.”

“Nope.”

“Still grumpy,” she muttered under her breath.

“Still irresponsible,” he shot back.

She blinked and the smile in her eyes died a little. He suddenly felt like a complete dick.

He was about to offer his own apology for his snarky words when Marilyn appeared. “Sweetheart.” The older woman wrapped her in an enthusiastic hug. “There you are. You didn’t tell me you were coming this morning.”

“I finished organizing the studio space.”