Page 61 of Matchmaking On The Menu

Okay, the name needs some work.

I hold out the takeaway cup. “Here. Double caramel latte. Just the way you like it.”

He frowns and reaches out for the cup, but there’s a little bit of hesitation there. Is he suspicious of me? Okay, he should be because I do have an ulterior motive, but still, what does he usually think of me if basic kindness is throwing him off?

I mean, I’m friendly. I was raised to be polite and courteous. I’m not a bitch.

Have I been aloof? Has what happened with Darren made me that wary that I’m giving off the wrong vibes with any guy now? Even someone as sweet as Luke?

The thought brings back a snippet of conversation I’d rather not give the time of day right now, and I feel myself hesitate for half a second before I forcibly shake it off. Never mind. Focus.

I glance around the shop, dragging my attention away from him. It’s surprisingly neat for a place where oil and grease are basically part of the décor.

“Nice place you’ve got here.”

Wow. Riveting, Shelly. Truly Oscar-worthy small talk. Good thing I didn’t come in here with a plan to flirt my way to getting what I want.

Although, the thought had crossed my mind. But Luke is too sweet to be messed with like that, and if I’m honest, I’m so gun-shy now that I can’t ever see myself flirting ever again. Me and men do not have a great track record.

“Uh… thanks.”

He looks around like he’s seeing it for the first time. The flicker of pride on his face gives me the warm fuzzies.

He looks back at me. “So, what can I help you with today, Shelly? I feel like I should be earning this latte.”

Right. Time to execute the plan.

“Do you only service vehicles with engines?”

He blinks.

I blink.

There’s a split second where my brain catches up with my mouth, replaying the sentence in real time, word by word, like it might somehow improve on a second pass.

It does not. Crap!

“As in fix. Work on. You know.”

“Oh… uh… yeah. Mostly. Why do you ask?”

Abort eye contact.

I walk over to the car and lean in like I know what I’m doing, committing fully to the performance because backing out now would be worse, and I do not back out of things. I don’t. I also know absolutely nothing about engines. I once nearly blew up my apartment trying to attach a plug to a lamp. Still, this is better than looking him in the eye while I lie.

“This is where you earn your coffee,” I say. “Promise you won’t judge?”

I glance up because, surprisingly, batting my eyelashes at spark plugs like a damsel in distress is not helping, and also possibly sending the wrong message entirely.

He makes a cross over his heart and grins. “Promise.”

Oh, that was too easy. That should concern me.

“I’ve always wanted a tandem bike,” I say. “Which is inconvenient, because I currently have two separate bikes. I was wondering if you could… combine them?”

There’s a split second of silence where even I hear how that sounds. God, this is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever said out loud. Why didn’t anyone stop me? Oh right, Quadri tried.

Well, I’m committed now. There’s no way I’m letting her I-told-you-so me.