Page 81 of Lease to Love

His eyes held mine for another second. “Noted.”

I shoved another fry into my mouth and decided that if my heart wanted to keep acting stupid, it could do that on its own time.

Preferably somewhere Roman Sterling couldn't see it.

Chapter Ten

Roman

By the time the Fall Fair rolled around, I had officially lost track of how many times I'd taken Summer out.

Not dates, technically… Outings.

There was a distinction, and I intended to maintain it… At first.

Coffee had become breakfast. Breakfast had become lunch. Lunch had become dinner. Dinner had become walks through the neighborhood that somehow lasted two hours because Summer knew everybody and everybody apparently had something they needed to tell her.

The strangest part was how quickly it had stopped feeling like work.

In the beginning, every outing had been planned. I knew who I needed to meet, what I needed to learn, which businesses were struggling, and which relationships could move the initiative forward. Summer made all of it easier, because she could walk into any room in Langston Park and make people feel like they'd been waiting for her specifically.

But somewhere along the way, I stopped checking my watch. I stopped counting introductions. I started looking forward to the next time I would see her.

That was a problem… A bigger one was that I wasn't sure I cared.

The fair was crowded enough to make me reconsider that last statement.

“Roman.”

I glanced down at Summer.

She was standing in front of a food stall, staring at me like I had a good five seconds to decide what I was getting before she ordered without me.

“Churros,” I said with a shrug.

She shook her head immediately. “Absolutely not.”

“Why the hell not? They're churros.”

“Exactly.”

I gave her a dry look. “And what the hell is wrong with churros?”

“Nothing is wrong with churros. They're just… boring.”

I pointed toward the menu. “They're fried dough covered in cinnamon sugar.”

“Which is boring.” She turned toward me with the kind of expression she usually reserved for particularly offensive business decisions. “If you're going to eat something fried and covered in sugar, have a little imagination.”

I already knew I wasn't going to like where this was going.

“Sweet potato funnel cakes.”

I stared at her. “No.”

“Yes.”

“That's not a thing.”