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“Hi,” he said, cold mist puffing out of his mouth.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“This is act of grand, groveling regret number one.” He walked forward and held the roses out for me.
I stared at them. “Give them to someone who cares.”
“Harper, please, just let me talk to you for a few minutes. Five minutes. That’s all I ask.”
I walked past him, feeling my eyes sting. Why did my damn eyes have to always undermine any attempt I made at being hard and badass? I rushed across the street and into my building before he could see me falter.
Roses? Did he really think some flowers were going to even chip at the giant wall of fuckupery he’d built brick by brick? Nope. Not even close, Greyson.
I went to my car the next morning. It was four A.M. and I had half a dozen stops to make for pickups to get the restaurant ready. I was bleary eyed, still pissed about last night, and totally not expecting to see Greyson standing by Rose. He had a tray of cookies in his hand.
“I made them myself,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. “No, you didn’t.”
“I did, taste one.”
I may have been pissed, but I was also too curious to not even taste them. I picked one up and took a bite, then nearly spit it out. “Jesus. You really did make these. They’re terrible.”
“Any advice for the next batch?”
“Yes. Quit cooking before you kill somebody.”
I paused with my hand on the door. “What are you trying to do, Greyson?”
“I want to talk to you so I can properly apologize.”
“That’s great, but I don’t want to hear it. Last time you apologized to me, I forgave you. Remember what happened next? Yeah, you basically plopped my heart in a blender and put it on obliterate speed. I promised myself I wouldn’t give you another chance, and some shitty cookies aren’t going to change that.”
“What about good cookies?”
I rolled my eyes. “You know what? Since you like making idiotic bets so much, maybe you’ll enjoy this. If you can make me a cookie that actually tastes good, I’ll give you those five minutes.”
“It’s a bet,” he said, grinning.
I shook my head at him and got in the car, slamming the door for effect.
44
GREYSON
I knocked gently, then opened the door to Halladay’s Bagels. I still had the coupon Harper had given me almost four months ago. It was wrinkled, but still intact. “Any chance you’d honor this?” I asked.
Harper’s mom tossed a rag over her shoulder and folded her arms. “You know Harper forbade me from being nice to you if you came in.”
“When was that?”
“Yesterday. She said you’re trying to get her to forgive you.”
“That’s right. And I was hoping you could help.”
Her mom quirked an eyebrow. “From the way she tells it, you already broke her heart twice. How do I know you won’t do it a third time?”
Damn. I knew I’d fucked up twice, but breaking her heart? It was only ever supposed to be casual. As far as I’d seen it, all I did was cut things off before they got beyond that. But if Harper was calling it heart break, I’d obviously been too late both times.
“I’m all out of excuses to run away,” I said. “And I just spent a long ass time in D.C. realizing what an idiot I was for thinking I could forget about her and move on. I’m still crazy about Harper. Crazier than I was before I fucked things up–pardon my language.”
She smirked. “Hmm. I did swear to her that I wouldn’t be nice. So if you want my help, I’m going to have to give it angrily.”
“Can you teach me how to bake a cookie Harper will like?”
Her mom frowned. “What?”
45
HARPER
Gabby and Farrah were talking about something excitedly at the expo counter. The two of them had become pretty close, so it wasn’t entirely unusual to hear them chatting when they should be working. Still, something about their tone caught my interest. I crept out from the back and tried to eavesdrop.
“You think he’s here for her?” Gabby asked.
“Oh, absolutely,” Farrah said. “He asked if he could speak to the chef to personally explain how he wants his steak cooked.”
Oh hell, I thought. I walked out, catching their attention. “Is it Greyson?”
“How’d you know?” Farrah asked. “Wait. Did you already know he was back in town?”
“Yes,” I said simply. I hadn’t told anyone about my run-ins with Greyson yet because I still wasn’t sure how I felt about them. I wanted a chance to figure it out on my own without my friends screaming that I should shove him out a window or something. “And you can tell him the chef doesn’t leave the kitchen. He can send the message through you, if it’s so important.”
