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I shook my head. “No.”
“A little sad about that?” she teased.
I snorted. “No.”
“I’m not going to lie, I’m excited to meet this guy. For real. He made quite the impression, even over the phone.”
I rolled my eyes. “Do I look pregnant?”
“No.”
“You sure? Mrs. Harmon said my skin was glowing. That’s basically a poster sign for pregnancy.”
“Now that you mention it”—she glanced at me—“you are kind of glowing. Looks good on you.”
“Thanks,” I muttered.
“Did he really not pin you down for another non-date date?”
“No pinning me down. Do you think he’s playing hard to get?”
“Playing hard to get? Really?”
“Sorry, I know it sounds stupid.”
“He said he wasn’t going to bail on you.”
“Saying and doing are not the same.”
“You haven’t given him enough time to prove he means what he says.”
“My head hurts.”
“Oh, sorry. I’ll be quiet.”
“Notactually.It was just a figure of speech.”
“Do you want to grab a cup of coffee—not coffee—tea or something? Stop and celebrate our second success as a catering team?”
I grinned at her. “You’re sweet to try and distract me.”
“It’s not working, is it?”
I shook my head.
Jazz detoured down the street toward the bakery. “Ugh, will they ever fix the road?”
“At least they’re not drilling at the ass-crack of dawn anymore,” I remarked. “That was fun…”
We parked in the back lot of the bakery and then unloaded everything from her car.
“Brielle and I are going to hang out tonight,” she said. “If you decide you want to come, we’ll be at her apartment. Just chilling. Nothing crazy.”
“You mean, no Irish step-dancing?” I teased.
“She lives on the top floor. That would just be cruel to her downstairs neighbor.”
“Unless he’s a jerk.” I smiled.
