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On the other side was a giant bouquet, and hidden just behind it, was David. “These are for you.”
“Oh wow, thanks.” The bottom was a box with handles to hold the large arrangement.
He poked his head out from the side. “I had them include a vase, just in case.”
“Thank you.” I took the heavy bouquet from him, touching his hands briefly as I did. Despite the lack of intimacy the other day, but a whole lot of what I thought was chemistry, my body was still involuntarily reacting to him in a very carnal way.
I stood there as a debate settled in. Did I invite him in? Did I show him the pieces? I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do.
Leave it to Libby to figure it out. “We were just having coffee. Let me get you one. How do you like it, David?”
“Who’s that?” He whispered, as his gaze flew up the landing where Libby had disappeared from sight.
Damn.
“That’s my friend, Libby. She works at Sylvia’s Bakery.” I stepped back on the landing. “Why don’t you come in?”
He hesitated for a heartbeat. “Sure, but I can’t stay long. I didn’t come to impose. I just wanted to make sure I dropped off the flowers in person. You never know if or when these teenage drivers will actually make a delivery. However, I have time for a quick coffee, but I need to be at the restaurant before it opens in an hour.”
“Isn’t someone there already to start getting things ready?”
Of course, while it was laced with sarcasm, I hadn’t been playful enough in my tone, and his brows knit together as his eyes narrowed slightly.
He picked at the edge of his beard, but followed it up with a wink. “Yes, my floor manager is there, but, as you know, I like to micromanage, so I need to be there too. Make sure they are doing it correctly.”
“Sorry, that was a dumb thing to have asked.”
“It’s all good.” At least he chuckled when he spoke, although the soft nudge against my forearm was enough to fire up the girlish giggles inside me.
“Please, don’t linger and come in.”
We walked up the stairs and into the kitchen. Libby was refilling the pod for the machine.
“How do you like your coffee?”
“Libby, is it?”
“That’s right. You’re the owner of the Birch Bay Burgers, and you’ve taken my friend out on a fun berry-picking and pie-making date.” The way she said it, it sounded like I shared every detail with her about David, which wasn’t true. She didn’t know he was divorced.
“You’re a regular at the restaurant?” He stood by my 1950’s style table, placing his hands on the back of a metal-edged, vinyl-padded chair.
“Not anymore.” She turned away. “I live at the bakery, so when I’m not there, I’m not really anywhere. Except here, once in a while.”
David mouthed the wordsnot anymore.
I thought I’d die a little. Libby was always painfully honest, but this was a moment that could call for a little white lie and no one would be the wiser. She used to visit Birch Bay Burgers, until I shared my personal tale with her.
Libby bounced around the counter, as I stood there, unable to articulate my thoughts. “How do you take your coffee? You haven’t really said.”
David shrugged and sent a quick look in my direction. “I’m not picky. Black? With cream? Really, whatever is easiest.”
She opened my fridge and pulled out the homogenized milk.
“She makes a mean cup of coffee, you’re sure to enjoy it.” I set my sights on David, but it was really hard to not watch Libby jump around.
“Interesting. I may need to hire you at the restaurant.” David let out a soft laugh.
“You can’t afford me.”
