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I’m not sure what we’re even talking about now. Is this still about business? It doesn’t feel like it. And when had the shift occurred? It feels like I’m flirting with Harlow and she’s flirting back.
“Care to elaborate?” I ask.
The silence stretches out between us for several seconds before Harlow answers.
“I should go. We’ll talk soon.”
Disappointed that she’s ending our conversation, I almost sigh. But I switch my voice back to professional mode instead. “Right. I’ll come by tomorrow with the contract and get started.”
“Sounds great. Thanks, Linc.”
We end the call, but I remain sitting in my truck in my driveway for several minutes, replaying the conversation in my head. Why had I asked her that? It just came out. I hadn’t planned the words. But she’d kept it going. Right? Had I offended her? I hope not. Her voice had been teasing when she’d asked if she was my boss now. But maybe that had just been normal teasing and I’d just read something into it that didn’t exist. I lower my forehead to the steering wheel with a sigh. Why do I have to be so awkward around her? The next couple of weeks should be interesting.
Chapter 9
Harlow
I stare at the phone in my hand for several minutes after ending the call with Linc. What the hell was that? Had I just been flirting with him? Had he flirted back? Why did I make that boss comment? I'd just meant it as a teasing sort of question, but then his voice had shifted, and I’d had all sorts of inappropriate thoughts about being bossed around. By Linc.
I shift a little in my chair as I feel a little thrill run through me at the idea. I allow myself a moment to picture what that would look like. Linc, in control. Telling me what to do. Telling me how to please him. A little sigh escapes me, and I can feel myself grow wet just thinking about it. What the hell is wrong with me? Two encounters with the man and I’m picturing him naked like some sort of sex fiend. I need help.
My phone buzzes in my hand, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s Piper. I texted her last night to tell her that Linc had agreed to help with the repairs and was coming by this morning to assess the situation. I hadn’t given her all the details of our conversation yesterday, though. I’m sure she’s dying to know everything.
Piper: I just saw Linc leave. What’s the verdict?
I start to type out a response and then delete it. Nothing I can say in a text will adequately explain. Besides, I could use some coffee.
Me: I’m coming to the shop.
Piper: Ooh, that bad? Your latte will be ready when you get here.
I smile as I grab my keys and shut off the lights in the shop. Piper knows me well. We’ve grown close since she moved here nearly a year ago. Before she moved to Peach Tree, I didn’t have any close friends I could confide in. I’ve grown used to her presence in my life in a short time. I like knowing I have someone nearby to celebrate my wins with or to commiserate when life punches me in the tit. I’m glad she’s sticking around. I know I have Luke to thank for that. He helped make her shop a success when this town wouldn’t give her much of a chance. Granted, she’d also fallen hard for the guy in the process, but I don’t blame her for that. Luke Wolfe is one of the hottest guys in this town.
That thought brings me back to the actual hottest guy in town, Linc. At least, in my opinion. Luke has that golden boy thing going for him, which is nice if you’re into that. But Linc? I let out a little involuntary sigh as I lock the front door. The long, dark hair? The beard? The callouses on his hands that I’d felt for just a few seconds yesterday? Not to mention those thickly muscled arms peeking out from his shirt sleeves. Add in the quiet, brooding personality and he’s the perfect male specimen. My stomach flips again and I feel another rush of heat to my core. Just thinking about that man is enough to turn me into a raging ball of sexual tension. I don’t know how I’m going to get through working with him every day. Why had I thought that was a good idea?
My thoughts ramble in circles as I make the short walk to Piping Hot Brews, the coffee shop that Piper owns. It’s an adorable shop filled with lots of comfortable chairs and bookshelves. It’s the perfect place to come and enjoy a cup of coffee and a good book. And there’s no place like it in town. Once the people here finally gave Piper and her coffee shop a chance, Piping Hot started thriving. Now, I see the white cups with the shop’s logo on them all over town. I’m happy for my friend’s success, especially since it means she’s going to stay in Peach Tree. I’ve gotten spoiled having a friend living and working just down the street. I don’t want to go back to being alone here.
The tinkling bell on Piping Hot’s front door pulls me out of my musings and I see Piper smiling at me from behind the counter, a steaming cup in her hand. I flash her a wide grin and make my way over to take the cup from her. Inhaling deeply, I savor the scent of the coffee.
“You are a true hero among women,” I say, raising the cup to my lips for a sip.
Piper rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Wait until you taste my blueberry coffee cake.”
She hands me a small plate with a thick slice of cake along with a fork.
“Oh, my god. You’re amazing,” I gush. “Tell me, did it hurt?”
When she just looks at me blankly, I say, “When you fell from heaven?”
She rolls her eyes again. “Shut up and stop stalling,” she says, pointing toward the back corner of the shop where a small sofa sits empty. “Come sit with me and tell me what’s happening with the shop. What did Linc say?”
At the mention of his name, I feel that stupid fluttery sensation again, but I keep my focus on the coffee and pastry in my hand and hope Piper doesn’t notice. We make our way over to the couch and sit. I make a show of getting comfortable, taking my time. Piper just watches me, waiting patiently. I take a big bite of the coffee cake and take my time chewing, not just to stall for time but also because it’s the best damned coffee cake I’ve ever eaten.
“Holy shit,” I say, trying not to spray crumbs as I talk with my mouth full. “This is fucking delicious!”
Piper laughs and hands me a napkin. “Thanks,” she says. “Luke said the same thing, but I wondered if he was just biased.”
I shrug. “He’s definitely biased. We both are. But that doesn’t mean this cake isn’t amazing. Because it is.” I shovel another forkful of the moist, crumbly cake into my mouth, savoring it.
