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“Nope,” Alex said. “I’ve got all sorts of good stuff here. Tell me what you’d like, Brooklyn, and I’ll make you a plate.”
“Sweet. I’ll take some of everything, thanks.”
“You got it.”
While Alex worked on serving Brooklyn, Mia searched on her cell for the nearest car rental location. It was that or sit and stare at his butt, looking adorable beneath the tie to her pink apron. And it’d be her luck to have Brooklyn catch her staring. Instead, she searched and scrolled.
Perfect, there were five locations within thirty miles.
“Ermagurd, this French toast is amaaaaazing,” Brooklyn said with her mouth full, syrup dribbling out one side.
Mia gave her the “mind your manners” look all good mothers had mastered, then went back to her search. Location one, only twelve minutes away: closed on Sundays. Well, that was a bummer. Location two, also closed. Same for location three. Clearly, these had to be the small fish in the sea.
“Mia?”
“Hmm?” She spared a brief glance up from her phone.
Alex had picked up a fresh plate. “What would you like to eat?”
You. She gave herself a mental smack and him a grateful smile. “A little bit of everything would be great, thank you.”
Need him gone, she sang silently to herself.Need him soooo gone.
“By the way, I texted your friend Max last night. You were right. He said he’d be happy to chat with me about his company. Maybe we could swing by there together before I head out of town?”
“Yeah, no problem.”
Funny, for once seeing Max—her secret crush since the second grade—didn’t sound nearly as appealing as usual. Maybe it had to do with Alex standing in her kitchen, looking all sexy and domesticated. Though, since Max was happily married, having her childhood crush diminished was probably a good thing. Finally, something positive about Alex being here.
That didn’t mean, however, that she wanted him to stay.
Mia scrolled on to location number four. No go.
Sweat broke out along her brow. Surely, some place had to be open on Sundays! She spun from the others, held her breath, and tapped on the fifth location in her search. This one had a handy “hours of operation” listing right inside the search. She scrolled slowly, hoping to improve her odds:
MONDAY–FRIDAY: 7 A.M.–8 P.M.
SATURDAY: 7 A.M.–NOON
SUNDAY: CLOSED
Defeat seeped into her bones. There would be no getting rid of Alex in the next few minutes or even next few hours. He had nowhere to rent a car, and she wasn’t wretched enough to throw him to the curb. But how to break it to him that he’d be stuck in Bourbon Falls for another day?
She turned back to the others and found Alex and Brooklyn in a debate over the proper temperature to serve maple syrup and an overflowing plate of breakfast goodness sitting before her. Gah, she felt terrible having to be the bearer of bad news.
“I don’t know. I mean, I’ve only ever had it served cold,” Brooklyn said. “Or maybe room temperature. But never warm.”
Mia poured cold syrup over her stack, refusing to be fussy. Or to have to wait another minute to try these perfectly coated, golden-brown masterpieces.
“Funny, I’ve only ever had it warmed. Next time, you can try some of mine.”
Next time? Why was Alex suggesting—?
The light bulb in her mind flickered to life.
Alex had a laptop. And a cell phone. And he’d put all this effort into making them a veritable feast, which could only mean one thing:
“You knew the rental places were all closed today, didn’t you?”
