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“It’s nothing. Just something Franc said. I can’t seem to let it go.”
“What’d he say?”
“Nothing worth repeating.”
“Hmm.” I tapped my chin. “I think you don’t want to repeat it because he hit a nerve—something he and only a few others can do.”
He shifted in his seat. “How’s your coffee?”
If he wanted to change the subject, I wasn’t going to stop him. “Amazing as always. I swear Michael puts some sort of voodoo magic in each cup that leaves me addicted.”
Nero laughed and covered his mouth.
“What’s so funny?”
His eyes cut to me, eyebrow arched, an adorable smirk on his sexy mouth. “I’m just picturing Michael in the back lighting candles and pulling out a spell book.”
“And Kenneth walking in, staring at him, one hand under his chin, the other waving around.” I mimicked the movement and continued. “Saying my mother warned me about you. I thought she was being her bitter self and then I find you acting like Nancy from The Craft.”
He choked and sputtered on his coffee. “I can’t unsee this now.”
A laugh burst from my lips. “Me neither, but why am I envisioning Michael with Nancy’s black wild curly hair?”
“Next time I see him, I’m telling him about this.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“How else are we going to convince him to dress up as Nancy for the Halloween party?”
“Then be prepared to be recruited. He’ll want the ensemble cast.”
He slumped into the seat. “Good point.” His lips hovered over his cup, and I imagined those lips hovering over me, preparing to completely rock my world. I bit my own lip and let myself get lost in the fantasy
He nodded toward my dashboard. “Your check engine light is on.”
The stupid light came on about two weeks ago, and I’d been happily ignoring it. It was better to live in denial than bring my car to the shop, only to find out I’d need to sell a hell of a lot more cakes to fix the damn thing.
“I know. It turns on and off.”
“Have you brought it in to be looked at?” he asked.
“Not yet.” I needed to get through the end of the month and then I would worry about it.
“You should.”
“I will.”
“You’re lying.”
My eyebrow rose. “So who’s your favorite character in The Craft? You know, in case Michael takes this idea and runs with it.”
“Don’t change the subject. You’re lying. Why?”
I hated the demand in his tone, but what I hated even more was the concern. The last thing I needed was for Nero to be concerned about something he didn’t need to bother himself with. It was my car, my responsibility, and when I had the funds, I would take care of it.
“I’m not lying,” I reiterated.
“You touched your ear.”
