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“I really don’t like to make a fuss,” she told him as the elevator doors opened.
“You’re not. I am.”
That didn’t make her feel better. Actually, she felt worse.
He hit the button for the ground floor. She sucked in a breath.
“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you breathing?” he asked.
“Oh. Shoot.” She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath. “I don’t like elevators.”
Instead of telling her that she was ridiculous, he did something unbearably sweet.
And so, so bad.
Bad, because she would never be able to forget.
He reached out and drew her close, holding onto her as they descended.
“You take the elevator every day,” he murmured.
“I’m getting better.”
“Little Blossom, I’d hate to see what you were like when you were worse than this.”
She huffed out a laugh. “Really, I am. I’m just nervous about upsetting Lou.”
“Do you like mustard?”
“No.”
The elevator stopped and he let her go. She had to stop herself from latching onto him.
“Did you ask for no mustard?”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s what you’re going to get.”
He led the way into the café. Lou’s eyes widened, then narrowed. Faith couldn’t figure out the look on her face, though.
“Faith! Something wrong with the sandwich?”
“Oh, it’s really nice?—”
“Faith asked for no mustard and this has mustard in it.” Reuben handed the sandwich over.
Lou stared at him with wide eyes. “Oh, right. Sure! I’ll remake it.”
“If you don’t mind,” Faith said quickly. “I’m so sorry. Thank you!”
Lou hurried off and Faith frowned at Reuben. “You could have said please.”
“Why were you apologizing? She made your sandwich wrong.”
“It was just a mistake. I make them all the time.”
Was that . . . did his lips just twitch?
