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“No, not really. This is…new.”
Birdie laughed softly and bumped her shoulder against mine. I caught a deep breath of her honeysuckle scent and my heart thundered against my ribs.
“Relax. I don’t expect you to propose any time soon, if that makes you feel any better.”
As if this nonsense wasn’t awkward enough.
“Please don’t pay my daughter any attention. I’ll have a talk with her.”
We’d reached Birdie’s truck by now. She deposited her iPad on the front seat. What little remained of our coffee and the bag of pastries had been left in the kitchen after a tour of the house.
“I don’t get embarrassed that easily, Mr. McCall,” Birdie replied. “Don’t worry about it. I like Avery. And she obviously cares about you very much if she wants to see you happy.”
Retrieving a business card and a pen from the pocket of her skirt, she scribbled something down quickly. Then she stepped closer until only a few inches separated us. The shadow of my hat brim fell across her face, shielding her eyes as she gazed up at me.
Birdie pressed her lips to the card until a blush-pink lipstick stain remained. My throat worked as I watched her open my coat and slide the card into the breast pocket of my shirt.
“That’s my personal number.” She patted my chest, resting her palm there for a moment or two longer than necessary. Gentle and faintly warm. “You would never call about flowers, I know that. But you’re welcome to call me about…other things. If you want to.”
Before I could think of something to say, she turned back to her truck and climbed in. With a wave, she headed down my driveway. Long after she was gone, I stood there, rooted to the spot and rubbing my chest where the phantom heat of her touch still burned.
The crunch of footsteps on gravel signaled Avery’s approach. I hastily stopped rubbing my chest in case she noticed that too and used it against me.
“So,” she said, slotting her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “What did you think of the florist?”
“Busy. Like a bee.”
And cute.
I kept that part to myself.
A grin spread across Avery’s face.
“You like her.”
“What did I tell you about meddling?”
She shrugged. “If I don’t give you a friendly nudge now and then, you won’t do a damn thing about fixing your dating situation. Or lack of it.”
“I don’t need your nudges.”
“You should ask her out,” Avery replied, relentless as ever.
I didn’t mention Birdie’s business card resting safely in my pocket. I could have sworn her faint perfume still clung to my clothes where she’d touched me.
“Don’t you have homework to do?”
“That can wait,” Avery said. “Besides, we need to get catering squared away for the festival. I was thinking we could talk about it over lunch.”
“As long as you don’t try to set me up with anyone else,” I said sternly.
Avery hummed, looking smug as she trotted past me toward the house.
“Why would I do that? You’re going to ask Birdie out, remember?”
“I never said—”
I broke off when she turned away, laughing. My protest fell on deaf ears. As Avery disappeared inside, I lagged behind. When I was finally alone, I retrieved Birdie’s card from my pocket and studied the looping numbers in dark ink. I traced my thumb over the lipstick kiss—a breezy, delicate shade of pink.
