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Fuck me.
Maybe I did need to meet this girl.
CHAPTER 7
Selena
I was out of my mind. Completely. Entirely.
Without question.
Yes, we’d texted on and off for hours, our conversation bordering on filthy but to tell him where I’d be today? I was freaking out of my mind.
Sure, Willow had supposedly vetted him but that didn’t mean much since she was technically getting back at me for the horrendous date.
I glanced at my watch, both anxious and excited at the same time.
The Lone Ranger had been suave enough to convince me that we’d meet in public and that should be much easier. If only I hadn’t sent him a sexy picture. Okay, so it was only of my leg but still. The illusion was that I didn’t have any clothes on. Ugh. I was so out of my element.
“Can I have four of the frosted chocolate ones?”
Broken from my spell, I immediately plastered on a commercialized smile. “Of course you can.” As I prepared a box, dashing hot purple in color, I allowed my thoughts to drift to the pic he’d sent me in return. A chest picture. And hubba, hubba, I’d needed to cool off in front of my fan for fifteen full minutes. Talk about six-pack abs. He had a full twelve-pack and then some.
However, that didn’t mean his face matched his stunning physique. No siree. I’d been burned like that before when I’d used an online dating service. I’d thought for certain I’d met my Prince Charming, but he’d turned out to be a frog complete with warts. Oh, I was such an idiot.
At least there were only thirty minutes to go of the festival and I could dash away with my head between my legs like a scaredy cat.
“Here you go. That will be twelve dollars.”
“For four cupcakes?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I wanted to point out the big purple sign on the table but refrained from doing that or anything worse.
She huffed and puffed, which almost made me recommend she didn’t need any cupcakes in the first place, but I was a good girl.
“Take that. Highway robbery,” she snarked before snatching the box from my hand after tossing down the money, mostly in change.
As the pennies and quarters started rolling off the table onto the concrete surface, I almost called her a dozen not so nice names.
Instead, I called out, “Have a lovely afternoon.”
I’d need more than a single glass of wine after this fiasco. I’d made ten dozen cupcakes and had sold only four dozen. What was I supposed to do with that many leftover goodies? I had to head to the other side of the table to squat down and collect my hard-earned money.
When suddenly a hand was right there, a very masculine hand helping pick up the nickels and dimes, I sucked in my breath. And the moment I lifted my head, I was staring into the bluest eyes I’d ever seen in my life. They were unearthly, like a perfect, blue-skied sunny day or the intense, deep blue underneath the tropical waters of the Caribbean. Or a perfectly ripe blueberry.
Whew.
“That’s the kind of customers you’re forced to deal with?” he asked, his voice so deep and husky I was thrown completely.
By that point, I was certain a tiny bit of spittle had dripped from my lips.
Get it together, girl. He’s just some corporate dude pretending to be a regular guy.
Yet he was dressed in the most festive Hawaiian shirt I’d ever seen, the colors of purple, tangerine, and aquamarine highlighting his eyes.
And his lightly stubbled chiseled jaw.
And the thick cords in his long neck.
