Page 58

No joke.In fact, I'd beensodistracted I'd nearly blurted out my name.

And here was the craziest thing of all.I was kind of wishing I had.

The guy was clever, hot, and funny – a deadly combo if I'd ever seen it. And he'd invited me to watch a movie – not justanymovie, but one of my favorites.

But…he couldn't be serious.

Or should I say…surelyhe couldn't be serious?Smartass.

Skip gave a loud sigh. "It's nothing to smile about."

Damn it. Iwassmiling. With a mental kick, I wiped the smile from my face. "Sorry."

"For what?" Skip demanded. "Being late or smiling about it?"

"Does it really matter?" I tried to look contrite. "Maybe I'mdoublesorry…like for both, I mean."

Hearing myself, I couldn't help but cringe.Where was my dignity?

Probably, I'd left it in Chicago, along with an apartment that might now be empty for all I knew. I'd called the property management company at least five times, but had yet to reach an actual person who could help.

I meant that literally. As far as I could tell, no live humans ever manned the phones. So I'd left several voicemails promising I'd pay if only they'd give me a few days to square away the credit card.

I hadn't received a single call back, which meant…what, exactly?

My thoughts were still churning when Skip said, "You should betriplesorry."

I blinked in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"Because you were late yesterday, too."

Obviously he meant from lunch. But this, too, was because of Ryder, who'd been standing – aka notcrouching– in the middle of the road. The guy reallywasshameless.

Skip let out a groan. "And you're doing itagain!"

Shit.

Smiling. That's what he meant.

But in my own defense, I was finding it pretty hardnotto. But then, my smile disappeared for good when I suddenly realized something. "Wait a minute…if you're back here, who's manning the front?"

Someonehad to be manning it, because for one thing, I didn't hear any yelling.

Skip gave a breezy wave of the spatula. "Don't worry, it's covered."

"By who?" I perked up. "Did you hire someone?"

His feet shifted on the stool. "Notexactly."

I glanced toward the connecting door. "What doesthatmean?"

"She just sort of…you know, started helping herself."

"You mean…to coffee?"

"And a scone, too," he said. "And then, she served the guy behind her – and then, a couple of complainers after that, so I figured, 'Why not let her run with it?'"

I stared up at him.What an asshat.