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A satisfying feeling spread throughout his chest when she didn’t move away from him. Her floral scent was now masked by the sweet smells of the baked goods.
But he’d memorized the perfume.
He wanted to know what it was so he could potentially buy stock in it.
“Alana!” a voice called out.
“Hey, Peggy!” Alana waved excitedly as they walked up to the counter.
“And who is this with you?” the older woman inquired, arching her brow at Alana.
A shyness came over Alana. It must have been his ancient caveman ancestors that made him want to pound on his chest with the knowledge that she didn’t bring other men to the shop.
Laughing nervously, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Peggy, this is my neighbor, London. London, this is Peggy, the woman who owns this marvelous shop. One taste of her danishes and you’ll be hooked.”
“How are you?”
He held back a chuckle as the woman blushed.
“I’m doing well. What can I get ya’ll?”
“How about you order for me?” he asked, turning to Alana. Her eyes grew wide behind her glasses.
“Really?”
“Surprise me.”
She ordered two coffees. To him, it sounded like she was speaking in a foreign language. His usual order was just black, but he wanted to see what type of drink and food she would pick out for them.
“Your total is twenty-one dollars even,” Peggy announced.
“I got this—”
“Not gonna happen,” he said, pulling out his wallet after gently pushing her away from the counter.
“Hey,” she scoffed, trying to push him to the side, but he stood firm.
“Nope. My treat.”
He handed Peggy his credit card as she laughed at Alana’s antics of trying to get around him.
Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her to his side.
“You don’t have to pay for me,” she breathed, staring up at him.
It didn’t get past him that she hadn’t moved from his side. He slid his arm up her back and rested it along her shoulders.
“I want to. Plus, you cooked dinner last night.” He turned to find Peggy with a shit-eating grin on her face. “I can pick up the tab for breakfast this morning.”
“Sign here, son.” She turned her attention to Alana. “You cooked him dinner, huh?”
“I was repaying him for his help,” Alana advised through a long, exaggerated sigh.
“She cooked lasagna,” he bragged. Peggy’s eyebrows shot up even farther. “It was the best fucking lasagna I’ve had in years.”
“I was already making it, and I offered him some for helping me out,” Alana explained.
“Let’s see here if I can sign with my left hand,” he muttered, not planning to release Alana to do it.
