“Thay? Is that who you check your phone 982 times a day for?” he asked, shuffling to his other foot.
“Yep,” I admitted, wondering just how long it took to put a lemon bar onto a plate.
“Is he your boyfriend?”
Finn tossed a glance at Maggie and stepped closer.
“No,” I palmed the cell in my pocket, resisting the urge to run.
“Best Friend? Brother?”
My eyes shifted to the door and then back to Finn.
“No,” I said again. “I suppose he is… Well, he is kind of…” I knew what I wanted to say, but the lie was too thick and brawny to force from my chest, “… basically, my architect,” I mouthed,lunging for the lemon bar that came sliding across the counter on a plate full of daisies.
Finn was unsure what to do with that response, but I did not care, nor did I feel like explaining it to him.
“I will wait for you outside. It’s hot in here,” I lied, pushing into the Maine breeze when… “Shit!” The lemon bar hit the ground with a soft thud, and my eyes squeezed shut on instinct.
Ten years ago, I would have eaten it off the pavement, but instead, I bent low to pick it up, barely noting the person who rushed past me to get inside.
I eyed it for a while, sitting dumb and yellow under the first morning sun, before a voice shook me from above.
“Here,” the distraction smiled, offering me the fresh lemon bar in his palm.
“Thank you,” I murmured, shuffling to my feet. “But you did not have to do that.”
“I know,” he said, his dark irises following the lines of my curves before nudging me to accept the pastry. “But I did. Also, this thing is like twenty bucks, so please take it.”
I let out a sigh and reached, this time holding on tighter.
“Twenty dollars?” I joked. “Were the lemons also imported from Upstate New York?” I laughed, taking a bite to show my gratitude. I expected the tang of lemon and the dry wash of buttery crust, but the entire thing sat sideways in my mouth.
“Try her backyard,” he lifted his lip, tilting his head into the sun. He was tall, dark, and my favorite kind of wrong. “How do you know Finn?”
“I work with him.”
“No shit?” he smirked, inspecting me closer. “I did not take you for a baby whisperer!”
“Oh?” I took another bite, allowing the sugar to coat my insides.
“Nope,” he flashed a smile. “I thought you were much cooler than that.”
A giggle arose in my throat, appreciating the jest. I wonder what Xaden would think if I asked him to aim it a little lower next time.
“I am sorry to disappoint,” I offered him a piece of the lemon bar that was nearly gone.
“You could make it up to me,” he pinched off the corner of the crust and plopped it into his mouth, making a face.
“Oh, yeah?” I arched a brow, not fully understanding why this busboy was causing me to blush. “How?”
“Let’s go,” Finn said, placing a hand along my arm in a tug.
“I’ll think about it,” Xaden leaned in with a wink, fixing his eyes on mine. “How’s it going, Finn? Still banging half the women in town?”
“Alright,” Finn groaned, glaring at the distraction with a clear warning. “Come on.”
“Be careful, Baby Whisperer.” Xaden rolled onto his heels. “In Maine, the most fucked-up things come in the shiniest packages.”