“Ah, thank you. That was very thoughtful . . . of you.” I made sure to target my smile to Tessa, who still looked a little dumbstruck. “I have to go. I’m almost late for work!” A frown was back on his face. “I really am sorry about your shirt. Thanks for being so nice about it . . . and . . . thanks again, you know . . . for yesterday . . . ?” My voice faltered as his gaze sharpened again, piercing me in his search for—for what? What was his deal?
With absolutely no idea what to say next, I headed for the door. Just as I touched the handle, I felt the heat of his body behind me, and he reached around to pull the door open for me. My cheek was inches from his chest, and I felt as if the sun had broken through the clouds to warm me, only me, no one else in the world.
“Th-thank you, sir.” I stumbled over my stock reply, shocked beyond measure that this man would open the door for me—or for anyone. What else had I misread?
Deeply flustered, I hurried down the street, jostling through the morning crowd in a daze. At the corner, I forced myself to look both ways, twice, just to resist the urge to look back. His behavior—and my hormones—had made me erratic. I struggled to clear my mind and settled into a rhythmic stride. I might not be a giant like Mr. Olympian, but my legs were long enough to eat up the sidewalk when I was in a hurry.
Damn. Maureen’s convertible was parked in the loading zone in front of the shop. That wasn’t a good sign. Although I wasn’t late yet, she was never-ever this early. I hurried through the shop door, the chimes rattling too harshly to make music.
Perspective
“Where have you been?!” Maureen’s impatience was at least one octave too high.
“I spilled my coffee on someone.” My own tone was defensive. After all, I was here no later than eight-thirty every weekday and . . .
“Oh.” Dismissing a stranger’s ruined morning, she switched into the hyper-Maureen mode that made me wish I’d had time to caffeinate. “I’ve been here since eight because I’m having a party Friday night and you’re coming!”
“What?” Not at all the direction I’d thought we were going in.
“Promise me!” she commanded. “Promise now. That you’re coming on Friday.”
Like that wasn’t suspicious. I crammed my purse into its cubby and gulped a swig of latte. Clearly she was up to something, and clearly, I would consider it unpleasant once I knew her plan.
“And don’t try to use Eileen as an excuse! She’ll be at that hug-fest-lock-down thing.” She shook a piece of paper at me, and I recognized the school calendar that was usually stashed in the cubby. She’d come in early to prepare her argument!
“Hey, now, it’s not like that,” I stalled. “It’s really great. The eighth graders all bunk down in the gym, and the teachers lead them through team-building exercises, and—”
“I don’t care! You don’t have to play mom, and you’re coming to my party. Now promise.”
“Geez, Maureen. Pushy much?” I hoped to tease her into backing off, but the look on her face told me the usual ploys weren’t going to work this morning. “Why are you having a party? And why do you even want me there? You know I’m not social.”
“You are social! You’re more than happy to chat with customers, and . . . ” she evaluated my one raised eyebrow, and hurried on. “Okay, so you aren’t good with more than a couple of people at a time, I totally get that. But it’s not that kind of party. It’s just a few people!”
“Like who?”
“Just a few of our friends. You’ve met Adam now. He and his wife, Cara, will be there.”
I sighed before I could stop myself. “All couples, then?”
“No. I mean, well, mostly, but that’s just because Phil and I are friends with the same . . . Look. You have to come. Just suck it up and promise.”
“You’re trying to set me up with somebody again.”
“I thought we’d established that you get in your own way and I should handle this from now on.” She ventured a superior smile, and I rolled my eyes.
“Yeah, thanks by the way. Really nice of you to talk about me in front of Phil and his friend.”
“Oh, whatever. Phil’s known you longer than me, and Adam . . . well you really missed the boat with him. He’s perfect for you.”
“That’s just disturbing. He’s married and expecting a child! Your generation is warped. How would you feel if someone said that about Phil?”
“Stop trying to pick a fight, Lila.”
Oh, my God. She was exactly like a kid sister. “Isn’t it time to open? Or are you becoming a full-time matchmaker now?”
“Fine. You don’t have to promise me. I’ll get Phil to call you.”
What the hell? We both knew that with one phone call Phil could tease me into going, so that wasn’t even fair. Why was she trying so hard all of a sudden?
Maybe she just wants to see you happy, Lila.
I am happy. Now shut up and let me think.
“Okay. You win. It’s . . . sweet. Misguided and annoying, but sweet.” I mustered enough grace to walk over to the door and flip the open sign around. I’d just have to fake being normal for a couple of hours and then have a headache or something.
“Come see the outfits I picked for you!”
I whirled around, “You’ve picked out clothes for me? What am I, seven?”
“Oh, stop being such a P.I.T.A.. I bought them for you at the Atlanta show, but I knew you’d say you had nowhere to wear them. Now you do!”
I kept my mouth shut as I followed her into
