treading on some mighty personal ground.”
She colored and got to her feet again. “You’re right. I’ll leave you to your tea.”
“Do you often run away from a challenge, Sophie?” If she wasn’t such an infuriating, difficult woman, he might like the way her name rolled off his tongue.
“Me? Run away?” She parked that fist on her hip again. Given how often she did that, it was a wonder she didn’t have a dent. “If I remember right, you were the one getting bristly at personal questions. Seems I’m not the one doing the running, Mr. Jones.”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “Oh, we’re back to that now, are we?”
“I do think its best, don’t you?” She gave him a smile that had no hint of flirtation in it and moved her chair back until it sat in perfect alignment with his. A clear signal she was done sitting with him. “Seeing as how we have a business relationship only.”
“Are you saying you want to keep it that way? Business only?” What was he doing? He had no time or desire for a relationship right now.
He wasn’t pursuing Sophie Watson, he told himself. He was trying to get back at her for her constant rants about his dogs and his show.
Sophie tucked her long blond hair behind her ears and leveled her emerald gaze on him. “I’m a smart woman, Mr. Jones, and I learned a long time ago that smart decisions are the ones that serve me—and my business—best. So the answer is yes. Business only.”
Good advice—advice he should take himself. Harlan drained the last of his tea, picked up the lone cookie remaining on his plate, then rose. “Then I’ll bid you good day, Miss Watson.”
“Good day, then. And kindly remember our agreement.” She picked up the tray, added his empty mug, then balanced it on her arm. She flashed him a smile that was anything but friendly. “Because if you ruin my reputation on the radio again, you might get more than you wanted in your tea.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Why, of course not, sir.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “Just a business arrangement. I’ll speak nicely of your chairs if you don’t speak of me at all.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow.” He wagged the cookie at her, not making any promises. “But I think I need to up my rent charge. For personal aggravation.”
He could hear her sputtering all the way into the coffee shop. An hour ago, he’d been ready to murder Sophie Watson for stealing his chairs and forcing him off his porch. But now, she’d given him a challenge he couldn’t refuse. That woman had a breaking point and Harlan Jones intended to find it.
Then he’d take his chairs and his bis-yummy and go back to his own little cave, and forget that sassy woman had ever marched on up his stairs and into his life.
CHAPTER THREE
HARLAN JONES had been coming to the coffee shop every single afternoon for a week, after he got off working at the radio station. Thankfully, Sophie had too many things keeping her busy to give him more than a passing glance. She made sure Lulu had his tea ready every day, but she avoided sitting with him again. He kept to himself, spending his time poring over stacks of documents. He seemed stressed, and she wanted to ask what was wrong. But didn’t.
She had no room in her life for a man right now, and especially not that man. The coffee shop consumed most of her time. If there was one lesson she’d learned from her broken engagement, it was that the business wouldn’t let her down. Not like a man could.
Despite her misgivings, she’d gone along with Mildred’s plan for the Love Lottery. They’d sold matches in the coffee shop and most of the downtown shops, with the big match event scheduled for this evening. Mildred had suggested they hold it at the coffee shop—what better place to hold a first date than a coffee shop, after all?—and Sophie had spent most of the day preparing extra baked goods and ensuring every inch of the café was spotless. She’d had to leave the Spring Fling committee meeting early so she could get ready for the drawing tonight. Hopefully, she hadn’t missed anything.
By four that afternoon, when Sophie returned from her last logistical meeting with Mildred and the rest of the committee, she half expected to find Harlan Jones’s rear end parked in one of the seats out front. But no, the man was nowhere to be found, and according to Lulu, hadn’t been in at all today. Maybe because it was Sunday or maybe he’d given up on that ridiculous notion of sitting in his own chairs and torturing her with his presence.
“Sure does seem quiet around here without him, doesn’t it?” Lulu said, coming up beside her.
“Without who?”
“That tall drink of whiskey you pretend to hate.”
“I do hate him. He annoys me.” She chalked up a new advertisement of specials for the day.
“Uh-huh. Sure he does. Him and that swagger of his would annoy any woman … straight into his bedroom.” Lulu winked, then wisely disappeared into the kitchen.
Sophie let out a gust of frustration. The conversation with Lulu had messed up her concentration and she’d misspelled coffee. Twice. She took a wet rag, cleaned off the board and started over. What was with Harlan Jones? Even when he wasn’t here, he could affect her day. She was going to have to find a way to get rid of him. Agreement or no agreement, she didn’t want to find him at the shop when she least expected it. Today she would insist he take money for the chairs and then there wouldn’t be any need to have him sitting out there, getting her all distracted.
Before Sophie knew it, the clock was ticking toward six and people were filling the coffee shop in anticipation of the big matchmaking unveiling. Even though she was glad to have the boost in business, Sophie hoped it went quickly. As soon as she left the shop for the night she wanted to get home to check on her grandmother.
Ever since Sophie’s parents had moved to northern Florida for her father’s job, Sophie had been Grandma’s chief caretaker, and in turn, they’d become close friends. The last few months had been hard on Grandma Watson. Some days, her recovery from her hip replacement went well. Other days, she had too much pain to enjoy her regular activities with her friends, or even to come by the coffee shop for a couple hours.
Recently, the insurance company had cut her physical therapy back to once a week, not nearly enough in Sophie’s non-medical opinion. If there was a local low-impact exercise class, one within walking distance of the house, then Grandma could speed up her recovery and strengthen her bones in the process. That was exactly the kind of thing a community wellness center could provide.
Mildred came rushing in, dressed for the occasion in a multicolored floral housedress so bright, Sophie was pretty sure it could glow in the dark. Mildred’s gray hair was in a wild cloud around her head and she was huffing from the exertion of hurrying. “Hello! Hello! Are we ready for the big announcements?”
Sophie glanced at the clock, then out over the filled shop. “I think so. I set up a microphone for you on the stage over there.” She gestured toward the back corner, where local bands often played on weekends.
“Oh, I’m not announcing,” Mildred said. “Why, I get as nervous as a hen in a kitty litter box when I have to speak in front of people.”
“A hen in a …”
