through the big street windows, Elle saw several cars, pedestrians and bikes passing by, but no sign of the man in the leather jacket. With a sigh, she wondered if she would ever see him again, or if her mom had scared him away.
Amber Carson, a college business major who, along with several other part-timers, worked at The Perkery to supplement her scholarships, stepped out of the kitchen, smoothing the sunny yellow apron around her waist. Amber’s hair was dyed a dramatic black with a bright blue streak hanging over her left eye. She had several piercings, and she favored stark black clothing and nails painted black except for her thumbs, which matched the blue hair stripe. Above all, she was smart, personable and a hard worker.
“Would you keep an eye on Charlotte for a few minutes?” Elle asked her. “I’d like to check things in the kitchen.”
“Of course.”
Amber smiled fondly at Charlotte, who grinned back and cooed, “Bamber!”
Leaving everything in Amber’s capable hands, Elle pushed through the door into the kitchen, where her mother was just sliding the first premade salads into the industrial fridge in preparation for the lunch rush. Three varieties of soup were almost ready to serve, their aromas blending into a medley that made Elle’s mouth water. Sandwiches would be assembled from prepped ingredients stored in the fridge, while cookies, pastries and other treats tempted diners from the display cases out in the shop.
Goodness, she loved this place, Elle thought with a little pang. Now if only she could be confident her business partner still felt the same way...
Closing the refrigerator door, her mom turned to ask her, “Is that nice-looking fellow still hanging around?”
“If you mean that poor man you grabbed out there, then no, he’s gone. I think you scared him away.”
“I did not grab him,” her mom retorted indignantly. “I simply shook his hand. He happened to have a very strong aura.”
Elle could secretly agree—if, by aura, her mother meant a very attractive appearance. It didn’t take any special talents to have noticed that.
“Well, anyway, maybe it would be best if you don’t ambush our customers with psychic readings. Not everyone likes that sort of thing, you know.” Remembering the way Shane had frowned in response to a vague allusion to his “deepest secrets,” Elle winced before murmuring, “I doubt he’ll be back.”
“He’ll be back.” Her mom lifted the lid off the chili and stirred briskly with a wooden spoon, her bracelets jingling merrily. “I think you’ll be seeing quite a bit of that nice young man. I told you big changes were coming for you.”
“Oh, my gosh, Mom, give it a rest,” Elle said with a groan. As much as she adored her mother, it was sometimes difficult to be patient—not her strength, anyway, she had to admit. “He was just a customer. Speaking of which, I’ve heard the bell ring a couple times, so the lunch crowd is starting to come in.”
Crowd was perhaps a generous word for their average patronage this time of year, but still they’d be busy for the next couple of hours. Too busy to obsess about good-looking guys in black leather jackets, she thought with a sigh. Which didn’t mean she wouldn’t think of him a few times as the day wound down.
She almost wished her mother’s prediction would be right this time. She wouldn’t mind seeing Shane Scanlon in her shop again.
* * *
THE MAN IN question returned to the shop the next morning, just at the end of the breakfast rush. He wore his black leather jacket again, this time with a black shirt and gray pants. Though an early rain and a brisk breeze had left a chill in the air, most of Elle’s customers had seemed comfortable enough in long sleeves or light windbreakers. Someone must have told Shane how very good the jacket looked on him, she decided as she stepped forward to greet him.
“Good morning,” she said. “Welcome back. What can I get for you?”
“I thought I might score one of those chocolate-filled doughnuts today. I figured they must be good, as fast as you ran out yesterday.”
She motioned toward the display case. “We just happen to have two chocolate-filled doughnuts available.”
Shane glanced at the other end of the counter, where her mother was taking care of the only other customers, and then at the play corral, in which Charlotte played contentedly with her toys. Leaning an arm on the stainless steel counter, he asked, “Any chance you’d like to have that second doughnut and a cup of coffee with me? Unless you can’t take the time.”
The invitation surprised her a bit. If this was his way of flirting, he was rather serious about it. He’d given her a graceful out, and his expression made it clear he would take the hint. She wasn’t in the habit of socializing much with customers, despite the occasional pickup attempt by randy tourists or bored businessmen looking for a night’s entertainment. But this was as good a time as any for her to take a coffee break, and Shane did seem interesting, if only for a brief, likely enjoyable conversation.
“I’ll skip the doughnut, but coffee sounds good.”
He gave her a little smile, teasing out those oh-so-sexy dimples. “Great.”
Silently clearing her throat, she motioned her intentions toward her mother, who sent her an approving, not-at-all-subtle thumbs-up.
They carried their cups to the table in the window he’d chosen yesterday. Elle took a sip of her pumpkin-spice latte while Shane bit into the flaky pastry filled with a creamy chocolate ganache. “That is good,” he said after swallowing. “No wonder they go so fast. You made the filling, too?”
His compliment pleased her perhaps more than it should have. “Yes. It’s a fairly simple recipe, easy to whip up and pipe into the doughnuts.”
He chuckled. “You make it sound too easy. You should say you slaved over it for hours.”
Amused, she lifted her cup again. “Maybe I should. I do start very early every morning.”
“Do you do all the cooking yourself?”
“Not all of it. My mother and several part-time employees help. My staff and I work Wednesdays through Saturdays and my business partner and her crew take over Sunday morning through Tuesday. We switch off as needed. It’s a good division of labor for all of us.”
“You’re only open for breakfast and lunch, right?”
“We close at four,” she confirmed, though the shop’s hours were posted on the sign at the door.
He nodded and glanced at the play corral. “And you bring your daughter to work with you every day?”
“Most days. Having my mom working with me here makes it easier to juggle everything.”
Setting down his cup, he picked up the doughnut again. She saw his gaze sweep her left hand as it lay on the table, and she figured he noted the lack of rings—just as she was aware of his bare left hand. Not necessarily proof that he was single, of course.
“Family first,” he murmured before biting into his pastry.
“Always,” she agreed.
She
