I appreciated Amos for making it look like we had our shit together instead of having let a couple of days pass without communicating. I could’ve contacted Bo for Amos’s number, but…I hadn’t. Bo would’ve reached out soon if he hadn’t heard from either of us anyway.
“Great.” Bo sounded relieved. “The mayor really wants to highlight the town’s history with the bicentennial of Maplewood’s founding happening next year. She loved the idea of emphasizing the community-focused spirit of Maplewood’s history. It will be even better with the diners coming together to plan the menu.” Bo leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I’ll be honest, this is the first time this particular granting organization has given us money. If we do well, I might have a better shot with future grant applications.”
There were a dozen ways this could end in disaster, and not least of which was the risk of liking Amos even more.
“You said at the meeting you only needed us to plan a menu that hopefully includes throwback recipes, right?” Amos asked.
“Exactly. Once you get that set, I can reach out to some businesses about preparing the food. I’ll do the bulk of the work, I promise.”
I raised an eyebrow at Bo. “You need to learn how to delegate.”
Bo shrugged my words away. We’d had the conversation a dozen times before. He knew my opinion was that the Venn diagram of his work-life balance was a circle.
I glanced at Amos, half expecting him to be annoyed at me for snipping at his former best friend. He shook his head in defeat. Maybe they’d had similar conversations back in high school.
Bo’s phone buzzed, and he picked it up. “Crap! I’m late for a meeting.” He tossed back the rest of his coffee and gathered his things in a rush. I suspected that was his usual frenetic energy at work. “I’m sorry, Amos. I didn’t realize I’d double-booked. Text me and we’ll find a time to hang out. Maybe grab a beer this weekend?”
“Sounds great. See you.” Amos aimed his killer smile at Bo.
Bo pointed at me. “You owe me a darts rematch.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, yeah.”
He paused and made eye contact with me, then with Amos. “Seriously, thank you for letting me volunteer you guys for this.”
I squirmed in my seat. “Of course.” I wouldn’t let him down, even if it meant making a deal with the devil. A devil with angelic curls and blue eyes the color of a Mediterranean horizon.Don’t think about his hand on your dick. Don’t think about his hand on your dick.
“Absolutely. We won’t let you down.”
I watched Bo, my lifeline, wave at Caspian as he scurried out. My shoulders sagged in defeat as I turned back to Amos.
There was a peculiar look on his face as he glanced between me and Bo’s retreating form. Oh! Oh. God no. Bo and me? No way. No offense to him—he’d be a great catch for anyone—but we would drive each other up a wall. He was far too…particularfor me. My go-with-the-flow nature would make him want to murder me.
“I’m not interested in him,” I blurted, then immediately wanted to snatch the words back and shove them down my throat.
Amos bit his lip between his teeth as he failed to hide his smile. “I get it. Amazing guy, but he’s far too organized. He probably wears underwear labeled with the day of the week.”
“I tend to prefer guys who wear ones with lewd sayings and rainbow G-strings.”
Fire flashed in Amos’s eyes. “That’s quite a specific type.”
I held his stare for a moment as my pulse quickened, but I chickened out from taking it further. “It’s a curse. I bet Bo’s the type to schedule sex on his calendar app.”
Laughter spilled from Amos’s soft lips. I hated how badly I wanted to taste them again.
“Bo is a great guy, but not my type either.”
I could’ve sworn his gaze darted to my lips when I licked them.
“You guys never…?”
He began shaking his head before I trailed off.
“Love the guy, but not like that. I’ve seen him shit himself after eating five of those giant pixie sticks and chugging a bottle of Mountain Dew. After washing his clothes, he folded his underwear and asked if my parents had an iron. It would never work.”
A hearty laugh ripped from my chest. Amos’s lips parted as he watched me. I glanced around the coffee shop, suddenly feeling awkward and exposed and sure that everyone could read the dirty thoughts running through my mind.
“So, we’ve got a menu to plan,” Amos said.
