Neither was true, but that didn’t stop my employees from gossiping about it for weeks. Things have finally settled down in that regard. I don’t want a repeat, so I revert back to the alias I used for hook ups in college.
It’s unimaginative since it’s a name I pulled out of a hat. I literally pulled it out of a baseball cap when I was nineteen. The guy I was sharing a dorm room with scribbled a dozen first names and an equal number of surnames on scraps of paper. He dumped them into the cap, and we pulled out our fake names.
I ended up being Joe Campbell.
His alias was Bard Sanderson.
I still call him that whenever we connect over dinner or drinks.
“I’m Joe,” I say with the ease that comes with using the name on and off for years. “Joe Campbell.”
“Joe Campbell,” she says, repeating it as though she’s testing it on her tongue. “It’s nice to meet you, Joe.”
“You too, Summer.”
A curt nod of her head closes that part of our conversation. “You didn’t answer my question. Can I help you?”
The glass measuring cup in my right hand is a reminder of my bullshit excuse to see her again as soon as possible. I hold it up. “Can I borrow a cup of sugar?”
She glances at the cup before her gaze is right back on my face. “That’s used for measuring wet ingredients.”
I cock an eyebrow. “That matters?”
She nods slowly. “In my business, it does.”
“So you’re a baker?” I deduce.
She leaves that unanswered as she smiles again. “Follow me, Joe, and I’ll get you exactly what you need.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Greer
Why didthat sound so sexual?
I didn’t mean for it to, but it sure as hell came out as an invitation to come inside for a lot more than a cup of sugar. I don’t know if he had the same idea in mind as I did when I came up with a plan to ask him if I could borrow some sugar.
All I do know is he beat me to the punch, but I’m not about to complain about it.
The man following me into the kitchen is even more attractive than I thought he was when I first saw him in the pool. That’s saying a lot because I silently rated him a twenty out of ten as he stepped out of the water.
He’s way beyond a fifty now.
His blue eyes are piercing, and as soon as I opened the door, they were locked on me. His hair is thick, dark brown, and peppered with a few strands of gray that make him second-glance worthy.
If I were being completely honest, I’d do a triple-take if I passed him on a sidewalk or saw him in the grocery store.
Since I have no idea where anything is in this kitchen, I open and close numerous cupboard doors before I find a set of sleek silver measuring cups. I know enough about culinary science to understand the importance of using the correct tool for the job, so I grab the largest cup and head over to the pantry.
It takes all of twenty seconds for me to spot a ceramic canister marked sugar.
“I can help,” Joe says from the entrance to the kitchen.
I instantly conjure up a mental image of him standing directly behind me with his arms wrapped around mine as we scoop sugar out of the canister together.
That’s what not getting laid in months does to a woman.
I shake off the thought and his offer to help. “It’s okay. I can handle it.”
