She smiled. "Lemme guess. Ex-boyfriend?"
With a nervous laugh, I replied, "Well, he's an exsomething."
As I spoke, I shook the extra nuts out of the bag and taped the bag shut before placing it onto the scale. The amount wasn't one pound exactly, but then again, it never was. Even so, I'd gotten the number pretty darn close – well, the second time, anyway.
I printed up the price tag and pressed it onto the bag. As I handed it over, I asked, "Can I get you anything else?"
With a rueful laugh, she replied, "Yeah, a date for my brother. I don't suppose you're interested?"
I didn't know who her brother was, but I knew all too well that brothers needing dates weren't likely to be keepers. Plus, she was probably joking.
With a friendly smile, I asked, "So you're playing matchmaker, huh?"
She looked heavenward. "Well,someone'sgot to." And then without any prompting from me, she confessed, "The truth is, he's kind of difficult."
My gaze slid to Cole Henster who had wandered back to the gift baskets.What was he doing here, anyway?Absently, I replied, "Really?"
"Oh, yeah," the woman said. "But on the inside, he's just a big ol' softie."
Well, that ruled out my old boss.
As everyone knew, Cole Henster was about as soft as rock candy.And just as delicious.
I froze. Where on Earth hadthatthought come from?Nowhere sane, that's for sure.Ilovedrock candy.Buthim, I loathed.
The woman leaned forward. "And he owns his own business, too."
Funny, so did Cole Henster.Again, my gaze slid in his direction.Good, Lord.What if shedidmean him?
My stomach fluttered for only an instant before something like sanity returned.I hated setups.And even if Iwerewilling to go along, which I totally wasn't, Cole Henster didn't likemeany more than I likedhim. With an awkward laugh, I said, "Thanks, but I'm pretty sure I'm not his type."
"Oh, don't worry about that," she said. "You're a lot cuter than hislastdate."
His lastdate?Not his last girlfriend?
I was still chewing onthatlittle Christmas nugget when she added, "And you know, he has a real thing for elves."
I blinked. "Sorry, what?"
"Your costume," she said.
During the holidays, we were encouraged to dress up for Christmas. I wasn't wearing thefullelf costume. But Iwaswearing the hat, along with the costume's upper portion – the part that might've been called a dress if only I hadn't paired it with jeans instead of leggings.
Without the leggings, the dress looked more like a glorified smock – not that it mattered.Cole Henster had hated it.
I recalled the scorn in his eyes as he'd accused me of playing dress-up when there was work to be done. I murmured, "My costume?"
"Oh, yeah," the woman said. "In that getup? He'd eat you up with a spoon."
A nervous laugh escaped my lips. "No. I'm pretty sure he'd stab me with a fork."
She drew back. "Excuse me?"
Dang it.
Had I truly said that out loud?
Judging from her expression, the answer was a firm yes.
