Page 17 of Love, Lies and Mistletoe
“What brought you north?”
“School. University of Wisconsin.”
Kyle grinned. “Go, Badgers.”
“Are you an alum too?”
“No, I’m a Hawkeye.”
Layla pretend gritted her teeth. “Sorry.”
“I was going to say the same too.”
Their laughter was interrupted by Naomi coming back to take their order. Her usual choice was the chicken salad, but Layla felt adventurous. She’d try something new in honor of Marybelle finally picking a winner of a date for her. The BLT with avocado spread sounded good.
She watched Kyle while he ordered. He was gracious and charming and had an ease about him that reminded her of the two sisters from Martha’s Vineyard she hung out with in college at a summer youth camp in the Rockies. She couldn’t even remember their names at the moment, but they were privileged in an oblivious, carefree way. Kyle had laugh lines around his eyes, very expressive eyebrows, and one dimple in his left cheek that held her attention as he spoke to Naomi. When he turned back to her, Layla dropped her gaze, swirling a spoon in her lemonade instead.
He told her he was an audiologist in Red Wing, but looked in on his aunt weekly since his uncle passed away two years ago. Layla was surprised she’d never met him before today. Forty-two and divorced, Kyle said he didn’t date much because, frankly, he was a bit selfish with his time. “I like my alone time a little too much.” Layla could relate.
They spent more than an hour eating, talking, laughing. Yes, Kyle Brenneman was a breath of fresh air after the stale parade of lunch dates she’d tolerated the last few years. When Naomi had cleared away the last of their dishes and set the bill next to Kyle, Layla let out a soft gasp.
“She actually listened to me.”
Kyle dug out his wallet. “What did I miss?”
“Your aunt. She listened.” Layla reached for the bill, but Kyle swept it off the table just in time. “I can pay for my share at least.”
“I insist,” he said. Naomi swooped in and claimed his credit card before Layla could protest again. He gave Layla a toothy grin. “You can treat the next time.”
She smiled back, feeling like his leading lady in that toothpaste commercial.
“It’s a deal.”
Chapter Nine
Layla put down her phone while she penciled in a rush appointment at the end of next week. If the dear woman—an old family friend who paid her a ridiculous amount—didn’t talk her ear off while Layla decorated the house, she could get out of there in half the time she allotted for the job.
Behind her, the door chimes rang.
“Good morning. I’ll be right with you.”
She closed the calendar and turned. A little gasp escaped her.
“Didn’t mean to startle you.” Brant’s tone was low and lazy, as if he knew he was having an effect on her. He rested his forearms on her counter a few feet away. His grin was equal parts smarmy and irresistible. She found herself smiling back before she realized it.
“You didn’t. I wasn’t.”Hertone wasn’t very convincing. She cleared her throat again. “What are you doing here?”
He patted the big plastic tub on the counter beside him. The telltale stems and ribbon showing through the plastic were dead giveaways. Her missing supplies.
“You forgot this at the inn. Darcy said you were in a big hurry to leave.”
She lifted the box from the counter to set on the floor by her feet. “Thank you for bringing it. You didn’t have to come all this way. I could have met you somewhere.” She smoothed her sweater. It was suddenly warmer in the store than usual. She fanned herself with a sales flyer from her mail pile until it dawned on her how he might interpret that. That his mere presence gave her hot flashes was something that would definitely please him.
Brant looked around. “It was no trouble. I wanted to check out your store anyway.”
“You did?”
He turned his attention back to her. “Sure. Why not?”
