Page 34 of Beachside Kisses With My Enemy

Does it matter what’s going on with her? I chide myself.

No, it doesn’t. We aren’t here to be friends. We are here to figure out an awesome dessert to serve the whole town at the festival picnic.

Lucy straightens and turns, leaning back against the counter beside me. Not too close, but the fact she isn’t insisting on being fully across the room from me is progress. “Now that we’re all here, we can continue the discussion we began on Thursday.” She taps the notebook with the end of her pen. “After our last meeting, I asked Chloe if the food budget could be revised at all to give us more flexibility and scale up the amount of offerings we serve, but it seems the funds were a bit on the paltry side this year. So, our only choices are to either do a potluck-style barbecue for the whole town—something Chloe isn’t super keen on because we usually get a lot of tourists in, and they won’t be contributing—or we serve up something like burgers we can easily mass produce.”

One of the fluorescent lights flickers over the large granite island.

Thomas scratches his neck, just above the collar of his lime-green Hawaiian shirt. “I’m all for the latter option.”

“Same.” I cock my head before trying once again for the easiest option of them all. “But are we sure that we can’t cater the food ourselves with our various businesses? Seems it would be a good opportunity to help out the Hallmark Beach economy. And we could still provide the dessert for free.”

“I’ve already told you,” Lucy says. “Tiny is going to be out of town that week, and the Robin’s backup cook wouldn’t be able to handle it.” Then she purses her lips in my direction. “And don’t bother suggesting again that your truck bear all the load either. We will all be needed to pitch in on the burgers.”

“Wasn’t going to say a thing.” Mostly because of the truce. But also because, while I do think the festival would be an amazing chance to gain some valuable feedback—events with large and varied crowds like that always are—I don’t want to emphasize the “feud” between my food truck and the Robin now that I know how much she’s struggling there.

She squints at me. “You weren’t?”

I want to laugh at how suspicious she looks, as if I’ve told a joke and she’s waiting for the punchline. Or maybe wondering if there is a punchline in the first place. I nudge her sneaker-clad foot with the tip of my loafer. “No, Sunshine, I wasn’t.”

Lucy stiffens and licks her lips like she’s nervous. But why would she be? Maybe all of her energy is being funneled into not biting my head off, and I’m poking the bear. I pull my foot back to myself and determine to behave.

But I have to admit—I like touching her, even if it’s fabric on fabric. What would it be like to really touch her? Would that skin be as silky as it looks? Would her hair, which is back in its usual ponytail, be thick as spun gold, or would it fall easily between my fingers as I?—

Yikes. These thoughts are dangerous. And can’t lead anywhere.

“Blake? What do you think?” Thomas spears me with a look and rubs his hands together.

Shoot. “About what?”

“A bake-off.” Thomas laughs and walks over, slapping me on the shoulder. Kind of hard. Maybe he’s fighting back. Though if he wants Lucy, he can have her. Seriously. They’re two peas in a pod, at least as far as their love of Hallmark Beach goes. Dude’s on the town council and he owns a business…one that’s not going to pick up and drive away.

So even if I did want Lucy for real—which I don’t—then Thomas would still be the better guy for her.

Focus, man. “A bake-off? For what?”

Lucy’s squinting at me again. “To figure out what dessert we want to serve.” She pauses, eyebrows lifted. “Haven’t you been listening?”

She’s speaking, and I’m mesmerized—not by the words coming out of her mouth, but by her mouth itself.

That saucy little mouth that’s tipped up at the corner, the one no doubt trying hard not to launch into a diatribe about how annoying she finds my lack of attention. That mouth that, she promised, will never again taste my food.

Which gives me a really wicked idea. And I know I shouldn’t test the boundaries of our truce like this, but something inside prods me along. “A bake-off sounds like a great idea.”

“It does?” She’s surprised. Maybe she thought I’d say no.

“Yep. Thomas and I will both bake a dessert, and you will be the judge. Winner gets their dessert featured at the festival.” I flash her a grin.

Her returning smile is weak, and her eyes flick to Thomas, who is nodding along with my suggestion. “Oh, but I thought I’d try to come up with something too.” Her voice is weak.

“But then how will we decide which one is best? No, we need a judge, and you’re the perfect candidate.”

Lucy’s eyes narrow at me, but I blink back innocently at her. She turns her body slightly toward mine and leans in, lowering her voice. “I know what you’re doing.”

“And what’s that, Sunshine?”

“Stop calling me that.” She grits her teeth.

“Why would I do that, when it makes you smile so pretty?” I close the gap between us and take a sharp inhale of her orange-vanilla scent. Her nearness is so heady that my vision blurs around the edges, and I have the sudden urge to pull her into my arms.

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