Page 14 of Sycamore Circle

An Amish boy with light brown hair, a dark tan, and really blue eyes stared at her. After the slightest hesitation, he dropped his hands. “Sorry,” he murmured. “We were about to run into each other.”

“No... ah, it’s okay. You’re right. Um, I’m sorry. I should’ve watched where I was going.”

He looked like he was going to say something else, then seemed to think the better of it. He turned and headed to the back.

“You need a table, hon?” Mary asked.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Not a problem. Go take one of those booths over there.” Just as Chloe was about to grab the first one, Mary added, “That boy you almost ran down is my nephew Finn. He’s only been here two weeks but he’s a good kid. It just might take him a moment to acclimate.”

After looking to make sure he wasn’t in earshot, Chloe asked, “You have an Amish nephew? He is Amish, right?”

Mary chuckled. “Oh, he’s Amish all right. And yes, I do.”

“How old is he?”

“Seventeen.” Mary winked. “He’s kin, but I’ve always thought he was easy on the eyes. Don’t you agree?”

Chloe nodded. The truth was, she found Mary’s nephew a whole lot more than “easy on the eyes.” He was pretty much in the “gorgeous” category. Just under six feet, his shoulders and arms and chest were already filled out, and he had a flawless jawline under a fine layer of scruff. Baylee would have called him hot.

Mary made a shooing motion with her hands. “You go take a seat. And hon, try not to give Finn too hard of a time. I promise, he’s trying real hard.”

“I’ll do my best,” she teased. She was curious about why an Amish boy had decided to work at Lane’s, but figured it wasn’t any of her business.

Taking a seat in the booth, she scanned the menu.

Finn walked over right away. “Do ya know what you’d like?”

Chloe put down the menu and looked up at him. “I’ll take a vanilla malt, please.”

He wrote it down. “What else?”

“That’s it.”

“You came in here for just a malt?” He frowned.

“Yep.” When he was still standing there, like he was trying to get his head around it, she cleared her throat. “Is that a problem?”

“Nee. I mean, no. I’ll go get it.”

“Thanks.”

“It ain’t a problem,” he muttered. When he walked away, it looked like he was thinking about something hard.

He really was awkward. She kind of loved that.

Her phone dinged, signaling an incoming text.

Where are you?

It was her mother. She texted back.

At Lane’s.

Did you get a ride?

Nope. I walked. I’m getting a malt and doing homework.

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