Page 3 of Too Delicious

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Oh. Right. Feedback,” I say. Finally recovering my brain cells, I answer, “This is the best tasting ice cream I’ve ever had.”

Her shoulders sag. “It’s frozen yogurt, not ice cream.”

“What is this flavor? It’s like sugar and custard…like a Boston creme but better!”

The woman explains. “It’s golden rum-infused vanilla frozen yogurt, topped with creme brûlée donut pieces.”

“It’s fucking fantastic is what it is.”

People tend to beam at me with a sense of pride when I give them a compliment.

This one squints at me suspiciously.

“Sorry for cussing?” I say, inflecting it as a question because this woman has me questioning my entire existence with that stare.

Can I skip this mess and simply follow her home like a stray dog? Please?

“I don’t care about the cussing,” she says. “You’re very…enthusiastic.”

Summer pipes up, “She can’t handle compliments!”

“Zip it, you,” my dream girl hisses.

Still don’t know her name. I hate this. I’ve studied Franklin Covey and Dale Carnegie forward and backward, yet I have no idea how to act in this woman’s presence.

“I’m serious,” I say to her. “You’ve locked me down.”

Her face gives no sign that she picked up on the real meaning behind what I said.

“Do you have a card?”

I produce a business card from the inside breast pocket of my suit, and hand it over.

She takes it in her latex-gloved hand and looks at it. “Gold Hill Investments…Cooper MacKenzie.”

She eyes me, and I notice the tiny beauty freckle next to the outside of her left eye. My chest aches as I can only think about kissing that adorable spot.

“I’m Harmony.”

Finally!

I smile. “Like the matchmaking site.”

She frowns.

Okay, no jokes about her name. Got it.

“Nice to meet you, Harmony. Sign me up, I want in.”

Harmony blinks at me, her tight face relaxing. “You do?”

She glances to her left, where her sister is fully involved in a conversation with none other than my brother, Carter, and his crooked necktie. Where did he come from?

“One hundred percent. Who’s your distributor?” I ask.

Harmony’s brow furrows. “Distributor?”

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