Page 2 of That's a Wrap

“See you tomorrow, Randy.” She shakes her head at him as he grumbles about not coming inevery single daybefore he leaves.

The bright jingle of the bell on top of the door signals his departure, and it’s just Elle and me left in the cafe.

“Sorry about the wait,” she apologizes, putting on a pair of fresh gloves and returning to the sandwich station. “What can I get for you?”

Having her full attention on me sends a jolt of electricity up my spine and I find myself wanting to keep her focus on me for as long as possible. I quirk up the side of my mouth and lean my palms on the counter in a casual, yet interested fashion.

“No worries at all. It gave me some time to look at the menu.” That’s a lie. I’ve been too busy watching her to even waste a glance at the menu. “Everythinglooks really good, so what would you recommend?”

If she catches my double entendre, she doesn’t let on. Instead, she glances up at the menu board with a serious expression on her face and remains quiet for a few seconds.

“I think you’d like the Socra-tease. It’s a grilled chicken and feta sandwich,” she says with such conviction that I immediately agree with her.

“The Socra-tease it is then.”

She pulls a chicken breast out of the fridge and slaps it onto the grill before turning back to the sandwich station to grab the rest of the ingredients. “I grilled these fresh this morning. Just warming it up for your sandwich.”

“No worries. Take your time.” I shove my hands in my front pockets, pinching the inside of my thigh in an effort to get my dick to calm down. This girl is seriously gorgeous, even if she isa few years younger than me. When I spot a bag of thin tortillas next to the bread, I point to it and ask, “Oh, actually, can I get that on a spinach wrap instead of the ciabatta?”

That catches Elle’s attention and she looks up at me like I grew a second head. “You want it to be a wrap… instead of a sandwich?” she confirms.

“Yeah, is that okay?” Now, I’m confused by her confusion. I mean, most places can make that substitution pretty easily, right?

“Sure, it’s no problem.” She nods slowly with a small shrug, like she just can’t grasp why in the world I would want a wrap instead of a sandwich.

“Great, thanks.” With my hands still in my pockets, I rock back on my heels, doing my best to ignore the incredulous looks Elle keeps sending my way as she makes my sandwich-turned-wrap.

“So,” she starts, after a minute of expertly placing arugula and sun-dried tomatoes on the thin green flatbread. “Are you just passing through town? It seems a little out of season to be vacationing right now.”

“Not quite.” I keep my reply purposely vague. It works, and Elle looks up at me out of curiosity, raising a single dark eyebrow. Her way of asking for an explanation. “I actually just moved here. Magnolia Point is now home, sweet home.”

Her other eyebrow shoots up to meet its counterpart. “Youmovedhere? Who on Earth would move to Magnolia Point?” She tilts her head while eyeing me over the counter.

“Someone who’s not from here,” I retort with a smirk.

She rolls her gorgeous green eyes. “Yes, thank you, Einstein. What I meant was…whywould anyone want to move here, of all places?” Her pert nose scrunches up.

I shrug. “Why wouldn’t anyone want to move here? It’s nice, quiet, and right by the beach.”

A look of frustration flashes across her features, but she quickly smooths it out until her face is a blank mask. “It’s only quiet right now because it’s the off-season. Just wait. Once summer hits, you’ll want to be anywhere but here.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” I say, leaning against the counter again. “Herehas some pretty delectable-looking…sandwichesthat I’m dying to try. So maybe I’ll stick around.” Wanting to make sure she catches my meaning this time, my eyes drop down to her mouth as I lazily let the tip of my tongue drag along my own bottom lip.

Her mouth slightly pops open, allowing her plump pout to form an almost perfect circle while her whole face—not just her ears this time—turns a pretty shade of pink.

“Wha… But you don’t… Who…” she sputters, knitting her eyebrows as her long eyelashes flutter. Clearly, she’s just now realizing that I’m flirting with her, and it’s so fucking cute.

She stares up at me for a moment before blowing out a deep breath that sounds way more erotic than I’m sure she intends. Then she returns her focus on her work, folding the parchment paper over my sandwich. Clearing her throat, she walks over to the register and I follow along, grabbing a bag of barbecue chips and a bottled soda from the cooler.

“Alright, that’ll be $10.59,” she states, staring at the register while refusing to acknowledge her recent loss of words.

I’m almost disappointed that she’s choosing to ignore my flirtatious attempts, but I’m too busy trying to do math in my head as the amount she gave me seems wrong. “That’s pretty steep for just a drink and some chips,” I comment—although I’m already taking out my wallet to pay.

“Well, that’s because that total is for the wrap, chips, and a drink.” Her eyes drift to the side.

“Oh.” I pause. “But doesn’t that sign outside say that I can get a free sandwich if I get chips and a drink?”

She nods. “Yes, that’s right.”

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