Page 7 of Deja Brew

“And you turn it into sweet treats people come from miles to try.”

Her cheeks flush. “People don’t come from miles.”

I shrug. So I exaggerated, but she blushed and looks pleased, which was my goal. It isn’t much of a stretch. People know when they visit the beach to visit her café. A gasp distracts my scan of her rose blush and my eyes dart to hers.

“You’re hurt.”

“I am?” I usually hurt around her, but that’s more the longing talking than physical hurt—oh, she means my arms.

Her eyes scan my arms. My short-sleeved T-shirt doesn’t hide anything and there are deep indentations from the crease of my elbows to my wrists. They’ll fade and don’t hurt too much, but the way Lily’s looking at me you’d think I was bleeding out. She creeps closer and locks eyes with me as she reaches for my arms. Her warm hand grasps my wrist and she runs her other lightly up and down my arm, brushing her fingers against the marks and massaging gently. Her touch sends heat through me, and I hide a shiver.

“Why didn’t you tell me the boxes hurt?” Her eyebrows draw together and she blinks up at me, soft strokes on my arm distract me from her question. Her fingers pause on my hand where there are remnants of green and brown paint and I freeze, waiting for her questions, but she moves over the paint and back to the marks.

“They were heavy. I didn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“But you didn’t mind being hurt instead?” She huffs and drags me to a box and forces me to sit on it.

Baffled by her reaction, I watch her sit beside me and pull my other arm into her lap and begin massaging it. They’re just marks from the boxes, they’ll disappear. I don’t understand why she’s concerned. I drag boxes around all day, it’s not unusual to have scrapes.

“No.”

“I’m getting the first-aid kit. Stay here.” Lily jumps up and strides to the stairs, leaving me in shock on the sagging box, hoping I’m not breaking anything.

Why is she worried? It doesn’t make sense. Not that I’m complaining, but the marks hardly matter. What does she need a first-aid kit for?

A growl comes from the top of the stairs and she reappears, annoyed and lips pursed.

“Are you okay?” I ask. I haven’t seen her like this before…angry with a tinge of frustration. She looks like an avenging Valkyrie.

It’s doing things to me.

“The door’s locked.”

“What?”

“The door’s locked. One of the new girls must have forgotten to replace the key we keep down here.” Lily sighs heavily. “Gem will arrive soon and find us.”

I blink at her. Is she saying we’re locked in this room together? Until her other staff member decides to show up? Shouldn’t she be stressed about baking or something? What if something burns? If her baking burns, there won’t be anything to sell. All she’s doing is sitting beside me calmly, looking more regretful than anything. Stress doesn’t seem to be on her mind, and if it is, she’s hiding it well.

“I’m sorry I can’t help with the scrapes.” She brushes a soft finger across a mark and I shiver. “And I’m sorry you’re hurt because of me.”

I frown. Can’t have her thinking it’s her fault. “I’m not hurt because of you. And it’s barely sore anymore. I’m used to it. Comes with the job.” I nudge her shoulder with mine and am rewarded with a small smile.

“I hope there aren’t other deliveries you’ll be late for?”

“Nothing that can’t wait.” I can’t remember if I shut the back of the truck. Hopefully rain isn’t ruining the rest of the deliveries I’ve got today. But it’s a small price to pay to be here with her.

“Are you, um…” Lily trails off and her hand slips from my arm to fiddle with the hem of her T-shirt. She breathes in deeply, blows it out, shakes her head, and with a bright smile asks, “Are you dating anyone at the moment?”

I suck in a breath, and my eyes dart to hers. Why would she ask me that? Is it curiosity, politeness, or is she asking for herself? If she’s asking for herself, it means I have a chance. A chance to be near her, to talk to her, to hold her. Walk to work beside her instead of trailing behind, hoping she won’t turn around. And meet her cat.

She bites her lip and shuffles away from me. “What’s her name?”

I waited too long to reply and now she thinks I have a girlfriend. Absolutely not. Won’t have her thinking that, not if there’s any chance she’s interested in me.

“I’m not dating anyone,” I rush to say.

“You’re not?” Brown eyes brighten and scan my face.

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