Page 24 of A Perfect Match
Pat snorts.“The food jokes will play well with the audience, I can already tell.You got a new one for today?”
I think, accessing the compendium within me.“Which potato makes the best detective?”After Pat shrugs, I say, “The one whose eyes are peeled.”
There are a couple groans, which only make me laugh.
"If we're lucky, your feisty neighbor will make an appearance," he adds with a smirk.“She sure acts different when you’re not around, I’ve noticed.It’s like night and day when we’re filming over there.”
Pat has roped in a new part-time camera crew to begin capturing footage over at Piper’s shop.I’m glad that she’s getting a slice of the pie too—even if her spot will end up more of a footnote than a feature like mine—because I still feel bad for ousting her from the apartment.Maybe I view it as my secret olive branch, because she certainly doesn’t give me a chance to explain myself.
But she’ll take the time to suck your face off.
Fuck.Those kisses.A shiver runs down my spine, and I’m half-hard from the memory.Not great when I’m running through the day’s shooting plan with Pat.
I clear my throat.“Yeah, she’s not exactly a superfan of Ray’s.”
Though maybe that’ll change after last night.Even though nobody but us knows what happened across the fence.
We go through the rest of the shot list, but my mind keeps drifting to that strawberry blonde caught in the rose bush, to soft lips and eager moans, to the way she'd melted against me like she’s been dying for it since Cleveland just as much as I have.
And her radio silence this morning?Annoying, but not unexpected.
As soon as Pat leaves to address something with the crew outside, I decide I need coffee.
I’m going straight to Cloud Nine.
The bell on Piper's shop door jingles when I push it open.The smell hits me immediately—sugar and vanilla and something distinctly her.Her shop is busy with the mid-morning crowd, perfect lighting streaming through the windows, illuminating the selfie wall with its impossibly photogenic marshmallow and moss display.Everyone's got their phones out.I can just imagine the social media tags flying, the shares, the filters enhancing the photos being uploaded.
She’s got a winning combo in here, and she knows it.
Piper is behind the counter in a crisp white apron, her strawberry blonde hair swept up into a messy bun that somehow looks completely intentional.She doesn't even glance my way.She's too busy piping something onto a tray of marshmallows, her steady hands betraying years of practiced precision.
"Good morning," I say, sliding up to the counter.
She jolts like I've shocked her, nearly ruining whatever design she was creating."Oh my—Crouton.It’s you.”Her cheeks flush a shade of pink that matches some of her more colorful confections."What do you want?"
"Coffee.Black."I pause."Do you greet all your customers like this?”
“No.Just the ones who kick me out of my apartment and habitually block access to my main source of revenue.”
So we’re back to that.“Can we talk about what happened last night?"
Her eyes dart to her customers, then back to me."There are people here, Kru."
"So?"
"So I'm not discussing my personal life in front of paying customers."
"When would you prefer to discuss it?"
She rolls her eyes and busies herself with pouring my coffee."I've been working.Some of us can't just wander around whenever we feel like it."
"I'm working too."
"Seems more like you’re annoying me."She slides the coffee across the counter."Four dollars."
I hand her a ten and don't bother collecting the change."You know, most people who spend the night with their tongues down each other's throats don't pretend it didn't happen the next day."
The old lady behind me gasps.Piper's face goes from pink to crimson in half a second.
