Page 79 of Chess Not Checkers
I spin in a circle so he can see his name on the back where the apron doesn’t cover it.
“Did you think it would be someone else’s?” I ask cheekily.
“Never,” he says in a low tone that makes me shiver.
“Are you going to come inside and show me what you’re hiding?” I ask with a giggle as I take the two coffees from him.
He remembered my favorite, the iced cinnamuch latte from Sweet Bean, and I think my face is going to be stuck in a permanent grin because of this man.
Shepherd comes inside, somehow managing to keep his surprise hidden while pulling off his sneakers. Once he’s out of his shoes, he pulls out a bouquet of—
I tilt my head to the side, a giggle bubbling out of me. “Are those herbs?”
He gives me a shy grin. “I thought you might like them better than flowers, though I’ll get you those too,” he tacks on the end in a rush.
I take them from him and breathe in the earthy mixture. There’s Italian parsley, cilantro, rosemary, thyme, and even a few sprigs of pretty lavender in there. He must have arranged this himself and tied it with butcher’s twine.
“This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” I tell him. “Thank you.”
He bends down and places a soft kiss on my lips. “You deserve all of this and more.”
A chorus of giggles erupts from the kitchen. “I thought your roommates would be asleep right now.”
I sigh. “Me too.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll leave you two to your coffee date,” Saylor says as we enter the kitchen.
“But I wanted coffee,” Marigold whines.
Saylor tugs on her sweatshirt and hisses, “Later.”
Aurora shrugs and heads back to her bedroom. It’s then that I notice she’s wearing fluffy pink slippers. Hmm. Wouldn’t have thought her to be a fluffy slipper girl.
Saylor drags Marigold to her room while promising her she can have coffee soon. Finally, we’re alone.
I set the coffees and my perfect bouquet on the counter, then turn to Shepherd.
“I was actually going to come by to see you on my way to the parade,” I tell him.
He grins. “Great minds think alike.”
“I have a gift for you too.”
His brows shoot up. I turn and grab one of the muffins, then walk over and hold it out to him.
“Pumpkin chocolate chip muffins baked by me…” I meet his sparkling blue eyes. “For you.”
He looks as if he might confess that he’s in love with me right here and now. My heart stutters. I wouldn’t mind if he did. He takes the muffin, handling it like it’s a diamond necklace instead of a baked good.
“I’ve never had a chef bake something just for me.”
“And you still haven’t because, I repeat, I amnot a chef.”
I squeal as he snags my wrist and pulls me to him. He dips down and gives me a slow, full kiss. Then he pulls back and whispers, “Yet.”
Chapter thirty-nine
Paparazzi
