Page 20 of My Grumpy Sweetheart
“I’ll get us baskets,” Bailey said happily without any rush, and he walked over to a cart and got us two woven baskets. He didn’t appear to be in any hurry, and I felt myself relax upon seeing him skip over the meadow.
Yeah. We didn’t need to win this stupid contest; we just needed to make the most of it and have fun.
“Okay, Mr. Axe Murderer, perpetrator, and knight in shining armor, let’s pick some apples.”
“Aren’t nicknames supposed to be shorter?” I asked, trying to muster up my usual frown but finding it really hard with Bailey.
“Meh,” he said, shrugging. “If you want a shorter nickname, I can totally work with that, but you don’t look like a duck.”
“Duck?”
“Dakota — Dak — duck.”
Oh… I’d found my frown and glare again.
Bailey just giggled, shoving me good-naturedly. He was right; he didn’t even move me an inch. “Thought so. I prefer grumpy axe murderers, anyway.”
With that, he skipped ahead, stopping at a big apple tree and starting to pick the first apples, carefully placing them in his basket.
I, on the other hand, could only stare at him in… fascination? Horror? Utter and complete shock?
Was he kidding me or was he actually serious?
Why does it matter? a little voice inside me that sounded a lot like my conscience asked.You already decided you don’t like him because he thought it was okay to buy someone else.
Yeah, I’d decided that. But by getting to know him more, it was getting harder to ignore one little teeny, tiny fact: he’d thought I’d sold myself off willingly. And he didn’t seem to be the type to ever even force me to go through with the date if I’d told him how my profile happened to be on the app in the first place.
Shaking my head, I tried to clear my thoughts, but everything was a tangled mess. There was only one thing I knew for sure: I wouldn’t let that sleazeball Sean anywhere near him. Which meant I needed to hurry because the guy didn’t get the fucking message and was on the way to Bailey, phone in hand. Not on my watch.
* * *
“I still think you overreacted,” Bailey told me, but he didn’t look upset. Quite the contrary, he looked perfectly happy, walking into the next activity of doom.
Two hours of apple picking, one hour of free time to take a shower and stuff, and now we were headed toward the kitchen area. Apparently, they regularly gave cooking classes in a farm-to-table style environment. Whatever that was supposed to mean. It was on their website that I’d looked up while Bailey was blocking the shower.
“He was being incredibly rude,” I defended myself, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
Bailey’s pupils dilated a fraction and his tongue peeked out to lick his lips. “He just wanted to stay in contact.”
I blinked at him incredulously. He couldn’t seriously believe that, could he? “He asked for your number so he could ask you out. He’s been trying to flirt with you whenever I had my back turned.” Which basically meant I hadn’t taken my eyes off Bailey the whole time we’d been apple picking. Not a single second, which didn’t help my confusing thoughts even one bit but helped the rage inside me calm down. “Considering he knows perfectly well that we’re on a date this weekend, it’s just so… fucking rude.”
Bailey beamed at me, one corner of his mouth lifting a little higher than the other, giving him a crooked smile that was so earnestly happy, it hit me like a punch to the gut, leaving me breathless for a moment. Ho cocked his head and placed a hand on my forearm, a gesture I thought should feel condescending but somehow didn’t. Somehow it felt comforting, relaxing. It helped to chase away the tightness in my shoulders and jaw.
“I’m sorry,” he said, the smile toning down a little. “I didn’t even realize he was flirting. I thought he was just being nice.” He bit his lip for a moment. “And honestly, I get it. I think I’d be pretty pissed if someone tried flirting with you during our date.” Now he was giggling again. “But I think I don’t need to worry about it. Not because people wouldn’t want to flirt with you!” he hastily added, his face turning beet red. “I mean, you have to know you’re fucking hot. Like… seriously. You’re a wet dream for anyone who digs the whole mountain man-lumberjack-vibe. But your glare isspectacular, and anyone trying to flirt with you while you’re looking at them like you want to kill them has to be a special brand of crazy.”
“Like you?”
Bailey just laughed. “I’m not crazy. I’m adorable.” He batted his lashes at me, making my lips twitch.
Dammit.
“No, you’re a lunatic who’s into serial killers,” I grumbled, thinking about our first day.
Yesterday.
Had it really only been a day? Granted, we’d spent almost every waking minute together, so if a regular date was two hours, we were already at date four? Five? But in real time, it had been merely twenty-four hours since he’d picked me up.
“Welcome to today’s apple pie making class,” someone shouted cheerily, and the room fell silent.
