Page 35 of The Backup Groom
“Okay, I have no idea what that has to do with your snooping,” Amber said. “Did you use that jingle analogy because I work in advertising and you thought it would be relatable, which would distract me from your snoopiness?”
“Absolutely. Did it work?”
“Not in the slightest.”
I gave her a toothy grin. “A for effort, though?”
Amber wrinkled her nose, looking like she wasn’t mad at me. “I’ll give you a C, but you need to stay after class for misbehaving.”
I shrugged. “It’s not really punishment—I like the teacher.”
Oops—that came out before I could stop it. I felt my cheeks flame the second she leaned back in her chair and studied me. It almost sounded like I was flirting.
Fortunately, she didn’t seem to mind.
“You’re forgiven,” Amber said, this time with a genuine smile. “And thank you. You always have this way of distracting me and making me feel better when I’m up in my head too much.”
If she called me nice, I was going to punch something.
Amber picked up her phone and grimaced at the text. “For the record, I hate surprises.”
Note to self: This is not a good day to tell her your real name.
“You’ve never had a pleasant surprise?” I asked.
Amber seemed to mull it over. “Well, sure, occasionally, but this week has been full of too many surprises, so I’d be perfectly fine to take a break from them.”
“I understand,” I said, trying to make her feel better. “But if it’s from your best friend, how bad could it be?”
The bell dinged over the door at the new arrival.
A short, bald man wearing yellow Crocs with matching shorts and a black T-shirt that said “Husband Material” stopped in front of us. He was the spitting image of George Costanza fromSeinfeld.
He motioned to Amber. “Pardon me . . . are you Amber Norris?”
She looked up and hesitated, like she was almost afraid to answer. “Uh, yeah, that’s me.”
“Hot damn, Stella wasn’t lying. You certainly are a looker.” The man beamed like he had won the lottery. “Pardon my manners. I’m Ryan Scott. I’m a rye bread wholesaler, always looking to expand my sales territory. Light rye, dark rye, crisp breads, pumpernickel, and marbled rye, I’m your guy. Stella contacted me and said I needed to get down here right away for a once-in-a-lifetime business opportunity. Go ahead. Make my day.”
Amber was speechless.
So was I, truth be told.
What kind of business opportunity exactly?
As much as I wanted to know, I felt uncomfortable being there in the middle of a potential business transaction with a third Ryan Scott.
Amber was turning red from what appeared to be embarrassment.
That was my cue.
“I should get back to work.” I jumped up and headed back to the counter.
“Wow—you look like you saw a ghost,” Dean said as I approached.
“Worse,” I replied, shaking my head. “I met another Ryan Scott.”
ChapterEight
