Page 7 of Perfect Pact

“It’s my pleasure—um…” He cocks his head to the side. “I didn’t get your name.”

“Beth. Beth Michaels.”

He nods a couple times, as if he’s heard the name before. Maybe he has. Every single time you Google Mason Creek, something new appears. Especially since our local gossip column went digital. Instead of just paper flyers and emails, they have a website. Now you can find out where all the hidden attractions are while catching up on the latest Mason Creek scandal.

“What?” I bite on my bottom lip, wondering what’s going through his mind right now.

“Nothing.” A slow smile creeps up on his face as he picks up his tasty treat and takes a bite.

“You can’t just ask for my name and then stare at me with no reply.” I stand there, pouting and somewhat annoyed.

“Sure I can.”

“What can I get you, miss?” The barista interrupts whatever it is or maybe she doesn’t since the suit still hasn’t left. He’s parked in front of me, watching me while he eats his tart.

“Oh…um…” I’m at a loss for words as I eye the suit polishing off the rest of his pastry, licking his lips, leaving no crumb behind.

With each dart of his tongue, I force down the dirty thoughts trying to rise to the surface.

“I better get going.” He takes a sip of his coffee as he begins to back away. “I guess I’ll see you around…Beth Matthews.” He shakes his head as he heads for the door.

Is he serious right now? He approached me first. I rejected him. He approached me again, I give him a second chance, and he just walks out of here and doesn’t even introduce himself? Not cool, city boy.

“Do you need more time?” The barista sounds annoyed as she eyes the growing line behind me.

My eyes dart to the suit who’s about to walk out the door then back to the barista. “I’ll take what he had,” I ramble off a little too fast, but when you know, you know. “Hey!” I call out after the sexy stranger. “What’s your name?”

The suit spins around and hollers out, “Dusty.” Then he’s gone.

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry, but we are out of the raspberry lemon tart. Is there something else I can get you?”

My head jerks in her direction. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“No, ma’am, I’m not. The guy in front of you bought the last one.” She opens up the display and pulls out a tray of muffins. “I’m afraid this is all we have left.”

All the air deflates out of my body. The one thing I was looking forward to all morning, stolen by that charming, entitled jerk.

Figures.

I contemplate taking my coffee, snagging one of the twenties off the counter, and running over to The Sweet Spot, where Java Jitter’s gets their baked goods from, and see if they have any tarts left. Instead, I nod to the money. “I’ll take a large dark roast. And how many muffins can I get with that?”

“Five.

“Fine.” I huff. “Give me two blueberry, two lemon poppyseed, and one double chocolate chip.”

“Coming right up." She grabs a white box and begins filling it up. “I’m going to throw in a banana nut for your troubles.”

“That’s very sweet of you. Thank you.”

Take that, Dusty No Last Name…not so charming. If I can’t have the tart, breakfast and maybe lunch will be on you the next couple days.

I don’t know what I was thinking. Who needs a sexy stranger for a weekend when you can have muffins for a week? I’ll take muffins over men any day!

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