“I love this stuff. Honestly, it’s relaxing for me. I don’t mind. It’ll take no time.” Wes polished off the rest of his salad.
He seemed genuine. “How about we trade salad for website work?” she suggested.
He grinned, put the lid back on his empty cup. “If that makes you feel better, sure. Got a laptop?”
Hailey laughed. “You want to do it now?”
He shrugged. “Why not? I can show you a couple things that’ll make it easier to update. I like the personal touch with the blog.”
She felt her cheeks heat. “Some of the stuff I write is a bit corny.”
“It’s honest.”
She arched her brows, noticing the way his lips quirked. She wasn’t writing sonnets for salads, but she did tend to babble on when she was excited about a new recipe.
“And corny?” She put her hands on her hips, waited.
Wes pursed his lips, holding her gaze. “Can it be both?”
A week ago, she thought she’d never see this man again. Now, he was making her laugh. Life was full of good surprises. She’d forgotten that for a little while.
5
Hailey bagged up the three salads—technically two with one side of chips—the surfer dude was buying, thanking him again for stopping by the shop. Slow and steady. That’s all she needed. She cleaned up the counter and went back to where Wes had taken up residence with her laptop.
“That guy was really happy you had Doritos,” Wes commented.
Hailey laughed, cleaning up the counter. “Yeah. It’s the first time I’ve had someone order a Ranch Taco Supreme minus the lettuce, peppers, beef, tomatoes, salsa, and guac.” The guy literally just wanted Doritos.
“You have eight thousand tabs open,” he said, picking up his lemonade without looking up.
“You’re supposed to be working magic on my website, not scrolling through my tabs.”
Now he glanced up, lifting his gaze to hers. “They kind of go hand in hand.”
“I have a busy brain,” she said, shooting him a smile.
She liked to be busy in general. Whether she was chopping veggies, writing emails, or paying bills, Hailey needed to keep her head and hands occupied.
“If this is an indication of your brain, you might need a reboot,” he said. His tone told her he was teasing but he wasn’t entirely wrong.
It was hard not to be surprised by his wry sense of humor. “Technically, that’s what moving here was.”
She hadn’t meant to say it out loud and was relieved he didn’t respond. Maybe he hadn’t even heard her. With only an hour to go until closing, Hailey puttered while Wes did whatever the technology version of puttering was. She grabbed her clipboard and went to take inventory of what she needed to top up for the following day.
“So, a break, huh?”
“Hmm?” Wes alternated tapping on the keyboard with making notes and sketches on the paper she’d left beside him. He looked up as she set her clipboard down near her veggie bins. “Sorry, what?”
“You’re taking a break? One no-show scared you away?”
His brows rose on his forehead. He had a multitude of what she’d call “serious” expressions. “How do you know it was just one?”
“Has it been more?”
“No. But you sounded so certain.”
“If someone is going to go to the trouble of being on a dating app, scrolling through possibilities, and making arrangements, it feels like they’re somewhat invested. Did Hayden ever contact you?”
He ducked his gaze again, picked up the pen. “She said she got held up and asked if we could reschedule.”
Hailey grinned, walking over to him. “You should say yes and then I can sit somewhere close by, get a good look at her, and see if your vision is really bad or she’s my doppelg?nger.”
Wes gave a half laugh, half groan. “That sounds awful. There’s nothing wrong with my vision. It was a bad photo and just an all-around error.”
Grabbing the clipboard, she finished the quick check of veggies and put the board away. She didn’t like to overprep because she wanted only the crispest, freshest veggies.
“Why San Verde?”
She grabbed the broom, moving out from behind the counter. So he had heard her. He was a dangerous sort—the kind who listened even when he didn’t seem to.
Even at first glance, when he’d walked over to her at the bakery, she would have pegged him as uptight. Type A. He was. But he was also … more. Smart, witty, and beneath the sarcasm, maybe a little scarred, like her?
It was surprisingly nice to have him there that afternoon to chat with. Between work and work and more work, she hadn’t made any new friends.
She debated how much to say, very aware he was watching her. “When I broke up with my ex, I needed to get out of L.A. I have a cousin here. We’ve always been close. Since I’m not close to anyone else in my family, it seemed as good a place as any.”
“Was the salad shop always your plan?”
She smiled, stopped sweeping to meet his gaze. “Absolutely not. I was going to run a food truck. But Piper, my cousin, brought me to Baked and I saw this place for lease. I don’t know,” she said, looking down at her shoes, then back up at him. “I don’t really buy into fate or anything like that but suddenly I didn’t want a place on wheels. I wanted a place to call my own.” She shrugged.
“I’m not really into fate either but I do believe in following your gut. I think you’re going to do well here,” he said after a moment.
Her laugh was louder than she intended. “You don’t believe in fate but you’re a fortune-teller?”
“No. But I am an investor. My brothers and I buy and sell businesses, properties. Sometimes we go in, assess a company, find ways to maximize profits and efficiency, and decide to keep it, expand it. I know business. I’m not as much of a people person as my brothers but I’d like to think I have good judgment. Our meeting excluded.”
She set the broom against the counter, laughing as she slid onto the stool next to him. “Yeah, your judgment failed you there. Or, your eyesight. I still think you should get it checked.”
He gave her a mock frown. Pressure built in her chest, making it ache a little. “It feels good to hear you say I have a chance. I’m worried about the lack of customers and I put my money into getting started without thinking about how much marketing cost.”
He frowned for real this time. “Are you always this open?”
She leaned back, suddenly irritated. “Why? Did I overshare?”
Wes reached out like he might cover her hand with his but stopped. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to be abrupt. I just wouldn’t want to see anyone take advantage of you. Professionally. You seem like you can hold your own personally.”
Not entirely sure if he’d complimented her, she shook her head. “No, not always so open.” In fact, now that he said it, she was surprised at herself. “I think I thought we were starting to become friends.”
“Friends?” His brows pushed together.
She poked him in his surprisingly firm bicep. “Yeah. You know, people who talk, hang out, don’t get offended right away when one is abrupt or mistakes them for another person?”
“I’m never living that down, am I?”
She shook her head.
“Friends.” This time when he said it, it was like he was trying out the word, seeing how it fit. “I think I like that.”
Now she laughed. “You are really not great for the ego.”
Wes winced. “Sorry.” He sighed. “Maybe I’m not cut out for dating or friendship.”
Slipping off the stool, she decided, first impressions and attraction aside, she liked him. She could use some friends and she’d never have to worry about him telling her the truth. “Nah. You’re just a work in progress.”
Turning his laptop, he smiled at her. “Speaking of, what do you think?”
The colors popped right off the screen and the salad cup he’d drawn had somehow made it onto the web page. She started to squeal with excitement but was cut off by the phone ringing.
“Hang on one second. I love it.” She hurried around the counter to the phone. “I can’t believe you did that in, like, the last half hour.” She picked up the house phone.
“By the Cup.”
“Hi, there. I’m wondering if I can do a preorder for tomorrow. We have an office lunch and a friend of mine told me about your shop.”
She must have done her happy tap because Wes looked over with an arched brow.
“Absolutely. Let me get a pen and you can tell me what you’d like.”
It was a long list. “What time were you thinking?”
“Noon?”
She hesitated. She usually had at least a few people come by at lunchtime. If she wanted to exaggerate greatly, she’d say that was her daily rush. “The thing is, I’m by myself and to deliver, I have to close the shop. Which I don’t mind but around one would be better.”
“How about I have someone pick up?”
“Really?”
The woman laughed. “Of course.”
“That’s fantastic. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome!”