Page 49 of The Grump Next Door
“Honey. It’s been less than twenty-four hours.”
“That’s like three years in text time.”
Gloria abandons her arrangement and joins us, settling onto a velvet ottoman that definitely wasn’t designed for flower shops but somehow works perfectly here.
“Show me the conversation,” she commands.
I hesitate. “It’s not that interesting.”
“Bull. Hand it over.”
I reluctantly pass my phone. Both women crowd around the screen like they’re decoding ancient hieroglyphics.
“Oh my God,” CeCe breathes. “Look at these response times.”
“Immediate,” Gloria observes. “Every single one.”
“And he resigned himself to your color-coded itinerary.”
“That’s basically foreplay for control freaks.”
I grab the phone back. “You guys are reading way too much into this.”
“Are we though?” CeCe tilts her head. “Because from where I’m sitting, this looks like a man who’s trying very hard not to be interested and failing spectacularly.”
Gloria nods sagely. “The best ones always fight it the hardest.”
“He’s not fighting anything. He’s just… Dean. Serious and professional and probably regretting ever letting Mason use his property.”
“Uh-huh.” CeCe doesn’t sound convinced. “And that’s why he hand-delivered you a sandwich after the goat incident?”
“That was basic human decency.” And I now regret telling them that.
“Poppy, darling,” Gloria says, her voice gentle but firm, “basic human decency doesn’t involve gourmet turkey and smoked gouda from the area’s most beloved deli.”
I pause. “How do you know what kind of sandwich it was?”
“You described it. In detail. Twice.”
Shit. I did, didn’t I?
“Plus,” CeCe adds, “you’ve mentioned his jawline at least four times since I got here this morning.”
“I have not—”
“Sweetie, you have.”
“I was being descriptive.”
“You were being thirsty.”
I throw a piece of baby’s breath at her. She dodges it with dancer reflexes.
“Okay, fine,” I admit. “Maybe I’m a little… aware of him.”
“Aware,” Gloria repeats, like I just said I’m a little aware of gravity.
“Physically aware.”
