She grabbed a bakery box and began loading in the snickerdoodles. “Well, less than two weeks ago, you didn’t know my name, either.”
Somehow, she was right. How they’d managed to connect so quickly before ever even introducing themselves was beyond him. But that didn’t matter anymore. “You’ve done a great job.”
She glanced at Zoe, then at him, before concentrating back on the cookie order. “Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “Will that be all?”
Forget this distant, professional thing. He leaned across the counter, crowding her space a little in order to speak privately. “There’s something else I need.”
Her breath hitched, and her neck flushed. “Oh, right. You never picked a cake flavor for the wedding. I really need to get that on the books.”
Cake flavor—oh, for crying out loud. He wracked his brain for a flavor, any flavor besides vanilla, which would just make it obvious he didn’t care anymore. Brittany and Adam were just going to smash the stuff in each other’s faces and drive away married, anyway. Wasn’t that all that mattered? “The chocolate one.”
“Plain chocolate or the white chocolate?” She pulled a notebook from near the register and clicked a pen.
He shrugged. “Sure.”
She shot him a glare. “Will.”
“Either is fine.”
She huffed. “Did you even think about this decision?”
No, but he’d thought plenty about a different one. “Go out with me.”
Charlotte’s face drained of color.
That hadn’t come out as planned. He’d intended to be more intentional, more romantic. More like those characters in those Austen books she was always talking about. He cleared his throat. “Please?”
“Mom! Say yes!”
Oh, man. He’d forgotten they had an audience.
“He’s super handsome. And he liked my cupcakes.” Zoe grinned, her arms draped over the back of her chair.
“Zoe.” Charlotte closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe. “I think Julie needs you in the kitchen.”
“Really? She never needs help.” Zoe slowly climbed down from her chair, her expression a mixture of confusion and happiness. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” She ushered Zoe around the counter and through the swinging door. “Wash your hands first. Julie! Um, let Zoe help, okay?”
“Help me with wha—” Julie caught the swinging kitchen door, took one look at Will, and her mouth dropped open. “Oh. Right. With that.” She grabbed Zoe’s hand and tugged. “Come on, kiddo. Want to lick the spoons?”
The door swung shut against Zoe’s exuberant agreement.
Will rested his elbows on the counter between them, hoping she wouldn’t hear even at this distance how fast his heart was beating. “Seems I have one vote in my favor.” And a foot in his mouth, but maybe she wouldn’t notice that either.
“I can’t believe you.” Charlotte’s tone now possessed a steady sternness that threatened to rock Will back a step. Two-thirds Mama bear and one-third elementary school principal.
He blew out a short breath. “Look, I’m really sorry I asked in front of Zoe.” He lifted both hands in defense. “I wasn’t thinking. I know you probably have rules about that.”
Charlotte let out a strangled laugh. “Rules about—are you kidding me?” She reached up and briefly pinched the bridge of her nose as if gathering her composure. “Let me ask you a question. What would Melissa say about this?” She gestured between them.
He hesitated. That was the question of the hour in his own heart, but if Melissa meant what she’d been preaching at him for weeks now . . .
He calculated his answer carefully. “I think Melissa would be proud of me.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “Proud of you? Of all the nerve . . .”
“You’re right. It took nerve to ask you out.” So much so, that in fact, he was starting to wonder why he had. The longer this went on, the more his pride was curling into the fetal position. “You know, a simple no would have sufficed.”
“There’s nothing simple about a practically engaged man asking me out on a date. Again!” Her face flamed so hot he could have baked a cookie on her cheekbones. With anger? Or embarrassment? He could relate to both at the moment himself.
Then her words registered. Again—what again? He’d never asked her out before this moment. Never even hinted at it. “What do you mean, practically engaged?” He hadn’t dated anyone in years, much less proposed.
“I’m not stupid, Will.”
“What are you talking about, Charlotte?”
She pointed to her bare ring finger, as if playing charades would help him comprehend. “You. And Melissa.”
She shook her head, palms landing with a slap against the countertop. “You know, I fell for this kind of thing years ago, but I won’t do it again.” Her cheeks grew redder and her voice louder the longer she ranted. “Melissa deserves a lot better than this. I don’t even know her, but no woman deserves to be tricked and manipulated and treated like—”
“Melissa is my sister.”