“You’re not forcing me. Not at all. I’m sorry I’m making you feel that way. You just . . . you caught me off guard. And I did warn you that I’m shy. That wasn’t an exaggeration.” My heart thundered harder the more I rambled. I scuffed my shoe against the cement, wishing I could be articulate and interesting in person. “I’m really sorry.”
Nate tipped up my chin with his knuckle. It was a friendly action. Not too intimate. Yet heat stretched inside my belly, extending all the way down into my toes. He brought his hand quickly away. “There you go again.”
“What?”
“Apologizing.”
A smile spread across my face. And as it did, some of the knots in my stomach loosened. Somehow, simultaneously, this guy set my heart at ease and my senses on high alert. I took a deep breath. Forced my shoulders to relax.
He dipped his chin. “Are you sure you want to have coffee with me?”
“I’m positive.” I glanced inside the window, where we’d already garnered the attention of a few familiar patrons. “But I should warn you. If you take me in there, Patty will see us. And once Patty sees us, all the other Bunco Babes will know that I was having coffee with a stranger. And then the entire town of Mayfair will be abuzz.”
The twinkle returned to his eyes. “What, exactly, is a Bunco Babe?”
“They’re a group of women who get together once a week to play Bunco and swap gossip. They have pink T-shirts and everything.”
He chuckled.
The sound of it boosted my confidence. Maybe I could be as interesting in person as I was in our e-mail exchanges.
“That’s not a problem for me, since I don’t live here. You’re the one who has to deal with the fallout.” He raised one of his eyebrows. “Are you up for it?”
“I think so.”
“Okay, then.” Nate opened the door and swept the air with his arm, an invitation for me to go first.
It didn’t take more than half a second before Patty saw us from behind the counter. Her eyes went extra wide, making them look as white as white inside her dark face. Nearly as wide as she was tall, she waddled more than she walked. “Amelia Woods, coming in on a Saturday before one o’clock?” She eyed Nate approvingly. “And who’s this good-looking gentleman friend you have here?”
Every single person in the diner had stopped eating and was now officially staring. Patty’s voice carried.
“Patty, this is Nate. Nate, this is Patty.”
Nate shook Patty’s hand, told her it was a pleasure to meet her, and said the food smelled delicious.
She swatted her dish towel at him, then led us both to the corner booth, where it was—as she emphasized—more romantic. The flush in my cheeks expanded into my ears.
“What can I get you?” Patty asked as Nate and I scooted into our seats.
He deferred to me. “Are you hungry?”
I shook my head. My stomach was currently engaged in a circus routine. I couldn’t eat if I tried.
“I guess it’ll just be coffee then.”
Patty scooted off to get our order, and Nate relaxed back into the booth, looking at me with a big, goofy grin.
“What?” I said.
“Nothing. It’s just great to be here with you in person.”
The circus performers in my stomach did some fluttery acrobatics. “How’s the book?”
“I’m closing in on the end.”
“Do you have anything lined up for after?”
“A couple opportunities have come my way.” His grin didn’t falter.
And it was highly contagious. I’m pretty sure the two of us looked like a couple of grinning fools. “Are you really not going to tell me who the celebrity is?”
He shook his head. “My lips are sealed.”
Patty returned, set two mugs in front of us, filled both to the brim, and slipped away.
Nate crossed his arms on the table and leaned toward me. “Your shop is pretty great.”
“Thank you.”
“I saw the picture of you and your mom on the wall.”
“Yeah?”
“You two look a lot alike.”
“I definitely got her hair. But she wore the red prettier, I’m afraid.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
My skin prickled with pleasure, all the way up into my hairline. “So, twenty-four?”
“Any more guesses?”
I took a slow sip of my coffee, keeping eye contact over the rim of my mug. “Number of articles you’ve written?”
“No, but that’s a good guess.”
“Countries you’ve visited?”
“I wish.”
“Number of girls you’re currently in correspondence with?”
He let out a bark of laughter, then eased his arm over the backrest of the booth. He was perfection sitting across from me—absolute perfection. And he was here. With me. By choice. Laughing like he was enjoying it as much as I was enjoying it. “I like you, Amelia.”
The words heated up every square inch of my skin. “I like you too.”
“Enough to let me tag along to Wisconsin’s biggest corn maze?”
With him looking at me the way he did, the word no dropped completely out of my vocabulary.