8. Neesha
NEESHA
J ust let me die now.
Especially when he’s dressed in flannel, baring those arms like he works at a charming little pumpkin farm.
Men like that don’t belong in a small town like Maple Falls unless they’re auditioning for a Gilmore Girls return.
When he catches me looking, his face breaks into the kind of smile that should be illegal.
Note to self: never accept challenges from my friends.
I glance at Mabel and Fiona with a panicked look. They appear like they’re two seconds from bursting into laughter and possibly giving me a slow clap.
And right now, I feel like someone’s stuffed my mouth with cotton.
“Hi…ho,” I stammer because that’s what happens when you try to say “Hi” and “Hello” at the same time. You sound like one of the Seven Dwarfs having an identity crisis.
“Hi-ho to you too,” he says with an amused glint in his eyes. Either he’s secretly laughing at me or finds it somewhat endearing.
I really hope it’s the second.
Mabel bites back a laugh so hard I’m worried she might rupture something. Fiona covers her mouth like she can’t decide whether to feel sorry for me or start taking notes so she can coach me on social skills later.
“I meant…just hi,” I say, internally scolding myself to please get it together before I further humiliate myself.
Mabel clears her throat loudly.
“Um, have you met my friends Mabel and Fiona?” I ask. They both stand next to the barista bar, watching my every move and waiting for my big moment. But now that Lucian’s here, I have no idea how to make that happen.
“I’ve seen them around town. It’s good to see you ladies again.” He lifts a hand in a quick wave before turning back to me. “So you do have a social life.” His mouth quirks.
“Of course I do,” I say a little too defensively. “I don’t just hang out with Henry all the time.”
Okay, that’s a bald-faced lie. But I don’t want him to think I’m pathetic.
“She’s coming over for girls’ night,” Mabel says, jumping to my defense like the good friend she is.
I give her a grateful look before she adds with a wicked grin, “We’re going to eat guacamole, watch a rom-com, and discuss the tragic wasteland that is her dating life. You know, normal Thursday night activities.”
I give her a look that says I will hide your body where no one will ever find it before turning to pour his coffee with hands that are definitely not showing my nerves. Nope . Steady as a rock.
“Sounds…educational,” he says, clearly trying not to laugh.
This is my big moment. I should say something charming.
“Oh, it’s not that tragic,” I say quickly, shooting my friends another warning glare. “Just, you know, I’m selective. Very selective.”
My first test and I’ve spectacularly failed.
“Don’t let her fool you,” Mabel stage-whispers behind her hand. “She hasn’t been on a date since the Nate Disaster. She’s out of practice and basically a hermit at this point. ”
I lean across the counter and slap my hand over her mouth before she can reveal any more embarrassing details about my nonexistent love life.
“What she means to say is that I’m taking a well-deserved break from the dating scene.
” I clear my throat. “So, what brings you to our humble establishment today?”
“Just stopping in to pick up my order,” he says, “but this conversation is far more interesting.”
I tilt my head, giving my friends a look what you ’ ve done now glare. “As you can see, my friends have mistaken me for someone who requires a wingman for coffee orders.”
Lucian glances at my friends, who are trying and failing to look innocent. If they smiled any bigger, their faces would crack.
“See?” I say. “Totally delusional. They’ve been watching too many reruns of Gilmore Girls and completely lost touch with reality.” I slide his coffee across the counter. “Anything else I can get you?”
“The cupcake order,” he says. “I need to make a delivery.”
“Those were for you ?” I ask, frowning.
“Not mine. I’m just the delivery guy.”
“Oh, well, they’re in the storage room fridge if you want to help me carry them.” I take one last look at the girls as I pass by them. They’re both giving me thumbs up like I just successfully parallel parked a twelve-passenger van.
What’s worse is that I still haven’t flirted with Lucian because I have zero idea how to be charming without completely embarrassing myself. What am I supposed to say? “ Nice flannel, want to see my cupcakes?”
I shake my head and mouth absolutely not on my way to the storage room.
“So, who are you playing delivery boy for today?” I ask, pushing the key into the lock and heading inside the storage room.
Shelves and boxes crowd the door. The tight quarters suddenly feels about the size of a phone booth, with a fridge and boxes crammed into every available inch.
Lucian is forced to stand close—like, uncomfortably close —because there’s barely enough room for one person.
“It’s a surprise…for a lady friend.”
“Lady friend?” I whirl around in surprise, bumping into Lucian, and there it is—that sharp little stab of jealousy that I have absolutely no right to feel.
Is Lucian dating someone? I hate the way it creates this weird knot in my chest, like I’m actually bothered that someone else gets his time and attention instead of me.
But why does it matter if Lucian buys cupcakes for other women?
He’s just my neighbor. My highly attractive, incredibly helpful neighbor who smells like crisp autumn air and fixes things with the kind of competence that might be flirting in another form.
Because there’s something very attractive about a man who’s handy. The kind of man who just does things, not because he’s asked to, but because he genuinely cares.
I hand him a box of cupcakes from the refrigerator, trying to look casual and not like I’m internally dissecting the news about his “lady friend.”
“Sorry, you don’t have to tell me,” I say. “It’s not my business.”
“Kind of like it’s not my business that I want to know why you’re out of practice in the dating department?”
I turn my back to grab the other box, because there’s no way I’m having this conversation while looking at his stupidly attractive face.
“This is so embarrassing.” My ears burn despite the cool temperature of the refrigerator and the fact I keep brushing him every time I turn around, which is definitely not helping me think clearly.
“Well, I’d be happy to volunteer my services,” he says casually, like he’s offering to help me fix a broken faucet instead of my love life.
I nearly fumble the cupcake box. “They want me to go on a practice date ,” I say, using air quotes like that’ll make it sound less humiliating.
“Because apparently it’s been so long since I went out with someone who wasn’t Nate, I need a dress rehearsal.
” I slam the fridge shut with one hip, balancing the box against my side.
“And just for the record, I don’t need practice. I’m perfectly capable of… you know .”
“What?” He grins.
My brain blanks. “Um, like…the normal stuff. Flirting. Complimenting people’s…eyebrows. Casual, non-weird touching. That kind of thing.”
“You get a lot of eyebrow compliments?” he asks, his mouth twitching in amusement.
“You know what I mean.”
“And what constitutes non-weird touching?” he asks with mischief in his eyes. “Asking for a friend.”
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I mutter, my face now officially on fire. This is exactly why I need practice—I can’t even explain what dating involves without sounding like an alien who’s never interacted with humans before.
A smirk tugs at his lips. “For what it’s worth, your eyebrow game is excellent.”
“Oh my gosh, I really am terrible at this,” I say, trying to exit as quickly as possible, but as I turn the handle, I notice it’s stuck. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“What?” Lucian asks.
I put my box down and pull at it, harder this time. “Either this wonky lock is jammed again, or my friends thought it would be absolutely hilarious to lock me in here with you.”
He sets the cupcake box down and tests the door himself. “Yep. That’s definitely locked. Though I have to ask—why is the lock on the other side of this door?”
“Security reasons. They didn’t want customers wandering in.” I knock on the door, but no one answers. “I think they left. Which means we’re stuck here.”
Lucian leans against a shelf, the maple-leaf tattoo peeking out from his crossed arms, teasing me. “Well, it’s not the worst place to be trapped. Good company, climate-controlled environment…” He pops open one of the cupcake boxes. “And emergency desserts. Want one?”
He takes out one of the pumpkin-spice cupcakes with cream-cheese frosting and offers it to me like we’re on a date instead of trapped in a storage room together.
“Shouldn’t you be saving those for your lady friend ?”
“Oh, she doesn’t need all these,” he says, before taking a bite, then giving a little groan of pleasure that makes something inside me spark. “These are incredible, Neesha.”
“Wow. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard someone react that way to a cupcake before.”
“You sure you don’t want one? I won’t judge if you groan too.” Then he has the audacity to wink at me.
“And give my friends something to talk about? No, thanks. Do you have your phone?”
He reaches for his pocket and his arm grazes mine. “I forgot I left it in my truck.”
“Emmy won’t be back for at least an hour. Knowing my friends, they’ve probably left me in here on purpose.” I lean against the door and tip my head back in defeat. “This is like something out of a movie.”
He lifts a shoulder. “Sounds like a show I’d actually watch,” he says. “Especially if you’re in it.”
“Is this a horror movie or romantic comedy? Because if it’s a horror movie, I’m definitely the first one to die.”
“Oh, no, you’re very resourceful—your fence-climbing skills are unmatched.”
“There aren’t any creative sports challenges here,” I say. “Unless you count breaking down a door.”