A Guide to Being Just Friends(10)

“I’m really sorry.” She meant it. It had been a while since she’d dated but she’d had some less-than-stellar ones herself.

Once again, his brows darted together. “I came here to say that to you.”

She leaned against the counter from her side so she was across from him. “You did. Apology accepted.”

“That’s it?”

She laughed. “Was there something else?”

Wes folded his arms on the sleek white eating area. She only had three stools on this shorter side of the counter. The rest were arranged in front of the window on the other side of the store.

“No. I just figured you might … you know what? I have no idea. I didn’t get to try your salad yesterday. Can I have a Wild for Walnuts?”

Happy to shift the conversation away from anything awkward, she nodded, washed her hands, and pulled on some gloves.

“So, pen—”

Her arm shot out and her index finger aimed right at him as she backed up toward the service bar. “Don’t say it. We will not speak of that. Stupid voice texting.”

When he laughed, really laughed, his eyes crinkled. “Sure.”

“Be nice or I’ll put hot sauce in your salad.”

“Maybe I like hot sauce,” he said, his tone shifting.

She smiled, grabbing a cup and tongs. This was better than awkward. While she put the ingredients together, she asked, “Any more dates? I mean, ones that showed.”

“No. After that one I decided to take a break,” he said, watching her layer butter lettuce, chopped walnuts, marinated tomatoes, and cucumbers.

“Sometimes you need one.” She could understand that no problem.

“You speaking from experience?”

Focusing on her task, she gave a slight nod she wasn’t even sure if he saw. “My last relationship required more than a break. I’m on a semipermanent hiatus.”

His laughter brought her gaze back up. “Ouch. Must have been bad.”

“You have no idea.” She walked back over, put the salad and a fork in front of him. “Here you go, Wes. One Wild for Walnuts.”

After he paid, she thought he’d leave. Nice knowing you, sorry for the mix-up, see you. But he didn’t. He opened it up and dug in.

“Damn. This is good. I can’t believe it’s good for you. When people order salad at a restaurant, I always think it’s a waste of a meal out but wow. Maybe I’m the one who was wrong.”

She grinned, came around the counter again. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

His lips fell flat but she could see the laughter in his gaze. “Well played.”

Giving him some space so he could eat, she cleaned the small mess she’d made.

Grabbing the take-out menus, she wiped them down, wondering if she should get some nonlaminated ones made. If she offered a delivery service even a couple days a week, she could—

“I was thinking,” Wes said.

Hailey turned when he didn’t finish.

“There’s no apology salad but I have other skills.”

“Oh my God please don’t let that be your come-on line.” She hadn’t meant to blurt out the immediate reaction. Damn, brain, keep some things to yourself.

His face blanched, paler than the plastic fork in his hand. “No! I’m not … I’m not coming on to you. I was going to offer to play with your website.”

“Excuse me?” Maybe she spent too much time texting with Piper but everything he said seemed to have a double meaning. She bit back her smile when she noticed his complexion getting rosier.

He set the cup and his fork down, held his hands up, palms facing her. “Please let me start again. I work with computers and software. I’m very good at my job.” He gestured to the paper she’d put aside. “Can I see that?”

Slowly, she grabbed it, slid it back in front of him with the pen. He picked it up, started moving his hand, blocking her view. “You need help with your site. I can help you make a few improvements that’ll have a big impact.”

He continued to move his hand over the page.

“You saw the site?”

He glanced up. “I did. When I was looking up your store, while I was gathering the courage to come apologize, I noticed your website has very limited capabilities.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay…”

“I thought upgrading it, making it more user-friendly, maybe even putting in an advance order capability”—he put the pen down, slid the paper across—“would make a nice ‘I’m sorry’ gesture.”

Wow. He’d drawn an adorable, lifelike salad cup, complete with a smile and happy eyes. Little vegetable sketches were arced across the page as if they were eager to head into the cup.

“On the site, we could animate some graphics, make it fun.”

“You’re a good artist,” she said, picking it up.

He ducked his gaze as he picked up his fork. “I just sketch really.”

She waited for him to say more but he didn’t.

“If this is your job, you probably get paid a lot to do things like this,” she said, wishing guilt didn’t crowd her chest whenever people offered to do things for her.

Growing up, she’d learned that unless she absolutely had no choice, it was easier not to ask her parents to do anything for her or on her behalf. When she needed them to step up and do things like come to parent-teacher meetings, her mom would tell Hailey she “owed her” or that she didn’t want to but she would. She didn’t need Piper’s counseling courses to know this created a panic inside her whenever she had to ask for help.