The Magnolia Chronicles: Adventures in Modern Dating(21)

Magnolia: I won't but thank you for the offer.





"Magnolia?"

I flattened my phone against my chest and jerked my head up. "Here. I mean, yes, I'm Magnolia. Hi," I said, blinking up at the man beside my table. He was a dark-suited dream and my words were flying away like butterflies in the breeze. The ass-out seat swivel would've been much smoother than this. "Mr. Ni—uh, no—Rob. We're calling you Rob. Right? You're Rob? If not, how about you lie and pretend you're Rob? That would be easier for all involved."

"I don't have to lie." Nodding, he pressed his lips together to swallow a laugh. They were lip-balm-model lips. He knew a thing or two about moisturizing. "I'm not sure who you were messaging or what you were talking about, but you were making the cutest faces and moving your lips like you were saying the words as you typed them. It was the best thing I've seen all day."

I stared up at him, not sure how to respond to that. How long had he been watching me? Also, was it weird that he was watching or weird that I didn't notice? Eventually, I said, "I was talking to Andy."

"Andy?" he repeated, his eyebrow arching up. "Well, he's lucky to get so much of your attention."

"She," I replied. "She. She's one of those A-N-D-Y Andys because fuck the patriarchy and their arcane gendered spelling conventions, but we work together. Sort of. Sometimes. And we're friends. I mean, we worked together first and then we became friends later. We weren't close at the start. There was a weird situation that was entirely my fault and I still stew in the horror of it all but she was just texting to ask whether I sha—" I stopped myself there and it was quite the accomplishment considering the quantity of babble sliding out of my mouth. "Not important."

To Rob's credit, he grinned at me like I was adorably amusing rather than adorably insane. "I'm sorry I'm late," he said, still standing. That suit though. It was midnight blue with a barely there pinstripe and sweeter than anything in the bakery case. Cut and draped just right across his thick thighs and beefy shoulders. Just right. "I was in the weeds all morning and then I was on the conference call from hell. Damn thing wouldn't end."

"Seems like you have your hands full," I said. "Is this a bad time? Do you want to reschedule?"

Rob ran a hand through his dark auburn hair, grinning. "Not a chance." He pointed to the empty seat. "May I? Or would you rather I stand for this?"

"Oh my god, no—I mean yes. Sit down. Please. Sit," I barked.

With a surprised laugh, he tucked himself into the chair. He was tall but normal-tall, not crouch-down-in-the-shower-tall. He had freckles and laugh lines, and those little creases between his eyebrows that suggested he was in his late thirties and spent a fair amount of time thinking. Or worrying—or both.

"Thanks," Rob said, running a hand down his madras plaid tie.

There was no rational reason for it but I loved that gesture. Loved it. A man meant business when he did that. Or that was how I preferred to interpret it.

"Have you ordered?" Rob blinked at the empty table. I shook my head. Damn, those hazel eyes of his were pretty. Golden and green like a gemstone. "No, obviously not. I haven't eaten since six this morning and I'm ready to gnaw on my suit coat. What would you like?"

He shifted toward the counter and, oh my marshmallows, the way his white dress shirt stretched over his torso was delicious. As I took in the beauty of his chest—and another perfect tie-smoothing move—two things dawned on me. One, I'd started off crazypants and he'd rolled with it like a pro. And two, what the hell did he see in me?

No, really. I was down with loving myself but Mr. Nine and I were leagues apart. He was here with his tie smoothing and lips worth biting and I needed a mop to clean up my word vomit.

"I like a sandwich here," he said, running his fingers along his stubbled jaw.

That subtle rasp was like an ASMR video. It was all I could do to hold back a sigh. "The smoked turkey."

Rob turned back toward me, his brows drawn together. That was where those lines came from. That expression. The inkling of a smile pulled at his lips and he was watching me like he couldn't look away. Or I had food stuck between my teeth. I noticed those things after I dragged my gaze away from his engraved belt buckle. RRR. Either it was his initials or the sound women made when they got his belt off. Both seemed equally likely.

"Yeah," he said. "Did I tell you that or are you a sandwich whisperer?"

"Sandwich whisperer," I replied, bobbing my head. "For sure. That's so much better than remembering that you mentioned the smoked turkey sandwich when you insisted on this place."

He tapped his pointer finger on the table twice as he nodded. "That's right," he said. "That was when you were insisting on a lunch date even though I wanted a dinner date with wait service, cloth napkins, and plenty of liquor."

"Something like that, yeah."

He cast a glance around the bakery. "And why was that, Magnolia? Do you have something against dinner or is the issue dinner with me?"

My phone continued buzzing—either Andy or any number of tiny crises in need of my attention—but I tossed it into my bag. "I have a busy schedule. I have to be scrupulous with my time. Sorry."