Can't Stand the Heat - Louisa Edwards [119]
Miranda gave him a keen look. “So can I take this to mean you plan to open the restaurant tonight?”
“Hell, yes. That moron, Rob, isn’t screwing me out of two nights’ service. No way. Besides, best way for everyone to get past what happened is to get back in there and start cooking.”
They fetched up at the Siren Falls Farm stand, where Paul Corlie was selling a couple of pints of tiny, jewel-like raspberries to an older lady in a garish purple cardigan. Paul’s eyes lit up when he caught sight of Adam, then widened in surprise when they slid over Miranda.
“Hey there,” he said, handing Purple Cardigan her change. “If it isn’t Adam and his little tomato. Everybody’s talking about what happened at Market last night. You look okay to me.”
“We’re good. Better than good. Paulie,” Adam said repressively, hoping to God the man would mind his manners. “This is Miranda Wake. She’s my . . .” Fuck, what was he supposed to call her? “Girlfriend” sounded way junior high, but “lover” sounded like something out of a soap opera. And “former-nemesis-turned-sweetheart” was a mouthful.
Miranda saved the awkward moment by arching one expressive brow at him before stepping up and offering her hand to Paul.
“Hi, I think we’ve met before. You probably don’t remember me, but I definitely remember the beautiful ramps you were selling.”
“There’s my smart girl.” Adam laughed. “Buttering up the produce supplier for me. Awesome.”
Paul’s eyes twinkled. “I remember you, missy, sure enough.” He clapped his bear paws together and said, “Here, try some of these cherries while you look around.”
“Thanks, we’re starving,” Miranda said, accepting the bag gratefully.
“First of the Rainiers?” Adam asked, eyeing the creamy, yellow flesh tinged with the slightest pink blush.
“Yeah, it was a warm spring. So what can I sell the two lovebirds today? Something for a romantic picnic in the park?”
“Oh, God,” Miranda moaned, her mouth full. “How about a couple more pounds of these cherries?”
“Good?” Adam grinned, reaching for the bag.
Miranda tilted it toward him reluctantly. “This is how you know I love you,” she said, “the fact that I’m sharing these cherries.”
Adam didn’t even try to hide the thrill it gave him to hear her say it like that, out loud, in public. In front of one of his oldest friends, no less. Even his first luscious bite of the fruit, sugar-tart juice exploding on his tongue, couldn’t overshadow the glow he got from Miranda.
“I’ve never experienced cherries like these,” Miranda said. “They are the pinnacle of cherrydom. The zenith. The apex. The epitome. The mmph.”
Adam covered her mouth with his hand, winking at Paul. “She turns into a thesaurus when she gets excited. Cute, huh?”
Miranda shoved him away, laughing. “I’ll show you cute if you ever do that again.”
They wandered back out into the fray. A few stalls down from Dava’s perennially jam-packed dairy stand, Miranda stopped dead in front of a tray of croissants.
“Oh. Pretty,” she said.
They were, all uniformly crescent-shaped and shiny with butter. “You want to get a couple?” he asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“I do, but you don’t have to wait for me,” Miranda said. “Go on, I’ll meet you at Dava’s. I know where it is from last time.”
Shooing him away with a laugh, Miranda turned to order their pastries. Adam snuck in a quick kiss to the side of her neck before he went, laughing and dancing away from her automatic swat.
Not into displaying herself in public, his Miranda.
Lost in thoughts of how he might persuade Miranda to display herself in private, Adam nearly flattened a man he never expected to see at the farmer’s market. After all, it was Adam’s responsibility to buy that day’s produce for the restaurant.
“Grant!”
“Adam! Where on earth have you been? No, don’t tell me, you turned off your phone and your cell phone was flushed down the toilet or something.”
Adam guiltily pictured the sleek little flip-top