That's Amore! - Janelle Denison [1]
"Ahem."
Daisy whirled around, hearing a low, masculine throat-clearing that she seriously doubted had come from her cousin.
It hadn't. A guy with light brown hair, twinkling brown eyes and a familiar brown uniform stood in the doorway. Oh, great. A new package delivery guy. An adorably cute one.
She closed her eyes and swore mentally. Wondering just how much he'd overheard and wondering if her face had reached candy apple red yet, or was still in the cotton candy pink stage, she managed to mutter, "Uh, hi."
"Hi," he replied, looking amused. Then he added, "For the record, I have never carried a mirror in my life. And my measuring tape is strictly for the packages I pick up."
Bursting into laughter, Trudy said, "Well, I've got something to do." She sauntered out of the mail-room, leaving Daisy alone with the laughing stranger.
Something to do? Yeah. Right. She had to sit out in the front office and giggle over how stupid Daisy had just made herself look in front of this incredibly cute guy.
"I'm Neil," he finally said.
Neil the … Neanderthal? Neil the … not-so-bad?
Stop it, she reminded herself. One heartbreak a month is enough for anyone.
"Believe it or not," he added, "I have, on occasion, been called a nice guy. A nice, hard-working, unattached guy."
Man, he had dimples. Genuine, lose-yourself-in-them dimples. Then the unattached part sunk in and her heart skipped a beat. Because there'd been no denying the way he'd said the word—almost in invitation.
"So should I just turn around and leave now and let you pretend nice guys are like leprechauns—nonexistent? Or do you want to tell me your name?"
"I'm busy," she said, trying to keep her tone businesslike and her eyes averted. Because if she looked at him again, she'd probably start to notice the very nice way his brown hair curled a little behind his ears. Or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Or the great butt in those silly brown shorts.
"Okay, busy," he said, sounding a little disappointed, though not offended. "What do you have for me?"
What did she have? A raging case of pathetic-woman-itis. And the longer he stood here, filling up the air with all his man-stuff, the worse off she'd be. She cleared her throat, forcing her attention to her work. "Three packages."
"They all ready?"
She nodded, then realized they weren't. Not entirely. She still held the pre-printed labels in her hand. Squatting down, she quickly slapped one on each package. "Now they are," she said. "So, uh, feel free to, you know, go."
The smile never faded from Neil-the-nearly-perfect's face as he wheeled his hand-cart over, stacked the boxes on it, and pushed them toward the door. Just before exiting, he said, "Maybe next time, when you're not so busy, you'll actually tell me your name." Suddenly looking more serious—tender almost—he added, "I think I'd very much like to hear you say it."
Then he walked out of the room, leaving her standing there alone, wide-eyed and a little dazed.
"It's Daisy," she whispered, knowing he was well out of earshot.
Though his smile and great looks were the first things she'd noticed, for some reason, now that he was gone, she couldn't get her mind off that gentle, almost romantic way he'd said he wanted to hear her name. As if he hadn't just been flirting. As if he wanted a chance to prove he was the kind of nice guy she'd proclaimed didn't exist.
If only she hadn't been so defensive, so embarrassed about what he'd overheard, she might actually have allowed herself a chance to talk to a down-to-earth man who'd been nothing but nice to her. Neil the nice.
Stupid. She'd been stupid and distracted, rushing around like an idiot to get him to hurry up and leave, when now, not too much later, she wished he'd stayed a little longer.
"Oh, God,"