The Christmas Wedding Swap. Allyson Charles
her bags. He’d been distracted over his bike, but he remembered a round bottom, an obnoxious sweater, and a cute pink blush on her cheeks.
Today, she didn’t look quite so messy. Her clothes weren’t fancy: tight jeans that fit her just right and a white V-neck t-shirt. Half of her platinum blonde hair was pulled off her face, with a long trail of curls falling down to her shoulders. The way she was resting on her elbows, Luke knew the customer she was talking to was getting a nice view of her cleavage.
Luke pursed his lips. Maybe he’d been too hasty turning down her tour guide offer.
She threw her head back and laughed at something the man in front of her said, her neck arching just the way Luke liked when he—
She straightened and looked right at him. Shit. He tried to school his features. No need to be caught ogling the crazy bag lady. She nodded to her customer and made her way down the counter, stopping in front of Luke with her pad out.
“What can I get for you?” Her smile was friendly, professional, and held no hint of recognition.
Luke narrowed his eyes. What the hell? Had she hit her head when she’d fallen? Luke might not be a model, but he knew he was far from forgettable. Women came onto him all the time at his restaurant. Shit, he even got propositioned by men on occasion. Part of that might have been because of his position as head chef and owner of Le Cygne Noir. The restaurant industry had its own subculture of celebrities, fans, and groupies, and Luke Hamilton was one of its rock stars. But even before his fame, he more than held his own when it came to the fairer sex.
So when a crazy bag lady—okay, a cute crazy bag lady—acted like he was as unremarkable as last week’s blue plate special, it kind of ticked him off—and got his competitive juices flowing, making him want to wipe that feigned indifference right off her face. It had to be an act. A woman didn’t flirt with a guy one day and forget him the next.
Game on, lady.
Then he remembered she was getting married. He drew his eyebrows together. Why had she asked him out if she was engaged? Was showing strange men around town something the residents of Pineville did automatically? Michigan’s version of being neighborly?
His gaze flickered to her left hand. No ring. Running a restaurant, it was understandable that she might not wear one. And she did run this place; Luke could tell. She either owned it or managed it.
“Do you need more time to look at the menu?” she asked. “I could get you some nuts while you wait. Maybe some almonds?”
A slow smile curved his lips. So she did remember.
She raised an eyebrow and tapped her pen against her pad, bored.
Luke cleared his throat. That wasn’t the usual response he got from women. “What’s good today?” he asked, leaning in and upping the wattage on his never-fail smile. She was engaged, and his code wouldn’t let him plow in another man’s field. But he would at least charm her into a little harmless flirting or a sincere smile. Something. A coffee shop owner in Podunk, Michigan, wouldn’t be the one woman immune to his charms.
Palms flat on the counter, she edged toward him, a hint of cinnamon and vanilla coming with her. “Honey, everything I do is good.”
He chuckled. Sassy. He liked sassy.
She lifted an eyebrow, her dark brown eyes glittering under the fluorescent lights, calling him on his bullshit. She would be no man’s pushover.
“I like a woman with confidence in her work, but everyone has a specialty.” He glanced down at the menu. Solid comfort food, and all sure to clog the arteries by the time a person hit fifty. He wondered what type of oil she used back in her kitchen. “Or a recipe you’re exceptionally proud of. For a man who helped clean up your little spill yesterday, I’m sure you must have some good recommendations.”
The slightest pink flush stained her cheeks, and Luke leaned back in his seat, savoring the moment. The blonde was cute when she was flustered, and if he couldn’t get a smile, he’d be satisfied with her blush. Knocking a woman off-kilter was always a definite advantage.
Not that she acknowledged his advantage. She snorted and rolled her eyes. “You picked up a couple bags of candy. Get over yourself.”
Luke glanced to his neighbor on the right, but the man kept shoveling food into his mouth, seemingly unsurprised by the woman’s snark. Luke could never get away with talking to a customer like that at his restaurant. But maybe she was only that way with him. He had wanted to provoke a reaction.
The blonde looked across the diner. “Hey, Joe, clean your crap off the table next to you. I’ve got paying customers who want to sit down.”
Okay, then. Not only with Luke. He leaned forward. “You must not have had this restaurant for very long.” The woman was obviously in over her head, poor thing. Probably half crazy from planning her wedding. “If I could give you a piece of advice…”
Her gaze cut back to him, sharp as a razor. “Listen, buddy, there’s nothing you have to offer that I could possibly want, least of all your advice.” She tapped her pen on her pad. “Now, what are you hungry for?”
“Allison!” a harried voice called.
His blonde straightened and looked over his shoulder. “Hi, Sadie. What’s up?”
A pretty woman stepped next to him, looking as panicked as a stray mutt cornered by the dogcatcher. “When can you take a break? I really need to go over my list for the wedding. I’m so behind, but I know you’re busy. Do you have five minutes?”
Cute Bag Lady, aka Allison, nodded and pointed to a stool at the end of the counter, two customers away from Luke. “Have a seat and get out your list.”
Sadie bit her lip, looking at Luke. “It can wait until you finish with your customer.”
A snort. “He can’t decide. I’ll get back to him later.” She moved away and leaned over the counter in front of Sadie. She turned to the side to look at the notebook Sadie placed on the counter, giving Luke a superb view of her curvy backside. It almost made up for her dismissal.
He shucked his jacket and hung it on the back of his seat. He’d obviously struck a nerve when he’d reminded her of her wipe-out. Although he didn’t understand why women got so embarrassed about shit like that. As long as you didn’t turf it with a butcher knife in your hand and wind up shish kebabbed, it was all good.
Another waitress came by with a pot of steaming coffee, and Luke flipped his mug over. And almost wished he hadn’t. He grimaced. The coffee tasted like diesel. But the mug was warm, so he wrapped his hands around it and settled in, trying not to make his perusal of Allison too obvious. With a view like that, he was content to wait for his food. And he had nothing but time on his hands.
What was he going to do with himself for a week in Pineville? The two-month road trip he’d hastily planned two days ago was going to be bad enough. The thought of all that time out of the kitchen was enough to give him hives. But at least he’d be on the move, seeing something new every day, keeping busy.
Allison shifted, and Luke could see the wear on the seat of her stone-washed jeans. Not that he’d been eyeballing her ass. “That’s done, that’s done, and that will be done by the end of today,” she said, taking a pen from her friend’s hand and checking off items.
Sadie leaned back in her seat. “Oh my God. You’re a lifesaver. I really should be paying you. You’ve planned my wedding more than I have.”
“As maid of honor, that’s my job.” She reached behind the counter and grabbed a coffee pot and a couple of mugs. “Besides, you’re paying me for the cost of the food.”
“Yes, but not for your catering services,” Sadie said, exasperation in every word. “You deserve to be compensated.”
“It’s my wedding gift.” She lifted her platinum hair off her neck and flapped her hand, blowing air on her nape. “And speaking of catering,