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.
“I love this stuff. Honestly, it’s relaxing for me. I don’t mind. It’ll take no time.” Wes polished off the rest of his salad.
He seemed genuine. “How about we trade salad for website work?” she suggested.
He grinned, put the lid back on his empty cup. “If that makes you feel better, sure. Got a laptop?”
Hailey laughed. “You want to do it now?”
He shrugged. “Why not? I can show you a couple things that’ll make it easier to update. I like the personal touch with the blog.”
She felt her cheeks heat. “Some of the stuff I write is a bit corny.”
“It’s honest.”
She arched her brows, noticing the way his lips quirked. She wasn’t writing sonnets for salads, but she did tend to babble on when she was excited about a new recipe.
“And corny?” She put her hands on her hips, waited.
Wes pursed his lips, holding her gaze. “Can it be both?”
A week ago, she thought she’d never see this man again. Now, he was making her laugh. Life was full of good surprises. She’d forgotten that for a little while.
5
Hailey bagged up the three salads—technically two with one side of chips—the surfer dude was buying, thanking him again for stopping by the shop. Slow and steady. That’s all she needed. She cleaned up the counter and went back to where Wes had taken up residence with her laptop.
“That guy was really happy you had Doritos,” Wes commented.
Hailey laughed, cleaning up the counter. “Yeah. It’s the first time I’ve had someone order a Ranch Taco Supreme minus the lettuce, peppers, beef, tomatoes, salsa, and guac.” The guy literally just wanted Doritos.