“What?” I ask, in a daze.
“A juice . . . come sit down with me for a second.”
“Oh . . . yeah . . . sure,” I say, stumbling over my words. I wasn’t expecting her to say that. Hell, what was I expecting her to say?
Kiss me?
I’ve lost my ever-loving mind.
I blame the lack of sleep.
Together we walk down to the dining area, where there are some juice pitchers sitting out next to the dry muffins.
“Let me get the drinks this time,” I say, making Larkin smirk as I internally shake off any residual awkwardness. “What do you want?”
“Surprise me. I’ll grab us a table.”
Feeling better already, I take two glasses and fill them halfway up with apple juice and then top the rest off with cranberry. I bring the glasses over to Larkin and set hers down in front of her. “Cranberry-apple, mixed by yours truly.”
“Now that’s first-class service.” She takes a drink, and I sit down across from her. “So, you have your brunch with your family today—are you apprehensive?”
“A little apprehensive. I’m hoping Palmer and Cooper will show up with open minds, but after what happened with Palmer yesterday, I’m going to guess that won’t be the case.”
“Maybe you start off with an apology, set the expectations so they know you want to cooperate, not dictate, which we know is something you tend to do when it comes to your siblings.”
“You think I dictate?”
She grins while taking a sip of her drink. “You’ve copied me on every email you’ve sent them. I’ve seen your responses. Although they’re well thought out and even-keeled, they do come across as dictating. You let them know exactly what’s going to happen, end of story.”
“That’s only because they can’t seem to agree on anything, so I cut off the bickering before it can go any further.”
Larkin reaches out and places her hand on mine. “Just go in with an open heart, okay?”
I stare down at her hand and then back up into her eyes. “Okay,” I answer, feeling a bout of nerves hit me all at once. “What . . . uh, what do you have planned for today besides a run?”
“Changing the subject—how Ford of you.”
I laugh while she removes her hand and finishes off her juice. “I’m going to spend a little time with Beau. I believe we’re going into Seattle for dinner. There’s this pierogi place he was telling me about that I really want to try.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Also catching up on some work that I pushed aside yesterday. I plan on going to the coffee shop to do it. You know”—she leans in—“to get away from all the flowers for a second.”
“Do you get dizzy in your room?”
“No.” She chuckles.
I lean back, feeling better. “You mean you’re not playing the soundtrack to My Fair Lady, clutching flowers to your chest, and spinning around your room?”
“Do you know how much money I’d give to see you do that?”
“Let me guess, your fourth-quarter bonus?”
“And so much more.” She stands from her chair, and I do as well. We take our empty glasses to the small tray next to the trash and then we walk out of the bed-and-breakfast together. “Thanks for stopping by to check on me.” She nudges my shoulder. “That’s what makes you a good boss.”
“Thanks for being understanding, and I’m sorry again.”
“You don’t need to apologize, Ford.” She squeezes my arm. “We’re cool.” She winks and then takes off. Looking over her shoulder, she calls out, “Have a good day.”
I wave and watch as she jogs down the street, her ponytail swishing back and forth across her shoulders.
Hell.
Hands in my pockets, I turn my back and, with a deep breath, head to my parents’ house.
“Mom, these pancakes are amazing,” I say, taking another helping of two.
“That’s right, you eat up.” Mom’s expression is far too satisfied as she watches me scarf down the breakfast she insisted upon making everyone. “Much better than that bed-and-breakfast, right?”
“Hell of a lot better.”
“So, does that mean you’re going to change your mind and come stay at the house with Larkin?”
“No. Nice try, though.”
Palmer stumbles into the kitchen, her hair a wreck, an oversize T-shirt hanging over her torso, and baggy flannel pants topping off the look. “Coffee,” she mutters, searching for a mug.