“No, it doesn’t. This way, the patrons see the display first. They’re more liable to make purchases based on products that catch their eyes right away. They can see the cakes, cookies, and donuts before they even get to the counter to place their order, mouth already watering. It might be a few more steps for me to deliver baked goods to the case, but it’s better for the consumers.” By the time I finish my spiel, I’m breathing hard. What is it about Jasper Kohlmann that elevates my blood pressure and gets me all riled up?
He seems caught off guard by my little outburst, but I can tell he’s considering it. His head cocks to the side ever so slightly and he nibbles on his bottom lip in contemplation. My eyes zero in instantly on the lip action, and my legs squeeze together to try to alleviate the sudden ache. “I can see your point,” he concedes, his eyes focused on the pile of cases, shelves, and counters.
It’s dead silent for several heartbeats before Jameson busts out laughing. He faces his friend, biggest shit-eating grin on his scruffy face I’ve ever seen, and asks, “Did you just admit you’re wrong?”
“No,” Jasper states quickly. “My plan is the most logical.”
His friend just nods, laughing his ass off. “Sure, Jasp.”
The other one, Isaac, turns to me and smiles. “I agree with your way of thinking,” he whispers, keeping his voice down, probably so Jasper doesn’t hear him.
“Are we gonna move this stuff or what?” Jasper asks, ignoring the razzing from his friends and heading for the display case.
The guys discuss the best way to move it without scratching the floor before they get into position. Jameson takes one side, pulling, while Isaac and Jasper get behind it and prepare to push. Jasper looks over at my brother. “You make sure you guide us, okay?”
“Yeah, definitely!” my brother proclaims, eager to help any way he can.
The case glides across the floor, the men moving it barely breaking a sweat. I don’t even have to jump in to make sure it’s where I want it. My brother is on it, knowing the exact place I envision its position.
As soon as it’s set, they head for the counter. It’s bigger, more awkward, and will probably cause a little more strain than the other piece. It does, and I instantly feel guilty at how hard they’re working on my behalf. Good thing I baked extra goodies last night when I couldn’t sleep to make up for their help today.
When it’s in place—to never be moved again, that’s for sure—all three lean back against it and sigh. “Damn, that’s heavier than it looks,” Isaac groans.
“It took five guys to get it off their trailer,” Dustin informs.
I move quickly, heading back to the kitchen to retrieve bottles of water from the fridge and the basket of goodies. When I return, my arms are full, and Jasper rapidly jumps to help me. As he takes two bottles from under my right arm, he brushes his fingers across my chest unintentionally. Well, I think it’s accidental. The wave of lust streaking through my blood is overshadowed by the shock and flash of desire he tries to hide in those brown eyes.
“Thank you,” he replies smoothly, handing the bottles off to his friends. He even takes a fourth one to my brother.
“Oh, I made goodies too,” I state, setting the basket on the newly positioned countertop.
“Goodies?” Isaac asks, the first to pull the cloth back to see what’s inside. “Holy mother of sweetness.”
I chuckle as Jameson practically pushes Isaac out of the way, reaching for a chocolate iced éclair. One bite in and he’s moaning in pleasure. “Marry me, Lyndee. Marry me right now.”
While Isaac chuckles and I smile at the unusual—but not my first—marriage proposal, Jasper seems to have the opposite reaction. He reaches over and smacks Jameson in the back of the head. “Quit joking around,” he practically growls at his friend.
Jameson, seeming a touch amused, just holds up his treat. “Who’s joking? Have you tried one of these?” he asks, waving the éclair under Jasper’s nose.
“No.” He arches an eyebrow at Jameson, who only seems to find humor in the situation.
“Well, you’re due,” the tattooed man says, practically shoving the éclair in Jasper’s mouth.
“What the hell,” he grumbles, reaching for a napkin to wipe the smashed chocolate, pastry, and cream filling from his face. I do catch the slip of his tongue sneaking out and licking the treat off his lips.
Apparently, Jameson saw it too. “See? Good.”
“Not bad,” Jasper concedes, making me laugh when he appears none too happy about his admission.
“You’ll have to get in line though. I’ve already called first dibs.”
I should be offended, but to be honest, I’m completely amused by their interaction, and I know Jameson isn’t serious about his proposal. It’s the sugar talking.
“I need to get back to the restaurant,” Jasper states, grabbing his water bottle and heading for the back door.
“Thanks for your help,” I holler just as the door shuts a little harder than normal. My wide eyes fly to Isaac and Jameson, both on their second pastry. “Is he okay?”
A look is exchanged between them, one I can’t decipher. “He’s fine,” Isaac assures me, finishing off his second pastry. “These are amazing. I think you’re going to do great here.” He waves his hand around, referring to my location.
“Thank you,” I whisper, worry mixing with the sense of pride I always feel when I think about this undertaking. “And those are all for you. Take them back with you.”
“We could share them with Walker,” Isaac says to Jameson.
“Fuck Walker. He didn’t help, he gets nothing,” Jameson replies gruffly, though I can tell he’s joking. He gives me a sheepish grin. “Sorry about the language.”
I wave him off. “No worries. I’ve heard them all and use them frequently.”
He gives me a smile in return. “Then we’ll get along just fine.”
I laugh.
Dustin asks Isaac and Jameson about baseball—he’s happy to hear Jameson watches and roots for the Reds—and the restaurant. Before I know it, they’ve been here another thirty minutes, just hanging out and chatting, sharing information about their business and those around us.
“We should head back,” Isaac finally says, wiping his hands on a napkin.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help. Truly. I don’t know what I would have done to move those pieces.”
Jameson reaches for the basket that’s several pastries lighter than it was when I brought it here. “Anytime. You need anything, just let us know.” He gives me a big grin. “And thanks for these. I might just hide them, so I don’t have to share.”
“Here,” Isaac says, handing me a business card. “My cell is on the front, but I added Jameson’s, Walker’s, and Jasper’s to the back. Call anytime.”
“Oh,” I start, surprised by their generosity. “Here, let me give you mine.” I jot it down on one of my new cards, the ones I just had printed last weekend. “Again, thank you so much.”
“You’ll be seeing us often, Lyndee. Welcome to the neighborhood,” Jameson says.