Close to You

phone and looked through her address book for a
number she hadn’t called in ages.
    “ Posh Hair Salon. Leave a
message with your name and number and we’ll return your call as
soon as possible,” the voicemail instructed.
    “ I’d like to schedule an
appointment for a haircut.” Margaret looked at herself in the
mirror again. Money be damned—she was doing this right, even if it
meant eating tuna for a month. “And a color. As soon as
possible.”
     
     

Chapter Ten
     
    His mom opened the door before Treat
even got close enough to knock. “Come in,” she said, taking his arm
and pulling him into her teashop.
    He watched her look both ways down the
street before closing the door and locking it. Strange. “Are we
being watched?”
    “ Don’t be
silly.”
    “ Wait a second.” He looked
her up and down, noting the yoga pants and the hoodie. She looked
younger and more relaxed—not like his mother at all. If it weren’t
for the ever-present strand of pearls around her neck he would have
been worried. “Who are you, and what have you done with my
mother?”
    She gave him a prim look. “You know I
go for a walk in the morning.”
    “ Yes, then you go home and
immediately get dressed.” He frowned. “Seriously, Mom. Is something
wrong?”
    “ Of course not.”
    The way her gaze darted away from his
did little to reassure him. But if she didn’t want to confide in
him, what could he do? “So why did you want to see me this morning?
Is your sink acting up?”
    “ I wanted to ask you about
making space for an event.”
    “ What sort of
event?”
    She touched her necklace. “I had
someone inquire about a speaking engagement here.”
    “ How large of an event is
it?”
    “ I’d like to fit as many
people as possible.” She gestured him to follow. “I thought of
putting a podium in front, and I’d like to keep a number of the
tables, but I may need to shift this wall.”
    He looked at the half wall that
divided the front from the back. “That’s going to cost you. The
alteration itself won’t be that bad, but you’re looking at having
to close for a few days. The event is worth the
expense?”
    “ Yes,” she said without
hesitation.
    “ I’ll come back later and
take measurements. Maybe I can come up with something that’ll be
less invasive.”
    “ Thank you, Treat.” She
took a deep breath. “Now I need you to go to Grounds for
Thought.”
    The request caught him by surprise. He
faced her, suspicious. “Why?”
    “ I want you to see how
their business is doing and—”
    “ No.” Crossing his arms, he
shook his head. “I will not spy for you.”
    She stiffened indignantly. “It’s not
spying.”
    “ What is it
then?”
    “ Research.”
    “ You’re going to have to do
your own research.” The only research he was interested in
conducting at Grounds for Thought involved its gorgeous owner, and
he had no intention of reporting that back to his mother. He kissed
her cheek. “I’ll come back after work later to take
measurements.”
    “ Treat—”
    “ I love you,
Mom.”
    That silenced her into a frown. Then
she said, “You’re just saying that to distract me.”
    “ Is it working?”
    She gave him the look that
she’d been giving him for thirty-four years—the one that said he
was cute but not that cute.
    He grinned. “See you later,
Mom.”
    Pecking her cheek again, he let
himself out of the store and walked down the street toward his
truck. He’d parked around the corner from Grounds for Thought.
Planning ahead. He just hoped his mom didn’t see him walk into the
café.
    The sneaking around was insane. He
shook his head at himself. But he didn’t want Margaret to think
that he was doing her bidding, and he didn’t want to answer any
questions. Not yet. Not before he understood what was going on
between Eve and him.
    Because something was definitely going
on.
    He searched for Eve through
the window. She looked up at that same moment, and the smile that
lit her face made him want. He wanted her, her lips, her body naked and
writhing under his.
    Pushing open the door, he walked
straight to her.
    She leaned across the counter, her
chin on her hands. “We have to stop meeting like this.”
    He lifted a brow. “How would you like
to meet?”
    The older woman who worked as her
barista chortled and, with shooting a knowing look at Eve, made
herself scarce.
    Eve cleared her throat and returned
her attention to him. “Mocha? Croissant?”
    He lowered his voice.