He narrowed his eyes. A hint of red crept into her face, covering the spray of freckles on her cheeks. She looked like a sticky-fingered, three-year-old caught raiding the candy dish. Cute.

He turned away from her, hoping to give her a chance to build up the nerve to say what she really wanted. He carried Harpy to her cage in the corner of the living room. He opened the door and lifted her to her perch. Harpy immediately assumed her favorite position; she hung upside down and began to squawk for food.

“I’m settling in just fine,” he said. “And Harpy certainly seems at home.”

“Does she always hang upside down?” Annie asked with a laugh as if relieved by the change of subject.

“Always,” he confirmed, ignoring the way her laugh made him want to laugh in return. It was deep and throaty and thoroughly provoking. “Was there anything else?”

“Actually.” She paused, and Fisher glanced over his shoulder to see her face bloom a deeper shade of red. “There was one thing.”

“Yes?” he prompted.

“I was wondering if you’d consider being my date.”

“Date?” he repeated, feeling as if she’d belted him in the solar plexus.

“You see, the thing is, I have to be in a wedding...” Her voice trailed off.

“And?”

“And I need a date,” she rushed to explain. “Now I know you just moved in, and you don’t even know me, but this might be a good way for you to meet some new people. And it won’t be a date in the technical sense. It would be more like two friends going to a wedding together.”

“Why do you need a date so badly?” he asked. The fiery color had receded from her cheeks, but her gaze was firmly fastened on the floor as if she were hoping a hole would open up and give her a swift getaway. She was obviously embarrassed, but he had to give her credit for nerve. She didn’t seem the kind to ask out a total stranger...unless she had a very good reason.

“Well, there’s this ex-boyfriend,” she began.

“Ah.” He nodded.

“He’s a nice guy, but he doesn’t seem to understand that I’ve moved on,” she explained.

“And he’ll be at the wedding,” Fisher deduced aloud, “and you think if you bring a date, he’ll realize it’s over.”

“That’s the idea,” she admitted.

“I only have one question,” he said. “Why me? Don’t you know someone else who could be your fake boyfriend?”

“Honestly?” She wrinkled her nose before answering. “No. Running the shop doesn’t give me much of a chance to socialize.”

“Really? I’d have thought you’d have to beat ‘em off with the coffeepot.”

She snorted a surprised laugh through her nose, and Fisher blinked. The woman was a snorter! Why he found this charming he had no idea. As her laughter faded she watched him with wide eyes as if awaiting a sentence. He didn’t have the heart to torture her and besides she was handing him the very thing he needed. An in.

“I’d be happy to go,” he said.

“Really?” Her eyebrows hit her hairline and then she grinned. “I don’t suppose you’d be available for the rehearsal dinner, too?”

“Uh, well, I don’t see why not,” he said.

“Okay. I’ll meet you Friday evening at six-thirty,” she said.

“Sounds fine.”

“Great.” She beamed at him as she walked backward toward the door. “Friday then.”

She stumbled over the doorframe, and Fisher leapt forward, catching her by the arm to keep her from falling.

“Oh!” She shook her head and laughed at herself. “That’s me, grace in motion.”