I hadn't been expecting that question, and for some reason, it leaves me speechless for several moments.
"He was a fan of strawberry with cheesecake bits."
Duke gives me a look that says he can't quite figure that out. "So what level was he?"
"I guess technically a zero," I say, trying to avoid his gaze.
"I'm surprised the whole adding cheesecake bits doesn't boost him up a couple more levels."
"I did say the theory was subjective," I say, closing the ice cream window. "Strawberry cheesecake would normally get him to a six, but because he dumped me, he lost all the points."
Duke takes a big bite out of the ice cream, and I cringe. Sure, I'm the one selling the ice cream, but I also know what it does to my teeth to have such a cold shock in one bite.
He's chewing on the peanuts now, and he smiles at me. "I like this one. I didn't think I'd be a peanut lover in my ice cream, but you've just proved me wrong, Maggie dear. Oh, I mean just Maggie." His face goes bright red, and I'd be lying if I said that my stomach didn't do flips when I heard him call me "dear."
Maybe that's just something he does to all the ladies. I mean, the guy does carry a handkerchief, so calling someone "dear" sounds like we should be in a 1950s sitcom.
"Well, Duke, I think your level might have just shifted up to a three."
His nose wrinkles again, and he looks like he's just lost everything. "That's it?" he asks. "I try all these different flavors, and you only move me up two levels?"
"You're getting more adventurous, so we'll see what happens when we're done with the hunt."
"So once we finish with the scavenger hunt, you're going to officially declare me whatever level I'm at that time?"
"Sure," I say, going along with his playful attitude.
"And what happens if I just make up some crazy concoction and add nuts and whipped cream and maraschino cherries and sauces galore? Does that get me to a ten?"
I study his face as he takes another bite of his ice cream. I wonder why it's so important for him to know what a ten is in my book.
"You'd have to finish the entire bowl, and then we can talk," I say.
That sounds a lot more intimate than I wanted it to be, but if I try to clarify, it’ll only make things worse. The guy has wormed his way into my heart, and I’m still not sure if I’m okay with that. It’s like my brain has a blinking caution light.
"Good to know," Duke says, pointing his ice cream cone at me for a moment. "What time do you get off tonight?"
Is he trying to ask me on a date? Nah, I don't think that'll happen. Maybe just another round of finishing the tasks we were supposed to do today. I glance over at Hope, and while she's been doing much better since we had our pep talk earlier, there's still something bugging her.
"Look," I say, lowering my voice, "I don't think we can work on the scavenger hunt tonight. She's going through a lot right now with her in-laws, and I need to be there for her."
Duke frowns and says, "Oh, okay. Yeah, I'll see you in the morning then?"
"I'll try to make it.”
He grins and says, he says, “Do or do not, there is no try.” He heads to the checkout and pays. He then waves to me on his way out. "See you tomorrow, Maggie."
I wish that my stomach wouldn't twist itself into knots at the sound of that.
TWENTY-FOUR
DUKE
Okay, things are getting a lot more serious than I had originally intended. Why do I keep pressing Maggie for information associated with her ice cream theory? What kind of person asks and compares against the woman's ex?
Me, apparently. I wish I could be more subtle, but the more I'm around this woman, the more I want to know what she's thinking and how she's feeling about things. There's no way I could avoid it now. It's like every mundane decision in my brain is accompanied with the thought, "What would Maggie do?"
I should probably just cut my losses and say goodbye to the bonus. I'd completely forgotten about the pictures, and once I got home and checked my email, I noticed that I had avoided several check-in emails from my company over the week.