Page 48 of Not That Ridiculous

“Would you like a recommendation? Try the apple Danish.”

He shook his head again as he straightened. “I’m in the mood for a little treat myself today. I think I want a nice bun. Make that two. I’ve gone off muffins. I want two tight little buns.”

I froze.No. Not heavy-handed innuendo and his appalling dirty talk. Not in my coffee shop.

His expression said yes. Innuendo and dirty talk incoming.

As did his gestures.

When he saidmuffins, he’d lifted his hands and held them out in front of him like he was honking a pair of boobs. When he saidbuns, he very deliberately rotated his hands to palms up.

Presumably that was him holding a butt.

His long fingers flexed.

Presumably that was him squeezing the butt.

I swallowed.

“Right. Well. I’ve got cinnamon and Belgian.” I pointed at them in turn and raised my eyebrows in what I hoped looked like impatience and not panic. “One of each?”

“Hmm. Which is the roundest?”

“The…?”

“Roundest. Like, which would you say is fuller?”

“Which bun isfuller?”

“Yeah.”

I stared at him, then pointed at the Belgian bun. “That one.”

He considered it. “You’re right. It’s definitely rounder, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, I’d better have two cinnamon buns, then. Turns out I like flat little buns these days. Serve me up a couple of those, please.”

I held his gaze.

“Spread them out nicely on the plate for me, would you?”

Oh my god.

“Can’t wait to get my mouth on them.”

This was terrible.

“Bet they taste good.”

Terrible was in the rearview. This was appalling.

“Gonna take my time eating them.”

He hadn’t blinked once. He hadn’t changed his tone of voice at all.

He was standing right there in the middle of my coffee shop, talking about doing things to my arse.

---