Page 4 of Almost Dating
“Amber Lewis,” she said. “Got the coupons.” She held them up.
He nodded and smiled. “Good, good. Stop by anytime. The fro-yo is healthy and full of pro-bee-otics.”
“Probiotics, you mean.”
“No, no, it’s pro-bee-otics.”
“Barry, right?”
He smiled again, and laugh lines formed around his eyes. “That’s right.”
She hated to bust his happy little bubble, but the man couldn’t even pronounce what he was advertising. “You’re mispronouncing probiotics. Look it up. You’ll see.”
He cocked his head. “Well, no one’s ever said anything before. I’ve been running the shop for a year now.”
She grimaced. “Sorry to bear bad tidings. Speaking of which, don’t slip any more coupons under my door. Our building has a no-soliciting policy.”
“Oh, I wasn’t soliciting. I only gave them to you.”
“To me? Why?”
“I thought maybe you’d like some fro-yo.”
“I like ice cream.”
“But you haven’t tried mine yet, have you?” His eyes met hers, warm and friendly. “I definitely would’ve remembered you coming into the shop.”
She slipped into flirty mode easily. “Oh, really? Why is that?”
“Because you’re so…I mean—” He gestured to her hair. “Who could miss those pink streaks?”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder, enjoying messing with him. He was flustered and becoming an interesting shade of pink himself. “What do you think of a girl with pink streaks?”
He straightened. “Oh, well…I think she’s either an artist or…mutter, mutter, mutter.”
“Didn’t catch the end of that sentence.”
“Er, into some pretty funky stuff.”
She jutted out a hip. “Funky as in…”
He stared at her hip, then his gaze traveled to the floor. “Er…”
She was suddenly annoyed. “What?”
“I’d rather not say.” He shook his head. “I was wrong. Very wrong.”
“What? Prostitute? Druggie?”
He waved his hand. “No, no. Nothing like that.” His eyes told a different story.
She lifted her chin. “I’m a watercolor artist.”
He nodded. “Yes, I would’ve guessed that right away about you. Artist. For sure.”
She took a step back. “Well, nice to meet you, Barry.”
“Wait! Can I see your art?”
