Page 46 of Only for the Season

Jeremy clears his throat. “Actually…”

When he doesn’t finish, I lift my head and meet his gaze. “Actually?”

“I wanted to invite you to dinner.”

“Wanted to or still do?”

He smiles and my knees go weak when those dimples make an appearance. Somewhere I can hear an alarm shouting danger but I ignore it. I have a lot of experience in ignoring alarms.

“Still do.” He motions to the table littered with cookies and trays and mixing bowls. “You could use a break. You work too hard.”

I snort. “Pot meet kettle.”

“I’m admitting I could use a break. What about you?”

Those light brown eyes focus on me and I can’t say no. Let’s face it. I’d have an easier time evading a Kraken than saying no to Jeremy Holland.

“Fine.” He chuckles. “What?”

“I’m not used to women reluctantly saying yes to a dinner invitation with me.”

I scowl. “I’m not most women.”

I have no interest in chasing Jeremy for his money. He can keep it. Money only causes problems. Witness what assholes my parents have grown into since their little girl didn’t become the famous pastry chef they expected her to after spending a ‘fortune’ on culinary school.

“I’ll pick you up at six at your place.”

Panic grips me. No way, no how is Jeremy the billionaire picking me up at my place, where he will discover how dreary and depressing my living accommodations are.

“I’ll meet you here at six.”

He contemplates me for a long moment before agreeing. “Okay. But I’m driving.”

Joke’s on him. There’s no need to drive. All the restaurants in Smuggler’s Rest are within walking distance of my bakery.

The rest of the day flies by. Before I know it, it’s five minutes to six and I’m standing in the kitchen fiddling with my sleeves.

I shouldn’t have worn this sweater dress. I was wearing it the other day when I went caroling.AndJeremy saw me in it.

But I didn’t have any other outfit that wasn’t stained or meant for the summer. It’s not as if I’m used to having dinner with a handsome billionaire in the winter. Or any other time of the year, for that matter.

The door opens and Jeremy strides in wearing one of those fancy suits I saw hanging in his apartment. Crap on a pirate’s moonshine. I am seriously underdressed. Maybe we should call this whole thing off.

“Is this a date?” I blurt out instead.Way to go, Parker. Super smooth operator.

He grins as he leans over to kiss my cheek. “It’s whatever you want it to be.”

“Whatever I want it to be?” I tap my chin. “The possibilities are endless.”

“But you should know I don’t do long-term relationships.”

I study his face. His brown eyes are cold, and his jaw is set. There’s a story there but I don’t think I’ll be hearing it.

“Gotcha. Scrooge doesn’t do relationships.”

It’s not as if Mr. Billionaire Tech Developer is going to fall in love with little old me and give up his glamorous life in California for Smuggler’s Hideaway anyway.

“I will get you to stop calling me Scrooge,” he grumbles.