Wrapped Up in a Beau by Angelita Gill Page B

it!”
    â€œRegardless, I…I can’t get involved with my friend’s brother. Even if I wanted to, what would be the point? I’m only here for a week.”
    â€œTake him while you can, doll! Okay, I’ll stop being a nosy old goat, but I think you should throw the poor guy a bone.”
    â€œDid he ask you to vouch for him, Leo?”
    â€œNope. I swear, doll,” he added at her skeptical look. “He reminds me of myself when I was his age.” He lifted his arm and made her turn. “Except he’s got a handsome face and money.”
    Greta laughed.
    Mason came through the door, rubbing his hands together for warmth. “What’s so funny?”
    Leo spun Greta around one more time and grinned. “My terrible dancing.”
    Greta stumbled into a chair and took her breath. “He’s lying. Leo is a superb partner. Thank you, handsome. That was fun.”
    â€œAnytime.”
    Leo disappeared in the back and Mason helped her up. Her hand practically sizzled from the contact, and she rubbed it on her apron.
    He stared at her for longer than she liked. “I wish you looked that happy when I was around.”
    â€œJealous, Mr. Renclair?” she teased.
    â€œOnly a little,” he admitted in a low tone.
    Leo handed him a broom and a dustpan and without hesitation, Mason began sweeping the floor with focus and diligence. One would never know he came from a home of privilege.
    The lunch rush started shortly after that, and all three of them were too busy to make much conversation above the cheerful ruckus.
    Even though they were little harried from the mountain of orders that came in all at once, they worked very well as a team. Greta took charge at the register, making small talk with the customers. Leo whipped up the caffè lattes and smoothly sailed them down the counter while Mason caught them, placing the to-go cups in carriers.
    Greta had to endure watching Mason flirt with almost any woman, young or old, who batted eyelashes at him. Quite a few of them he knew.
    They never could avoid running into each other because of the small space. Once, she bent over to retrieve a white chocolate macadamia nut cookie, and her butt bumped his. He sent her a wicked glance as if she’d done it on purpose.
    She’d lost her balance because of some grease on the floor and found herself caught in Mason’s arms. He chuckled, teasing, “You keep finding ways for me to touch you.”
    She pushed him as though he burned her. Two women in line had exchanged looks of amusement. She straightened her apron and became frustrated when she rang up a customer for ten cappuccinos, instead of one. She could only imagine how her cheeks flamed. Mortifying. Where was the cool, poised, worldly Greta? Apparently, nowhere to be found when Mason was around, she thought sourly.
    The rush was over eventually, and it’d lasted longer than usual. It was almost two o’clock.
    â€œHoly cannoli, I need to sit down,” Leo stated as he plopped in one of the chairs. His chubby cheeks were red, face ashen, and he patted a rag to his brow.
    â€œCan I get you anything?” she asked, concerned for the older man. She poured him a glass of ice water and brought it over.
    â€œDon’t fuss over me, doll face. These old lungs need a breather.”
    Mason came from around the corner, wiping his upper lip with his sleeve. “I don’t know how you do it, Rossi. I haven’t busted my butt that hard since I worked on a farm in high school.”
    â€œ You worked on a farm?” Greta found it hard to believe.
    â€œMy grandfather insisted on it. Said nothing would make me appreciate sitting on my ass more than after getting the hell beat out of it. He was good friends with a farmer outside of town who always had more than enough humbling work for me to do. It was either work for his friend or stay home with him during the summer. Trust me, I chose the better end