Who did he think he was? Confucius?
“Speak English,” I tell the man.
Jace rolls his eyes.
“I mean, in my experience a woman is more likely to accept an apology if she knows you’ve done or said something you’d normally never do. Basically, you’ve done or said it specifically to make them feel better. Girls like effort.”
“So the more uncomfortable it makes me, the better the result,” I finish, understanding his meaning now.
“Basically,” Jace snorts. “Just swallow your pride and do something nice. Something girl’s like.”
Ugh.
“Like flowers?”
Jace shrugs.
“Always a good staple. If you wanna go the whole hog though, something more personal would be better. Something she likes and you don’t.”
The longer this conversation goes on, the queasier I feel. But I’m here now.
“Any suggestions?”
Immediately, I know I’m in trouble. Jace has had an idea. I can see the spark of realization on his face. Not to mention the childlike joy it’s giving him just to consider it.
Oh no…
“She likes to dance,” he says with ceremony. “She bops around the place when a good track comes on the radio.”
I already know this. Eighties music in particular. And I have a horrible feeling I know where Jace is going with this.
“The harvest dance. You should invite her.”
“I’m not going to—”
“Invite who?” Lizzie asks.
Jace and I both freeze. Neither of us had seen her arrive back at the shop. Possibly because she is half-hidden behind the giant cardboard box she’s carrying. Jace recovers faster than I do, “Caleb has something to ask you, Liz.”
Liz?
And then the bastard just darts away. Quick and light as a feather, he slips away like a frickin’ evil fairy. Now I’m left in front of a speculative Lizzie who looks infuriatingly charming with muck on her face.
“Caleb…” She speaks to me with such icy politeness, I know I’m still in the doghouse. Any barest trace of hope that I might just ride out this storm without—as Jace put it—falling on my sword, immediately dissolves.
She shifts the box awkwardly in her arms so I reach for it.
“I can take that—”
“I have it.” She shakes her head and diverts the package away. “What did you want to ask me?”
I sigh. Well, given the cold shoulder she’s giving me, I don’t imagine I have much to lose.
“The harvest festival,” I say, shoving one hand in the pocket of my jeans and the other awkwardly through my hair. “I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”
Lizzie’s surprise is evident. Apparently, she was expecting anything besides that.
“As your date?”