I wipe the scowl off my face and feel my lips twitch. Her bright happiness and laugher are infectious. I could bask in her glow all day. "What's your name, doll?"
Do I imagine the blush that stains her pretty cheeks before she answers back with a cute little toss of her head? "Jenny."
"Jenny," I try her name out for size. "Short for Jennifer, I presume?" I ask her, raising an eyebrow of my own.
She frowns and fiddles with a piece of her hair as she answers, "Well, yes, but no one calls me Jennifer except my mom, and that's only when I'm in trouble or something."
"Oh, I bet you're trouble, Jennifer," I tell her as I take a step toward her. Her scent, something like cinnamon and apples, teases my nostrils, and I feel my blood surging within my veins.
Her face colors and her breath hitches, but she stands her ground and looks up at me as she firmly corrects me, "Jenny." Then she goes on with a shrug, "Well, I'm certainly no saint." She looks back up at me with mischievous eyes. "Not like you, Saint Nick."
I love the teasing glint sparkling in her green depths. I could engage in this playful banter with her all day.
"Make no mistake, Jennifer," I stress every syllable of her name, loving the way it rolls off my tongue. "I am no saint. Far from it."
Before she has a chance to toss back what I'm sure would be another witty retort, Dave clears his throat beside us before announcing that we should get into position. The booth is set to open soon.
"After you," I gesture for her to walk ahead of me, now even more anxious for this day to be over with so we'll be off the clock and I can learn more about this little firecracker who's going to be my helper all day.