She's so close that I can smell her strawberry scented shampoo on the air and when we shift to let someone walk by, I place my hand on her lower back to pull her closer. Instead of pulling away, she leans just a bit closer into my side.
"Day job?" I ask.
Lilah nods. "Only job, actually. I quit the bar. Olive owns the bakery; I help her out and I'm taking over the coffee roasting."
"In that?" I ask again, sweeping my eyes over her dress and the long stretches of exposed skin. She looks at me out of the corner of her eye and I don't miss the smile that keeps creeping higher on her face.
Lilah laughs and pats her bag. "God no. I'm changing back into my jeans. I couldn't bake in this."
The image of her bending over to pull something out of the oven in that little dress grips me and I desperately try to pull up the least sexy images I can think of... Baseball. My grandmother. Hitler in a thong.
My fingers inadvertently flex against her spine as we approach the red building, the only tell my body gives at the thought of letting her go. A sign reading "Olive Branch Bakery" hangs over the door.
I contemplate tossing her over my shoulder and convincing her to spend the rest of the day with me, but I'm a gentleman to the core, so I step ahead and hold the door open for her instead. She pauses before heading inside and her lips part and then shut again like she can't decide what to say to me.
She finally settles on, "Thanks for the company."
"Anytime," I reply as she ducks inside, leaving me alone on the front porch.