Page 32 of It's a Brewtiful Day
He started moving his hands from knee to knee in some bizarre dance movement. Watching him move was seriously cute. He was uninhibited. What a treat.
“They’re old, dried up, and they stick to my teeth and cause cavities. They’re super awful and ruin good baking.”
“Do you like wine?” he asked as a slow, teasing smirk spread across his face.
“Who doesn’t?” I’ve never passed up a glass. Or a bottle. Red or white, it didn’t matter, although rosé was my favourite.
“Those are raisins.”
“No, they are not.” I put my hand up in a stop position. “Those are juicy grapes ripped from the vine in their prime before the sun damages them and turns them into wrinkled versions of their former selves.”
“Wow, you really don’t like raisins.”
“Nope! An ex-boyfriend used to hide them in my favourite baked goods like chocolate chip cookies, brownies, and butter tarts. It was awful. He knew my distaste for them but he didn’t care. He thought it was funny. However, after the second attempt to sneak them in, I dropped him like a hot potato. No reason to hang out with someone who tries to trick you into eating something you don’t like.”
Elliot stood straighter and pushed his shoulders back. “That guy sounds like a jerk.”
“Right? What a tool.”
“Not all guys are like that—deceptive, I mean.”
“Oh?” That hadn’t been my experience, but looking at Elliot, like really looking at him, I was truly getting the sense that he wasn’t like all guys. That, and he was really rubbed wrong that I viewed them all the same.
I assessed the snacks I had put on the tray. “Think this will do for now. Are you wanting anything?”
His eyes widened, he tipped forward slightly, and his jaw dropped. “Um, I…”
I pushed against his arm with my hand, wanting this giddy feeling building in my gut to last. It was new, but I was rather enjoying it. “I’m only kidding. I’ll share this with you, but I’ll have you know, I’m not one of those girls who’s afraid to eat. If I’m hungry, I will devour without abandon.”
“Wow.” There was a decent amount of surprise weighing on that one word. “Fair enough. I like a woman who knows what she wants.” He pushed against me and held his stance for a heartbeat longer than a friendly nudge.
I stared at him slack-jawed.
“Guess I really shouldn’t paint all women with the same brush, eh?”
“I won’t if you won’t.”
He nodded. “It’s a deal.”
Blinking myself back into the reality we were in, and not the white fluffy clouds my heart was currently floating in, I lifted the tray. “Anything else we should add?”
“I think we’re set for a bit.” Twisting his phone, the light lit a path for us, and we followed the beam back into the main area.
“Comfy chairs or the stool by the window?”
Elliot rocked back and forth on his feet while he contemplated his decision. “Well, if we’re at the window, we’ll be able to see if anyone walks by, but the chairs are way more comfortable to sit in.”
“I have an idea. Hold this, please.” I handed him the tray loaded up like a five-year-old’s dream supper. “I’m going to rearrange your store, but don’t worry, it can all be put back.”
I dragged a four-person table off to the side of the room nearest Tiger’s Tail consignment, making enough noise to alert anyone walking by that we were trapped inside. As I stacked the chairs beside the wall with much clatter and clanking, Elliot moved more of the chairs out of the way too. Needing a bit more space, we pushed another table up to the first one and stacked another grouping of chairs.
“Not bad.” I surveyed my rearrangement. My vision had grown accustomed to the muted darkness, and as we stood nearer the window, it was brighter. However, there was still no power and the clouds hovered overhead, blocking out any and all stars.
“Yeah, I see what you’re getting at.” Elliot grabbed two stools and set them beside the wall, and I did the same until all the stools were out of the way.
We dragged the comfy wingback chairs closer to the window, surely scratching up the floor from the squealing and squeaking if the metal legs made against the hardwood floors. Dang, those chairs were heavy. The bar table was at eye level as we sat in the chairs, but at least, if there was any kind of movement beyond the window on the sidewalk, we’d be able to see it. It was going to have to do.
I high-fived him. “Thank you, this looks…”