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and I pull the keys out of my pocket.
    He leans toward me, and because it never crosses my mind that he would try to kiss me no matter how touchy-feely he is and with witnesses, I don’t back up fast enough and am shocked when his lips meet mine. They’re surprisingly soft. “Oh, uh . . . wow,” I say, pulling back.
    He doesn’t back up and his eyes meet mine. “Thanks for coming tonight.”
    His smoky voice makes my heart patter to life and again I’m shocked at my reaction to him.
    “Okay, see you.”
    Skye smiles at me like that was the most exciting occurrence ever. I just want to escape.

Chapter 8

    T he store doesn’t open until nine, but like clockwork my eyes pop open at six Saturday morning. I try to go back to sleep but my body won’t have it so I stare at the ceiling for a while thinking about the night before. What happened? Did Mason mean to kiss me? Had I turned toward him when he was going in for a hug or something? My brain feels the need to disassemble and then reconstruct the night in a way that makes sense.
    It comes up with two logical possibilities. One, it was an accident and he was too nice to say so. Or two, he was really friendly and kissed everyone. Now that I have some reasonable explanations, I feel better. I just hope we don’t run into each other for a while.
    After an hour of unsuccessfully trying to go back to sleep, I roll out of bed and shower before my mom takes over the bathroom. I pull on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and slide my feet into fuzzy black slippers. With wet hair I go to grab a list of orders I had left downstairs the day before so I can enter it into the computer.
    I cross-check it with the list my mom had made one more time. We still have an hour until opening so, with plenty of time to finish getting ready, I tuck the list into my pocket and head for the computer. Before I make it to the bottom step, I hear a knock on the front door. My hand immediately goes to my wet hair and my brain immediately thinks it’s Mason. This scenario doesn’t fall into either of the explanations my brain had come up with. Overly affectionate rock stars don’t show up on the doorstep the morning after. We’re not open yet so the blinds are still drawn over the glass. I don’t have to open the door.
    A second later the shop phone rings.
    Mason doesn’t have the shop phone number, does he? Would Skye have given it to him? I pick it up before my mom gets the chance to answer upstairs. “Hello, Dolls and More.”
    “A week ago someone warned me not to buy the blueberry muffins at Eddie’s, but I didn’t listen and bought them anyway. Now at odd hours I get these insatiable cravings.”
    I’m so relieved at who’s on the line that I let out a weird laugh/sigh combo then quickly clear my throat. “They’re laced with addictive substances.”
    “I believe you now.”
    I smile.
    “So are you going to let me in? It’s kind of cold out here. I’ll share.”
    My eyes dart to the door.
    “I think this muffin might even have your name on it. . . . Oh no, sorry, that’s my name.”
    “I . . .”
    “You wouldn’t want me to die of hypothermia, would you?” he says.
    “I don’t think it gets cold enough here for that.” I shuffle on my slipper-clad feet to unlock the door then hold it open for Xander.
    “Hi.” His voice echoes in the phone I’m still holding to my ear. I push the Off button.
    It’s been so long I had almost forgotten how good-looking . . . and rich he is. But it clings to him along with the cold air as he walks inside. I relock the door and turn to face him. He’s holding a brown Eddie’s bakery bag and two Styrofoam cups with lids on them. “Hot chocolate.” He lifts the cup in his right hand. “Or coffee.” He lifts the one in his left. “I only took a tiny sip out of each so it doesn’t matter to me.”
    Nice. Maybe Rich is a communicable disease. I point to his right hand. “Hot chocolate.”
    “I thought you might be a hot chocolate