Melinda Bobbin (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} _melinda_) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} finnigans_rpg, |
“Ah, yeah, wouldn’t want to risk that,” Melinda laughed. “Supposedly I’m already in danger of being on their bad side by making a cake right to their Keeper’s taste. So, how about I warn you if I change the wards and you let me decide whether I just made a mistake or not?” She knew Oliver was joking, but she had a hard time seeing how she would regret offering someone who could make her smile and with whom she obviously had chemistry with an open invitation to spend time here, in a place that she already loved.
“Yeah, I’d hoped for at least someone picking up a fraisier for their girlfriend or even just a cookie, but, not even an order for a wedding cake,” Melinda sighed dramatically, though even that didn’t keep the blush from creeping into her cheeks. “I can’t tell you,” she admitted and bit her lip, her cheeks growing even darker. “Not that I don’t want to, but if I did… well, spontaneity is just about as romantic as it can get for me, and if I told you what to do, it wouldn’t be romantic, would it?” Maybe it was because she was a planner – she had to be or her business wouldn’t have lasted as long or as successfully as it had – but nothing had swept her off her feet as genuine gestures that she hadn’t seen coming or something simple and ordinary turning extraordinary, solely because of who she was with at the time.