by J. L. Berg
Reaching out, I pulled his hand into mine. “Yesterday, you said trust had to be earned before it was given, so I get that maybe you’re not there with me yet.”
His eyes widened just ever so slightly.
“And perhaps your reasons for being distrustful are different than mine, but they’re still valid.”
“I do trust you,” he urged. “More than I’ve trusted another in a long time. But I’ve never been one to open up, and I’m sorry if that makes you feel like you don’t know the person sitting in front of you. Keep asking me questions, Elle. I’ll try to stop dodging them.”
Smiling, I rubbed my thumb over his calloused knuckles. “Deal.”
“Now, where can I find a picture of young Eloise Woods in this thing?” he asked, snatching the yearbook off the bed before I had the chance to.
“No! Don’t you dare!”
He shook his head, contorting his body away from mine so I couldn’t get to the dreaded book. “Quid pro quo!”
“I don’t think that phrase works in this situation.” I laughed before reaching his hands. “Gimme!”
“Nope.” He held out his hand, and I surrendered, settling back against my pillows. “You got to see my embarrassing photo, and now I want to see yours.”
As he held the book out in front of him, his eyes were bright and full of mischievous energy. “Now, let’s see. Where are you?”
He made a big show of thumbing through each page of the sophomore section until finally…
“Aha! There you are. Aww, look at that haircut!”
“Let me see!” I said, snagging the book from his hands. I turned it around, searching the page until I found my resemblance snuggled tightly between super-popular Harry Waterman and brace-face Melanie Zuckerman. “Oh, man. Those bangs! What was I thinking?”
He chuckled. “They’re not that bad. Check out that poor kid,” he said, pointing to the geeky-looking guy two rows up with the haircut that looked like a throwback from the ’80s.
“Oh, yeah.” I laughed, wondering whatever had happened to that kid. “That’s bad. At least my mom didn’t use a bowl to cut mine.”
“No, and it all eventually grew back.”
The way he’d said it had me eyeing him because it was almost as if he was remembering it rather than just stating a fact.
I tried to think back to those carefree good old days when I had been the lucky girl dating the quarterback. Where was he in all those memories? I had brief flashes of him—Reed yelling at him to go away, a few conversations here and there—but he still remained this sort of ghost—there, but not really.
“What was high school like for you?” I asked, watching his eyes linger on my photo.
“Typical,” he answered before catching himself. He met my gaze and took a moment before answering again, “Not great.”
It wasn’t a detailed answer, but it was honest.
And it was a start.
“I have more memories of you when we were younger,” I told him. “That year you guys lived up the street, it was the only time I remember you and Reed together a lot.”
He smiled fondly. “That’s only because we were competing for your attention.”
“What? But you were in high school! I was just a dorky seventh-grader.
“It’s true.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Although, if you’d had this haircut, things might have been different.”
Laughing, I pushed playfully at him. “Reed never told me that.”
His expression darkened ever so slightly. “Doesn’t surprise me.”
I wanted to ask him what he meant by that or if they had both competed for my attention, why he’d stopped, but he beat me with a question of his own.
“Do you have plans tonight?”
“Do you count binge-watching and leftovers as plans?” I chided.
“Well, I mean, I’ve never actually Netflix and chilled, but I’m definitely game if you are.”
His sly smile almost had me shouting, Okay! and running downstairs, wild morning hair be damned, but I reined it in.
“What do you have in mind? For your plans?” I asked, desperately trying to ignore the slight crack in my voice as I stared deep into his hypnotic eyes.
“Dinner,” he explained. “But this time, I want to take you out.”
I swallowed hard. “Like, on a date?”
“Is that okay?”
Nodding, I smiled. “Yeah, I guess I just realized we hadn’t actually been on one—an actual date, that is.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “We’ve done things a little backward.”
“If backward means becoming semi-related, then coworkers, and finally nursemaids, sure, backward works.”
He grinned. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do. And speaking of nursemaid, how are you feeling? You look better.”
My hand rose to his forehead, but he grabbed it before it got there, pulling it to his lips instead. My stomach sort of flip-flopped as I watched him tenderly kiss each knuckle. It was sexy as hell.
Netflix and chill? I could go for that…
Who needed dinner? Or a date?
We could just go straight to…
“Shit, it’s late,” Sawyer said, jumping from the bed so fast that you would have thought I’d just announced I had herpes.
“What?”
“I thought it was seven when I came up here to wake you, but it’s… crap, it’s almost eight thirty. That clock on your DVD player is wrong.”
If eyes could bug out of a head, mine would have at that moment.
“Shit!” I echoed his sentiment, realizing the store had to be opened in exactly thirty minutes.
“You go get ready. I’ll run home and change. I can make it. Promise.”
“Okay,” I said, almost stunned. I’d forgotten about the store.
When have I ever forgotten about the store?
As he sensed my mini panic, Sawyer’s hands cradled my face. “I won’t be late.”
I nodded. It was all I could do.
I didn’t ask if he knew how to get in.
He’d find the keys downstairs, I was sure.
I didn’t even check to see if he knew about the tricky lock or where the lights were or if I’d even shown him how to flip on the register.
I just let him go.
Shuffling into the hallway, I headed into the bathroom, still decorated in the same seashell design from my teens. Stripping my clothes off, I stepped into the shower, not bothering to wait for the water to warm, and as I stood there, I thought about the store and all the struggles my parents had endured to keep that place afloat.
To keep the doors open day after day.
This had all been so much easier when it wasn’t mine. When I was just the daughter helping out my aging parents. When the responsibility wasn’t mine alone.
But now, everything felt bigger. There was no one to catch me when I made a mistake. No one to run the place but me. I wasn’t the errand girl anymore, just there to help out my mom. I was the boss, and I had to stop acting like I wasn’t.
The woman from this morning needed a wake-up call, and I was about to give her one.
Feeling fired up, I was ready in a flash.
With a new outlook and a desire not to fail, I stepped into the store that morning with a plan to shake things up.
Sawyer wasn’t going to know what hit him.
“See, I told you I’d get the store open on time,” he boasted as I shed my coat and walked toward the register. “Made it here just in the nick of time. Although we might want to plan for a late dinner, so I have a chance to shower.”
Giving him a once-over, I shook my head. “Only you could look that good with so little effort.”
He laughed. “Why do you say it like that?”
“Because it’s annoying! Your hair isn’t brushed. Your shirt is faded and probably from another decade, and yet somehow, you look like God’s gift to women while I have to pile on a pound of concealer to cover my gia
nt eye bags!”
Looking rather proud of himself, he sashayed forward, wrapping an arm around my waist. “I’m going to ignore the fact that you insulted yourself on the account of the fact that you’re sleep-deprived and focus on that whole part about me being God’s gift to women. Can you elaborate a little?”
Rolling my eyes but loving the feel of him so close, I ran my fingers down his arm. “I don’t think you need any encouragement.”
“Definitely not when you’re around.”
The familiar ding of the chimes had us instantly splitting apart like horny teenagers as I tried to act nonchalant, turning my attention toward a set of antique barstools.
“Am I interrupting?” Candace’s voice was high-pitched, which wasn’t abnormal but the tone told me she’d definitely caught us.
Pivoting around, I saw her grinning from ear to ear like a loon.
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” he countered.
I gave him the evil eye before stepping forward to greet Candace. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“Of course. I was honored you thought of me.”
I must have piqued Sawyer’s interest because rather than make himself busy, he took a seat in his wingback chair, intent on observing our meeting.
“What are you doing?” I asked, giving him a keen stare.
“Being nosy.” He shrugged.
Cadence and I gave each other an amused look and followed his example, shrugging in turn.
“I guess he’s honest at least,” she replied.
“I would have just told him anyway. Plus, he might have some good input.”
“Some?” he barked.
“You don’t even know what we’re talking about,” I countered, giving him a side-eye.
Putting the palms of his hands behind his head, he let out a heavy sigh. “I always have good input, no matter what the subject.”
I really wanted to argue with him, but honestly, he wasn’t half-bad at the advice-giving. The taking of it however—that he needed to work on.
“Okay, so here’s what’s going on. I’ve had this store for a month or so now, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a pretty terrible business owner.”
Both of them began to protest. At once.
I held up my finger to silence them. “Nope. No. Don’t. I’m not looking for encouragement or a rebuttal. I’m just stating a simple fact. When this was my parents’ place and I was strictly an employee, I was good at what I did. I could knock off a to-do list like a boss. But now, I am the actual boss, and it’s freaking hard. I’ve realized I suck at things like marketing and sales. I don’t know what makes a person buy one thing over another. I don’t know how to solicit customers, and if I don’t do something to change all of that, this place is going to fail on my watch.”
“So, what do you have in mind?” Candace asked, getting right to the point, before adding, “And by the way, you don’t suck. Not at all.”
“Thanks, but I do. Or at least, I definitely lack strength in certain areas. I do recall that someone smart once told me that change is something that should not be looked at with fear, and I should be willing to try new things, so that is exactly what I am doing. I’m going to try something new. Well, semi-new, I guess.”
“Semi-new?” they both echoed.
“Sawyer came into my store a month ago and bargained for one of the rental spaces we offer to sell his furniture. At the time, I flat-out refused him.”
He gave me a wink, making me blush.
“But eventually, he talked me into a trial run for three months. So far, it’s not going well. In fact, it’s been a pretty dismal endeavor.”
“Thanks, Elle.” He laughed. “Much appreciated.”
“Let me finish.”
Candace turned to Sawyer. “Not sure if you know this about her, but she tells incredibly long stories. You kind of just have to sit back and take it; otherwise, she gets cranky.”
Pressing my lips together, I tried not to grin, knowing it would only egg them on further. “Anyway, as I was saying, so far, Sawyer hasn’t sold anything.”
“I sold a piece yesterday!” he chimed in.
“Yes, but not in the store, and that was based on your mother’s recommendation to a family friend. It doesn’t count.”
“Okay.” He pouted.
“But still, super proud of you.”
His smile returned, and my insides melted.
“So, I was thinking back to that day when Sawyer showed up, begging for a spot. One of the things he proposed was using some of the rental spaces for non-antiques. At first, I thought this was an incredibly stupid idea.”
“Thanks again,” Sawyer said dryly.
“But this morning, I rethought the idea and realized that it might be our opportunity to bring in more customers.”
“I believe I said that a month ago,” he added.
“I know,” I agreed. “I told you I was bad at marketing and sales!”
“So, you want to open up the store to what? Other entrepreneurs?” Candace asked, a curious glint in her eyes.
“Yes, and I want you to be the first!”
“What?” she blurted out. “Are you serious?”
“Yes! Well, technically, you’d be the second, but—”
Her arms wrapped around me, and I was nearly tackled to the floor.
“Oh my gosh, Elle! This is amazing. I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes! I need your help and your koozies!”
“Yes!” she screamed.
Once I peeled her off of me, we worked on the specifics. I tried to offer her the space for free as a trial, but she wouldn’t accept. She wanted to be treated as any other renter and pay full price. It was a sweet gesture, and honestly, the store could use the cash, so I caved. After that was agreed on, we worked on how to market both their booths and additional opportunities to promote other spaces and items in the store.
By lunch, my mind was reeling with information, but I was so thrilled with our progress. When Candace left, I felt like I’d just given her an early Christmas present. I’d never seen someone so excited to rent a space in my store.
Well, except maybe Sawyer.
“That was a good thing you did,” he said as I watched Candace cross the street.
“Yeah? It feels good.”
“Why the sudden change? Spur-of-the-moment stuff isn’t usually your thing. What made you decide to do it?”
He was still in his chair—I thought he’d sat in it so much that it could now officially be called his—so I joined him, grabbing a dining room chair from a set nearby.
“It was a lot of things really, but the kick in the pants was when I forgot about the store entirely. I actually woke up this morning and didn’t even think about work.”
“That’s not always a bad thing,” he said.
“No, I know. And I want to eventually get to a point in my life where this store isn’t everything, where I can maybe hire a staff and have a day off every once in a while, but for now, it has to be.”
“Everything?” he questioned with a small smirk.
“Well, at least a larger chunk than I want.”
“Okay,” he agreed. “I can live with that. And I can also help you get there—to that pie-in-the-sky dream of days off and a full staff.”
Leaning back in my chair, I gave a happy sigh. “Ahh, wouldn’t that be the life? Having two full days off a week instead of just one?”
“Your parents would be proud of everything you’ve accomplished today.”
I nodded, trying to ignore the twinge of guilt I had whenever my mom was mentioned. It had been weeks since we’d spoken. “Yeah, I think they would be.”
“And you’re not upset about this not being solely an antique store anymore?”
I shrugged. “It’s better than being closed.”
“That’s the truth. Where else would I get a job that pays this much?”
Shaking my head, I stood and walked closer, cl
osing the gap between us. “Funny.”
“It’s one of my best qualities, don’t you think?”
“What?” I asked. “Humor?”
He nodded, reaching out for me. His fingers barely grabbed on to the belt loop of my jeans, but it was enough to pull me into his lap.
I felt that fluttery feeling in my stomach again. What if someone saw us? What if a customer walked in?
His mouth, mere inches from mine, curled into mischievous smile. “Can I have the rest of the day off?”
“What?”
That was not what I’d expected him to say. Honestly, I hadn’t expected any words to come from that mouth. I’d fully intended to use it for another purpose entirely.
“I want to go do a few things before our date.”
“You want to leave?” I said, motioning to the current situation of me in his lap, both of us finally flu-free. “Right now?”
“Just saving up all the good stuff for later,” he promised before slapping his hands around my ass to lift me up.
I yelped, an embarrassing yelp that sounded super girlie, but I was caught off guard by both the abrupt movement and his hands all over my backside.
Before I had a chance to breathe, both he and his seductive smile were on the move. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Feeling flustered, I asked, “Where are we even going?”
“Nope. It’s a surprise.”
“A surprise?” I made a sour face, which only made his grin widen. “Can I at least have a hint, so I know how to dress?”
He mulled that over a bit before answering, “You know that black dress that was peeking out of your closet earlier today?”
I tried to recall everything currently shoved in my child-sized closet. I barely knew what was in there, so how did he? “The black dress… oh! The one with the deep V?”
He just smiled and sauntered toward the door. “See you tonight.”
Smiling to myself, I thought, yes, you will, Sawyer Gallagher.
Yes, you will.
Chapter Nine
You know the expression, sweating like a whore in church?
That was me exactly ten minutes after arriving home when it finally dawned on me that I was going on a real, legit date. My chest began to heave. Every inch of me was damp, and my mouth was dryer than the Sahara Desert.