“Yes. I know a fantastic antique restorer.”
“Excellent, thanks honey.” My dad absolutely grins. “And I’m serious about bringing your new boyfriend to the party. We had a comment at our last large event that it was the same people over and over. We’re trying to get several new faces out this time.”
I press my lips together to prevent myself from explaining that since family events are attended family, the guest list doesn’t usually change that much.
“Glen, I’ll meet you at the door in five minutes.”
“Okay.”
My tea is a bit too hot, but I swig most of it anyway before rushing up to my room to finish my makeup and grab my things.
Thankfully, Glen is quiet on the ride to Edward’s Antiques and Restorations. We park in front, and he pops the trunk to get the box out for me.
I am barely out of the car when I hear a familiar deep voice. “I’ll take that for you.”
In the split second it takes for me to spin to face him, I can feel my face stretch into a giant smile.
“Good morning,” I grin up at Shane.
He takes the box from Glen. “The bronze lamps. Great timing, I have another bronze repair to do this afternoon.”
Shane somehow balances the box with one hand and reaches out to Glen with the other. “Shane Edwards.”
“Glen Cumberland,” my brother says smoothly. He’s clearly intimidated by Shane’s size, but I also think I detect a note of jealousy in his stare.
Then he looks up at the building and parking lot area that together take up two thirds of the block. “Is this your place?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting property,” Glen says, nodding almost to himself. “Claire, you can walk to work from here?”
“Yes. Thanks for the lift.”
“No problem.”
He reaches out to ruffle my hair, but I quickly swipe my forearm up in a block. “Don’t even try it,” I growl, narrowing my eyes.
Glen snaps the trunk shut, laughing as he leaves.
Shane shakes his head. “Sibling junk, right?”
“Absolutely.”
We walk inside the shop and my own gasp startles me as I look around. “Wow. Shane, this is amazing.”
He sets the box on the counter as I wander around the room, and up and down the aisles of shelving. It’s like a secret treasure room. A museum warehouse. Somewhere one would hide the lost ark of the covenant.
Sitting among the large ornaments, lamps, and endless candlesticks are tiny knick knacks like iron, bronze, and silver animals. Little photo frames. An antique hairbrush set with a hand mirror.
An entire section of antique tea pots and serving trays. A collection of chandeliers which would be elegant individually, but in a swarm are delightfully kitschy.
I walk slowly around the perimeter of the huge space, then end up back at the end of the counter by a table and chair set. Shane was unwrapping and examining the lamps.
“I love your shop!” I squeal, unable to contain my excitement. “This place is nuts. In a good way.”
“Perfect. Nuts was what I was going for,” Shane smirks.
I'm not sure why that makes me blush a bit, but it does.
I go over to where he’s running his finger along a golf club shaped scrape. “I have the filler for this. There are a few more tiny dings…” He points to spots on both lamps that I would never have noticed.
“Is ‘ding’ a technical term in your industry?” I ask, attempting to keep a straight face.
He almost manages to look stone faced for three whole seconds. “Yes.” Then he grins. “I’ll smooth them out, then polish them. They’ll be a bit brighter for a while, but in a few years the patina will deepen again.”
“You’re amazing. Obviously this isn’t a rush.”
“And obviously this job is on the house,” he winks.
“No.”
His chin lifts. “No?”
“No. I have a credit card for house expenses that I almost never use. Let me use it to make sure it still works.”
Shane sets the lamp back in the box and wipes his hands on his jeans as he comes around the counter.
His hand presses against my lower back, holding us together. He leans in to kiss me softly, then smiles. Those dark eyes are so sexy I almost lose my breath. “Are we going to have our first fight this early in the morning?”
I don’t have a chance to speak, as his lips press to mine, the warmth spreading through me as if I were a sponge, soaking him in.
As his huge arms draw me closer to his frame, our lips parting to breathe the other in, I’m stunned at how close I feel to him. I want to know every single detail about him. I want to make him happy. I want…more. Of everything.
I’ve never considered myself a greedy person until this very moment.
When he gently pulls his mouth from mine, running his hands up my back, I nearly gasp in frustration.
“We should go to Henry’s for your breakfast, then get you to work.”
My bottom lip sticks out until he kisses it. “What are you, the reality police?”
“Yes. Now let’s get crackin’, missy.” His old timey cop voice makes me laugh out loud.
Henry seems genuinely pleased to see us come in together. Once again, Shane insists that I get food as well, and pays before I can protest.
Even though the gesture is unnecessary, it’s sweet, and makes me feel incredibly cared for.
I make it to work just in time, giving Shane a deep kiss that isn’t quite appropriate for the sidewalk in front of my office.
“We’re still on for dinner tonight?” he smiles down at me.
“Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
“Great. See you at five.”
I’m not sure if my feet are even touching the ground as I walk inside, and I can’t be bothered to check.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
~ Shane ~
The beginning of every project is special to me. Learning a bit about the feel of a piece, visualizing its history, wondering where it has traveled over its lifespan. This is all part of my process.
Although I’m as far from a hippie spiritual type as a guy could possibly get, I still feel that solid metal objects have their own life force within.
No, they aren’t alive. But the metal has been mined, processed, forged, poured, and set into a mold. So many humans put their energy into the making of a piece. Somehow I always feel that it is a privilege to pick up the baton at the last leg of the relay race, and give an item one more chance at a good life.
Okay, that’s getting way too sentimental. But it’s what Dad always said, and I truly believe it.
Now that I’m working on something for Claire, it’s different. Personal. I always do my very best work of course, not for the customer so much as for the item itself.
But this is going to be in Claire’s home. Sure, I want to impress her, and maybe her mother as well, to some degree.
Between repairs back in the workroom and going out front whenever the bell over the door tinkled, I completely lose track of time.
When I finally check my phone I see that it is five o’clock on the dot, so I call Claire.
“Hello?”
“Hey, sweetie. I’m just finishing up, and ran out of time. Do you mind meeting me here at the shop?”
“No problem, on my way.”
I love that she isn’t disappointed in the slightest that I can’t meet her there. It’s only a few blocks, but television has taught me that some women are impossibly fussy. It’s a relief that Claire is more logical.
Just as I am finishing scrubbing my hands and pulling on a fresh t-shirt, I hear the front bell ring.
Checking to make sure my black jeans only have a couple of shiny smudges, I call out, “Be right there, sweetie.”
I check my face for grime in the washroom mirror and run a hand through my hair before going out front.
“Sweetie, huh?” Mom says, grinning almost maniacally. With
her blinding orange cardigan over a golden yellow shirt, I have to wonder if she is officially becoming a crazy old lady.
“Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
“Apparently.” Her eagle eyes scan the room to see if anything sold today. “You unloaded the art deco candelabra. Finally.”
“Yes. And a couple of stools that were back in the shop area.”
She nods approvingly. “Good to know that things are picking up.”
I nod along with her. “Cycles. Ebb and flow. You know this.”
Her cherry red nails click on the steel counter. “Scrappy, I know we wasted money with advertising all those years ago, but maybe it’s time to try again. Do something different.”
“Everything’s fine, Mom. I’d rather just stay steady as she goes.”
“There’s more coming in then going out,” she says, tipping her head so that her curls bob. “I know this is a huge space, but you can’t just add more shelves every year. You need to be moving more product,” she says firmly, as the doorbell rings.
Claire tentatively pushes the door open, then takes a cautious step inside, clearly not wanting to interrupt anything.
Not only am I glad to cut my mother’s lecture short, this is a perfect opportunity to play the role of the good boyfriend.
I walk over to slip an arm around her, kissing her forehead. “How was work, sweetie?”
“Pretty good, thanks.”
Her eyes flicker to the older lady staring pointedly at us.
Keeping my arm snugly around her, I march us forward. “Mom, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend Claire Cumberland. Claire, this is my slightly crazy but mostly harmless mother.”
Claire’s instant smile toward my mom sends a strangely sweet shot of warmth through my heart. She reaches forward to shake Mom’s hand. “So lovely to meet you, Mrs. Edwards.”
“Please, just call me Ellen.”
Claire laughs. “All right.”
“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing,” Mom said, scanning Claire’s face and outfit as if looking for clues. “What do you do, dear?”
“I work on developing the product lines for a stationery company,” Claire says. “I test, help design, and assemble collections of pens, notebooks, journals, calendars, and all sorts of organizational tools.”
Damn, I love the way her eyes glow when she mentions her job. I love that she loves her work.
Mom’s left eyebrow rises sky high as she turns and elbows me. “A smart, capable girl. Good call.”
“We were just on our way to dinner...” I walk behind the counter to turn out the lights and grab my phone and keys.
“Dinner sounds great,” Mom says brightly. “I’m starving.”
Although I know she’s teasing, Claire doesn’t, yet doesn’t seem concerned in the slightest. It’s refreshing to see that she’d be willing to just go with the flow.
“Don’t even joke about that.” I narrow my eyes and scowl. “I know that Fridays you like to get drunk with your cronies.”
“Ladies do not get drunk,” Mom says in her haughtiest fake British accent. She winks at Claire. “Just very, very tipsy.”
Claire laughs as I usher them out the door, setting the security system and locking both deadbolts.
I lean in to give Mom a hug. “Good seeing you, Mom.”
“She’s gorgeous,” Mom whispers. “She has that sexy librarian vibe.”
I straighten up quickly. I do not want my mom commenting on my girlfriend like a dudebro. Just – no.
“Nice to meet you, Claire,” Mom says, waving as she walks to her car. “I hope to see you again soon.”
As I walk Claire back to my truck, she smiles up at me. “She’s sweet. What did she say when she hugged you?”
I wait until my hand is firmly on her ass while helping her into her seat to say, “That you have a sexy librarian vibe.”
I hear her laughter even through the truck door after I shut it. Her bright, contagious energy is already making me less of a loner. I can feel it. Tiny parts of my personality are recalibrating.
It’s like fresh paint that I wasn't ready to touch yet, in case it hadn't set.
CHAPTER TWELVE
~ Claire ~
Shane did indeed pick the perfect restaurant. The thing is, I don’t even know if he had any idea how perfect.
Not only are we tucked into a romantic corner with a window overlooking a park, but the unlaminated menu features a lovely cotton rag paper with silk fiber and a top raw deckle edge.
The burgers are incredible, the salad is fresh with a wonderful herb dressing, and they even have a chocolate lava cake that is the perfect size for us to share.
All evening, Shane’s attention is totally riveted on me like some sort of tracking beacon. Intense. But instead of feeling ominous, I know it’s his way of caring.
He is so attentive, checking on every aspect of my meal, and keeping the conversation flowing with stories of some of the more colorful characters who came into the shop searching for odd things.
He is genuinely interested in the new line of more masculine notebooks and planners I am designing, and offers to help me test pens without my even having to ask.
Our chairs inch closer every time we laugh. His hand is on my knee more often than it isn’t. Every single part of me wants to snuggle closer, and the fact that we are in public is, frankly, getting annoying.
I’ve always assumed that I’d be afraid to be alone with a man. Nope. Now, I don’t care if it's fast. I want to be alone with him as quickly as possible.
Yet I’m a bit too nervous to think about the possibility of that happening tomorrow night.
As I come back from the ladies room, I see that Shane has already taken care of the check. He begins to stand as he sees me, but I wave for him to sit back down, sitting close beside him again.
“Before we go, I wonder if I can ask you a teeny favor.” He can likely tell by the way my fingers can’t stay still that something is up.
“Of course, sweetie,” he says, taking my hand. I love the way he strokes my palm with his thumb. I’m becoming addicted to all of his sexy little gestures.
“First off, I need you to understand that you can absolutely say no.”
His grin is positively adorable. “You know I’ll probably say yes. What’s up?” He leans in to drag his lips along the edge of my jaw. “Don’t be nervous, Claire. You can ask me anything.”
“Okay. My brother is having...I know it sounds crazy, stick with me here...a pre-engagement party tomorrow night, and my mother wanted to fix me up with some guy she knows, but that’s not happening. I’m hoping that…”
As I stare into his eyes, Shane smiles softly. “Do you want me to go as your date, Claire?”
His lips grace my temple, as I feel tingles running through me. Either my entire body is begging him to touch me more, or the sugar from that chocolate cake is kicking in hard.
“Yes. Please.”
“It would be an honor.”
Then his tender smile turns into a slight smirk. “Are we talking plain black suit, fancy Italian black suit, or do I have to go shopping tomorrow for a tux?”
“Any black suit would be perfect.”
“Is the party at your house?”
“No. It’s in the ballroom of the Royal Bridge Hotel downtown.”
“Anything in particular I should know about your mother?” he asks. “Is she allergic to the color blue, will she be mortally offended if I have a beer instead of wine, anything like that?”
I love how easily he makes me laugh. “No hair triggers, don’t worry. She loves antiques, gardening, decorating, and old buildings.”
He nods quite seriously. “Got it. Thanks.”
“See, now don’t you wish you had a manly workman’s notebook in your pocket for just such an occasion?”
He holds up the back of my hand as if he’s about to kiss it, but instead he takes two fingers and smacks it lightly.
“Cheeky little monkey
,” he says, which sounds so adorable with that dark, gruff voice.
“Listen, my mother is going to be focused completely on Glen. Everyone will be. So I just have to show up, smile, and be seen being happy.”
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