by Meghan March
And within a half hour she was.
The morning was slow, and having at least one customer poking around kept my mind off him.
Mostly.
“So, where do you find all of this stuff?” Jennifer asked from the front corner of the store.
She was practically drooling over the vintage Dior cocktail dress on the dress form, and easily the most expensive piece of clothing in the place. It was ice-blue satin with a ruched bodice and a sweetheart neckline. The crystals studding the dress matched the Swarovski crystal belt wrapped around the waist.
Secretly, I thought of it as the Cinderella dress, and every time someone approached it, I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, worrying they might buy it. That was the problem with being a shopkeeper in such a kick-ass store—I wanted to save so many things for myself, and Lord knew, I did that already. Too much. But it just so happened that the Cinderella dress was in my size. It would undoubtedly make the woman who wore it feel like a princess.
Then I remembered that Jennifer—who that dress was way too big for—had asked a question.
“Oh, I have a network of people who keep an eye out for me. I also hit estate sales, keep up on eBay and a few vintage wholesale stores online. It’s basically a never-ending cycle of hunting down awesome stuff.”
“Wow. That sounds like a lot of work.”
I shrugged. It was a lot of work, but I loved my job. Harriet had entrusted the shop to me for this long, and I’d made it my own. She’d never once had to worry about not having it fully stocked with unique inventory. I had several regulars who came in weekly because they knew I was constantly finding new stuff. For a few special customers, I took requests and kept an eye out for the particular pieces they wanted.
Jennifer stepped away from the Cinderella dress, and I silently breathed a small sigh of relief. She moved to the stacks of Seven jeans and dug through for her size, messing up all of Levi’s perfect folding. It was a never-ending cycle. They messed; we straightened. She also pulled a skirt and a cherry-red dress out of the armoire and looked around the store.
“Fitting room?”
“Of course. Right this way.” I led her toward the back and pulled the black-and-silver striped curtain open for her. “Let me know if you need any help with the zipper on that dress.”
She smiled and shut the curtain. I crossed to the jeans table and began refolding and straightening. The task made me miss Levi, and also wonder where the hell Jennifer-the-temp was.
“So, how long have you worked here?” she asked from behind the curtain.
“Several years.”
“Did the store carry all of the same kind of stuff before you started working here and tracking it down, or did you do that?”
It was a more personal question than I’d expected, but I was proud of what I’d done here.
“It was more kitschy and commercial before I started. It took a decent amount of time to replace everything with stock that I’d handpicked.”
“Wow, so this place wouldn’t be the same without you, would it?”
Exactly. Which was why I was so determined to make Dirty Dog mine.
“I’d like to think I bring something special to the table,” I replied, keeping my tone casual.
Jennifer shoved the curtain open and turned so her back was toward me. “Could you do up this zipper?”
“Of course. I’m happy to.”
I was pulling the zipper tab up when she said, “I guess when I own this place, maybe I’ll have to convince you to keep working here.”
I froze, and my hands faltered on the hook and eye. I forced myself to finish and stepped away. “There. All set.”
She didn’t even look at me, didn’t acknowledge the bomb she’d just dropped. She just took two steps toward the three-way mirror and twisted this way and that to view the dress.
Objectively, it looked lovely on her, the red against her fair complexion and blond hair. I wanted to rip it off her and tell her to get the hell out of my store.
Jesus, Harriet was moving fast. My appointment with the bank wasn’t even until tomorrow, and she already had a potential buyer lined up?
I needed to talk to her. Tomorrow. After I had my ducks in a row. Determination steeled my spine and was the only thing that kept the tears burning in my eyes from falling.
Then the punches just kept coming.
“Do you think I could try on that blue dress up front?” she asked. “I think it could be altered to fit me.”
Years of training myself to hold a serene expression even when I was getting the hell knocked out of me helped me fake a smile. I swallowed back the words I wanted to scream, and instead said, “I’ll get it. Would you like me to unhook you from this one?”
She said yes, and I reversed the process I’d just completed, all the while keeping that vapid smile on my face. I’d taken three steps out of the dressing room when a phone started ringing, and it wasn’t mine.
“Hey, baby,” Jennifer cooed to whoever was calling her. “Oh, of course. I’ll be right there. I can’t wait either.”
She hung up the call, and I heard the rustle of clothes. “I’ll have to come back to try on the other one. I’ve got to go.” She stepped out of the dressing room. “I’ll take the red one if you can wrap it up real quick.”
“Of course.” My movements were wooden as I ran her credit card, wrapped the dress in tissue, then put it into one of Dirty Dog’s signature bags and tied it shut. I handed it over the counter.
She winked. She fucking winked. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon. It was so nice chatting, Yve.”
And then she was gone. As soon as the door chimed, I sank onto the stool behind the counter and dropped my head into my hands. “No way. I can’t. I just can’t.”
“You can’t what?”
I jumped off the stool as the deep voice scared the ever-loving shit out of me. Titan stood in front of me. The door hadn’t chimed again, had it? I was losing my mind.
“Jumpy?”
I pressed a hand to my pounding heart and sucked in a breath as I ignored his question. “If you’re here for round two, you might as well turn around and walk your ass right back out the door.”
I had no idea where those particular words came from, and immediately wanted to snatch them back. I was supposed to be pretending last night had never happened.
His green eyes lit with something, and I absolutely did not want it to be a challenge. No. Hell no.
“I dare you to lock that door and flip the sign to closed. I’ll take you right here.” He nodded to where I stood at the counter behind the register, and his voice lowered to a husky growl. “I’ll bend you over just like I did in my kitchen.”
The words sent ripples of heat through me, and my nipples hardened against the thin cups of my bra. He was going to see them; he wouldn’t be able to miss them.
I held his stare, not wanting him to see how easily my body responded to him. “Never gonna happen.”
“For every time you tell me never, I’m going to make you beg longer to come the next time I have you.”
“Go to hell,” I spat out, hating that my inner muscles clenched, the ones I could still feel him pounding into. I’d been so right; the man was dangerous.
His eyes dropped for a beat as his smile darkened. “I’ve been there, and it’s not pleasant. I think I’d prefer to stay here and see how much harder I can make those pouty little nipples of yours.”
So much for him not noticing. I needed to put a stop to this conversation right now.
“What do you want, Titan? I’ve got a shop to run.”
As if he’d flipped a switch on his entire demeanor, he stiffened and the heat drained from his eyes. “The garage called me. They forgot to clear the codes on your car, so I’m guessing your service lights are on.”
What? “Um, I didn’t notice. Maybe?”
This time his smile was very male and very patronizing. Before he could say anything further—and I could tell hi
m to shove his patronizing smile up his ass—the door opened and a group of five women entered the store.
Shit. Tourists. A necessary evil.
Instantly they started crowing over finds, their grabby hands messing up my displays. I should have been thrilled about their excitement, but today I just wasn’t in the mood, not when I was manning the place all alone.
“I have to help them.”
Titan nodded as if dismissing me. The dick. “Do what you need to do.”
I slipped out from behind the counter and sidestepped him, not willing to get any closer than absolutely necessary because my body couldn’t be trusted around the man. With that in mind, I decided the tourists were not a necessary evil, but rather a sign of divine intervention.
They fired questions at me and I scurried around, answering them and hauling clothes to the fitting room. Ten minutes later, Titan was still leaning against the counter.
“Why are you still here?” I hissed at him. “Don’t you have something better to be doing? Like making another million or something?”
He eyed me. “Levi’s gone, so you’re running this place alone?”
I shrugged. “I need to call the temp agency and bitch them out because the girl who was supposed to come help was a no-show.”
Titan nodded. “Give me your keys. I’ll take your car over to the garage and bring it back.”
I couldn’t stop the belly laugh that hit me. “You’re my errand boy now? Did I trip into an alternate universe? You gonna leave me the keys to your Aston too?”
His eyes hardened. “I don’t leave anything undone. And considering I took this task on, I’ll finish it.”
Whoa. I’d pricked some kind of nerve there.
“Could you help me with this zipper,” one woman called out from the dressing room.
“I’ll be right there.”
Sighing, I reached under the checkout counter and dug my keys out of my purse. I looked up at Titan, completely unsure of what to make of this man and his seemingly multiple personalities.
I took the simplest route, wanting this strange interaction to be over. “Thank you.”
He took the keys and walked out without another word.
It wasn’t until I was ringing up the purchases of the group of tourists that I noticed the Aston’s keys just behind the register.
No. Way.
The next hour was pure craziness. Tourists had apparently all decided that today was the day to shop at Dirty Dog. It seemed that my signature bags were being carried around the Quarter, and word of mouth was responsible for the abnormal foot traffic. It was good for business and kept me running my ass off, which in turn kept me from thinking about Titan.
When the door chimed again, I fought the urge to sigh. I needed a break. I was hungry and I was tired, because Lord knew I didn’t sleep last night for a multitude of reasons. So combine those two things together, and I was getting downright hangry. Hungry-angry. Not a good thing for the proprietor of a store to be. I plastered a smile on my face to welcome the newest guest. My brow furrowed when I saw it was Jerome, Titan’s man-of-all-things.
My brain finally kicked back into gear. He must be returning my car and retrieving the Aston’s keys. Apparently the master only had so much time to assist peasants. Fine by me. I didn’t think I could handle another encounter with Titan today.
Why didn’t he send Jerome in the first place?
I studied the old man and my eyes halted on the bag in his hand. Normally people left here with bags; they didn’t enter with a paper sack giving off some of the most tempting aromas I’d smelled all day.
The last browsing couple called a quick thank-you as they pushed open the door and left, leaving me alone with Jerome.
He set the bag on the counter. “I heard you were shorthanded, so I’ve brought lunch and have come to offer up my services.”
What in the world? “Titan sent you to . . . help?”
“He actually told me to locate a temp agency to find someone with suitable qualifications, but I decided that after all the chattering Levi has done about this place, it was my turn to play shopkeeper. If you’ll have me, that is.”
My smile was wide and genuine this time. “I’d love to have you. Thank you so much. I’m . . . stunned.”
He grinned. “I was also instructed to return your car and retrieve the keys to Mr. Titan’s vehicle.”
Which was as I figured, but I still rolled my eyes. “He tell you to check for scratches too?”
Jerome shook his head. “Not at all. He did mention that you need a new vehicle, however. Apparently the indignity of driving a Jetta not from this decade nearly unmanned him.”
I laughed at the visual of Titan driving around in my Blue Beast. “I’m sure.”
“Now that I’m temporarily hired, you are taking a break to eat.”
I looked at the bag. “Lunch?”
“Yes. Mr. Titan was very concerned that you might not have had time to feed yourself properly, and I was instructed to make sure you ate.”
What the hell? I didn’t like this guy meddling in my life. I was a grown woman, completely capable of taking care of myself. I didn’t need someone else trying to do it for me.
I didn’t realize I’d mumbled the words aloud until Jerome replied quietly, “He can’t help but meddle. He’s a fixer, my dear.”
My eyes jerked up to Jerome’s blue ones. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s fine. I know he doesn’t come off as the most kind and thoughtful man, but there’s a lot you don’t know about Mr. Titan.”
Uh-oh. We were treading into dangerous territory here. “I think I’m probably better off not knowing. Except for you helping me out today while I straighten out the temp situation and his brother working here when he gets back from his trip, I don’t think I’ll ever have another encounter with Mr. Titan.”
I emphasized the “mister” and I had no idea why. To raise some kind of mental barrier? Whatever.
I pushed the thoughts away and rubbed my hands together. “So, what did you bring?”
Jerome unloaded a prime rib sandwich dripping with juice, along with hand-cut potato wedges and a green salad.
My eyes widened. “Dang, I should be paying you instead of putting you to work.”
“Nonsense. I quite enjoy feeding people. It’s my nature. Now eat, while I familiarize myself with the merchandise.”
I began to eat, tucking away the sandwich first—it was heavenly—and then digging into the wedges and salad. Jerome made a silent circuit around the shop and on his second pass, he began shooting questions at me. Mostly how old were several pieces of the jewelry, and what was their provenance.
When he reached the Cinderella dress, he stopped and sighed. “This would look lovely on you, my dear. You’d be quite the belle of the ball in this dress.”
I laughed. “Considering I’m not going to any balls, I think it’s better on that display.”
He turned to look at me. “But what if someone else buys it? That would be tragic.”
My smile died. “I can’t keep them all, Jerome. Otherwise I’d be living in the back room instead of my apartment.”
“Understandable, but surely . . . This one, it’s exquisite.”
“They’re all exquisite, trust me. I need to have some willpower.”
“Speaking of your apartment, you had some sort of trouble there? Have you sorted that out yet?”
The lunch I’d just eaten rolled in my stomach, and I forced a smile. “It’ll be fine. I’ll handle it today after I get out of work. I just got spooked, is all. You’d think that a girl who’d grown up in Tremé wouldn’t be capable of being spooked.”
Jerome turned and crossed the shop to stand in front of the counter. “I think we’re all capable of being spooked. Do you want to tell me about it?”
“It’s fine. Not an issue.”
Surprisingly, I did feel the urge to spill and tell him everything. Was it his kind blue eyes, or the way he seemed t
o be so even-tempered? It had taken me a lot of years to trust my gut again when it came to people, but my instincts told me that Jerome was a good person—and a good ally.
But his close connection to Titan stopped me from sharing my entire life story. It was a sad one anyway—married at eighteen, broken ribs by my husband at nineteen, and still I stayed with him for another two years, perfecting my makeup skills covering bruises. No, I wouldn’t share that. I didn’t want to see those kind eyes shadowed by pity.
Jerome raised a gray eyebrow. “If you change your mind, the offer does not have an expiration date, my dear.”
I was saved from having to reply by the chime of the door and four new customers.
Oh Lord, these girls already had beads and their hands were wrapped around plastic hurricane glasses. This would be interesting.
YVE’S CAR WAS A PIECE of shit. I had the mechanic doctor the bill to show that it only cost $300 to get it fixed, when in reality the thing was barely fit to be on the road. I had a strong suspicion that Yve would insist on paying me back, and there was no way in hell I would let her give me the five grand it had actually cost to make the Jetta safe enough to drive.
Idly, I wondered if she’d noticed the keys to the Aston. Even more, I was curious if she’d actually take it for a spin. Knowing her, she would never even think about leaving the shop while it was open, but it amused me all the same to leave the keys as an answer to her taunt.
I was not a good man. I didn’t have a heart of gold; I had a heart that knew how to make gold. Midas was the comparison I received most often. But it seemed the project in front of me was going to turn to shit rather than gold.
Knowing that Yve was in good hands with Jerome, I forced my thoughts away from her. He was former British Special Forces, and even at the ripe old age of seventy, he could still kill a man with his bare hands. He could also make even the most stubborn woman unbend a rigidly stiff spine.
Shit. I was thinking about her again. This wasn’t acceptable.
The door to my office opened and Colson entered. Finally, a welcome distraction.