“Argh!” She threw the pen down. “Bloody Moz!” If it hadn’t been for Moz sticking his handsome nose in, the boys wouldn’t have found out about the locks and she wouldn’t have had to worry about it this week or next week. Or the next month. Or two months. Argh!!!
The phone ringing dragged her from her once again rising annoyance. Sucking in a deep breath as she picked it up, she managed to say pleasantly, “Gully’s Fall Clothes Store.”
“Are you going to open up this morning?”
“Don’t you have a bookstore to open yourself, Jill?”
“I’ve been open for half an hour already.”
Del grinned. “So? I’m not in competition with you.”
“I’m standing in my doorway watching a tourist peering in through your door. Your closed door. While I’m watching, sweetie, that lady is looking at her watch.”
Del glanced her watch. Ten minutes past opening time. “Crap! Thanks!”
Practically throwing the phone into the cradle, she ran out into the store, unlocking and throwing the door open.
The woman in question looked startled.
“Sorry.” Del smiled. “Little late this morning.”
“Must be these country times.” The woman smiled back. “Laid back style.”
“That’d be it.” Del stood aside. “Can I help you with anything?”
“Just browsing.”
And buying, Del hoped. She had locks to pay for.
As luck would have it, the woman found quite a few things she liked. God bless holidays and the thirst for buying things from different places that came with it, even if those same things could probably be bought from where one lived.
Del was perched on the high stool behind the counter flicking through a fashion catalogue and making notes on a piece of paper when Ryder walked into the shop.
“All done,” he announced. “Locks in place, you’re all safe.”
Placing the pen down, she looked at him.
Ryder held up one hand. “Don’t start with me, Del.”
“I’m not.”
“You getting pissy won’t work. It’s done.”
“I’m not. I just want to thank you.”
That had his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. “You what?”
“Thank you.”
“You’re thanking me?”
“I was. Right now I’m thinking something else not very favourable.”
“That’d be more like it.”
Reaching across the counter, she punched his arm. “Don’t be an arse. I’m trying to be nice.”
“You?” He leaned his elbow on the counter. “I don’t believe it. Since when do you thank me after I’ve reamed you?”
“I’m not thanking you for that. For reaming me, you’re a jerk.”
“You deserved it.”
“Just take the thanks for putting in the locks, okay?”
He squinted at her. “Seriously?”
Del frowned.
Ryder grinned. “Okay. No worries.”
“How much did the locks cost?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“How much?”
Ryder flapped his hand. “We’ll sort it out later.”
“Jesus, Ryder, where’s the receipt?”
“You’re touchy this morning. Is it that time of the month?”
The man was a dickhead sometimes, no doubt about it. Jumping down off the stool, Del walked around the counter.
Ryder didn’t even straighten up, just watched her with amusement.
Del held her hand out to him. “Last warning. Give it to me.”
“Or what?”
She slid her hand into his top pocket. No receipt. His back pocket. No receipt. She dug in his side pocket and came up with the rumpled paper.
“I hope Dee didn’t see you groping me,” Ryder said. “She’s kind of possessive about her hot man.”
Ignoring him, Del walked back around the counter, using the motion to check the cost while her back was to him. Ouch. Opening the cash register, she took out the money and handed it to him.
Ryder looked at the money. “There’s no hurry for this, you know.”
“I know, but I’ve got the money, so here.”
Pulling his wallet from his shirt pocket, he put the notes inside. “When are you getting that new roof you’ve been talking about?”
“When I’m good and ready. When are you and Dee going to buy a house?”
Ryder shrugged. “We talk about it, but we’re happy as is for now.”
“Most normal people have an ‘our’ house. You have your house, Dee has her flat. You both go to either one. How is that normal?”
“How normal is it to sit on your roof?”
“Normal for me.”
“Normal for us.”
“There you go.”
“For us, yes. But you.” He pointed at her. “If I ever have to come out there in the ambulance to pick up your sorry, broken hide off the ground because you fell off the bloody roof, your hide won’t just be broken, it’ll be sore.”
“It’ll be sore anyway from landing on it.”
“It won’t be just from you landing on it.”
Well used to his threats, Del picked up her pen. “Unlike you, I have work to do. Go bother Dee.”
Ryder gave a grunt.
“And thanks for putting the locks on.” She glanced up. “Seriously.”
“It’s no problem, you know that.” He pushed back from the counter. “Did Dee mention to you about going to the river next weekend for a BBQ?”
“Not yet.”
“We’re seeing if everyone can come. You in?”
“Definitely.”
“We’ll get back to you.” Ryder gave her a wave and started for the door which was propped open.
She looked back down at the fashion catalogue.
“Del?”
“Yeah?”
Ryder’s expression was serious. “You need help with the roof?”
She grinned. “I won’t be putting it up myself.”
“We can put it up for you.”
“Aw, that’s sweet. But I’m not ready yet.”
“You know we’re here, right?”
“Kind of hard not to. You’re standing in my doorway.”
“Smart arse.” Ryder sent her a second wave and disappeared.
As soon as she was sure he was out of sight, she picked up the receipt again and looked at it. Cripes, Ryder knew how to pick expensive locks. Granted, he only chose high quality and in the end it would save her in security and costs, but hells bells, the price.
With a groan, she dropped her forehead onto the counter. Toasted sandwiches looked to be part of her main menu for the next week. Okay, a little exaggerated but still, parting with money not budgeted for hurt her…pocket. She liked budgets, liked sticking to them, liked knowing everything was cleared. Call her a stickler but it worked for her. Unlike now.
“You all right?” The gravely voice came right before the sound of big boots thumping across the wooden floor.
Lifting her head, Del looked up into the face of the muscular giant gazing down at her in concern.
“This,” she informed him, “is all your fault.”
“What is?” Moz asked.
“Doesn’t matter.” With a sigh, she slid the receipt aside. “What can I do for you?”
“What’s my fault?” he repeated.
Not about to flap the receipt in his face, she replied, “Me getting in the shit with the boys.”
He grunted, rubbed his chin, looked down at her thoughtfully. “Got told off, huh?”
“Four times. Wait, no. You made five.”
“Did the lesson sink in?”
The bloody nerve of the bloke. Del glared at him. “Did you come in to buy something or just annoy me?”
“Do I annoy you?”
Bracing her palms on the counter, she pursed her lips.
Moz’s gaze dropped to her lips, dropped lower, flicked back up.
Was it her imagination or were his pupils a little more dilated?
Nah, had to be her imagination. Just like her heart beat kicking up a notch at the thought of him maybe being…nah. Just nah.
Moz turned away abruptly. “I’m looking for some socks, actually.”
“Okay.” Glad to be on familiar ground, Del hopped off the stool and rounded the counter, heading for the far wall. “They’re over here by the shoes. What colour?”
“Black.”
“Got black. Size?”
“You probably won’t have them in.”
“Let’s see.” She walked down the cleared section to the sock rack, stopping to start flicking through them. “I have ten, eleven, even twelve, and possibly Yeti.”
Moz had stopped right behind her. His silence had her smiling as she glanced up at him over her shoulder.
He had one raised eyebrow. “Yeti, huh?”
Her smile widened.
“Has Simon been telling tales?”
“Maybe.”
Moz just raised the other eyebrow.
Amused, she turned back to the sock display.
And then she felt him, that shift in the air, a sudden growing warmth at her back as he moved closer, one long arm coming over her shoulder as he plucked a pair of socks from the display.
Holy heck, the man was warm. And he smelled good. A whiff of clean male, soap and faint aftershave. Yum.
Moz didn’t move back and she could only stand there, feeling him, smelling him, absorbing his warmth.
“You have my size.” His deep voice was close.
Really close.
Like right behind her close.
A little tingle danced up her spine. “I um…I bought some in.”
“You did?” The surprise in his voice was tinged with pleasure.
Maybe she shouldn’t have thought about pleasure.
Maybe she should get some sense. Cripes, he was just standing behind her, for crying out loud, and here she was acting like she had no commonsense. More like an idiot.
She cleared her throat. “It seemed like a good idea.”
That long arm reached over her shoulder again, brushing her ear as he slowly took another pair of socks off the rack. There was a definite brush of something against her, the briefest of pressure that pressed deliciously along her back and bottom, the brush of material against her bare legs.
Oh boy, he was really close behind her.
She sucked in a deep breath, which was probably a mistake because then she got a good lungful of his male scent, making her senses whirl a little. Oh, for crying out loud!
A steadying hand settled on her back. “Del? Are you all right?”
That brought her to her senses. It wasn’t like she could say ‘Well, no, you make me giddy like a schoolgirl’.
“Sure,” she managed to say cheerfully, turning to face him. “So, how many pairs do you…” She found herself looking at a blue shirt stretched over a broad chest. Oh boy. He was close all right. So close, in fact, that barely seven inches separated them. “…want?” she managed to finish.
When he didn’t reply, she slowly dragged her gaze up that powerful chest, up that strong neck, that set jaw, those firm lips, that straight nose, higher to meet those brown eyes that were - oh geez. She blinked. There was no question this time, his pupils had dilated, his gaze intense as he gazed down at her. Her mouth went dry. There was an undeniable flicker of heat in his eyes.
Moz’s lips firmed as he just continued to look down at her, his nostrils flaring slightly as he inhaled deeply.
Couldn’t the man speak? Sure as hell she couldn’t, not with her mouth so dry. So she swallowed, licked her lips, and man, that just made his pupils dilate even more.
Talk about feeling like prey before a huge predator.
Talk about an alien wash of heat flooding her nether regions.
This so wasn’t like her. She wasn’t some crazy sheila who wobbled at the knees before a man who could likely break her in half if he bothered to try. Certainly she didn’t act like this with a man who…like…well, like Moz. She really had to get a grip.
Trying to regain her equilibrium, she asked firmly, “Anything else you want?” Unfortunately, it came out a whole lot huskier.
“Yeah,” Moz said, “there is.” Unexpectedly catching her nape in a big hand, he bent down and kissed her.
Chapter 3
His lips were warm but firm. She registered that almost immediately. Warm and firm, gentling as he kissed her a little more thoroughly, his lips shaping hers, exploring almost delicately before settling fully to deepen the kiss.
Instinctively she reached out, her palm flattening against his chest, not to push him away but to steady herself as she leaned into the kiss.
God, the man could kiss. He didn’t force her, didn’t push her, but he led her along a warm path that tantalised her, his kiss decisive yet still retaining the care that shivered through her, playing along a taut string that snapped tight at the same time it strummed low and deep inside her.
Her eyelashes fluttered open when she felt the coolness invade the warmth where his lips had been. Looking up into his eyes, she saw the heat, that awareness of her, the same awareness she had of him.
The kiss was unexpected, came out of nowhere, but she couldn’t wish it away. Almost dreamily, she blinked.
Apparently the kiss was as unexpected for Moz as it for Del, for he blinked in turn before the heat in his eyes fled to be replaced with clarity. His hand left her nape as he straightened abruptly.
“Moz-”
“I’m sorry.” He stepped back, not even seeming to notice her hand falling from his chest to her side. “Del, I didn’t mean - I didn’t - I’m sorry.”
“It’s um…” Reality came crashing back in a very unwelcome swell. She could feel the redness of embarrassment bloom in her cheeks. “It’s…” It’s what? Every glib comment she’d normally give, her sometimes biting wit, vanished. She stood there staring up at him like the giddiest of women.
“I should go.” Turning, he strode back through the racks of clothes.
Before she could do more than take one step forward - didn’t know why, it wasn’t as though she knew what to do or say - Cheryl from the café walked into the shop.
“Yoo hoo, Del!” she called. Noticing Moz approaching, she smiled. “Hi. Have you seen Del?”
“I think she’s sorting through some - uh - clothes.”
The man had to have good control of his features, because Cheryl didn’t seem to notice anything unusual. Looking around, she spotted Del. “Honey, I came to see if those aprons arrived.”
“Aprons?”
“The full bib ones. Those little frilly half aprons are cute, but they’re not good for the working in the kitchen.”
Del blinked, drew in a deep breath. Okay, she could do this. This was her job. No matter what had just happened, she didn’t have time to sit and analyse. Plus if she didn’t act normal Cheryl would smell a rat.
Briskly she walked between the racks. At least her knees didn’t give out. “Oh, right.”
She couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Moz as he passed the window. The man was control personified. Face calm, eyes forward, he strode out of sight.
Cheryl glanced out the door. “Everything all right?”
“Fine.”
Her gaze cut back to Del. “Everything all right with Moz?”
“I presume so. He didn’t say anything.” Kissed me, but didn’t say much. Except sorry. Mentally berating herself, Del said, “The aprons did arrive this morning, I put them in the store room. Sorry, Cheryl, I was going to call you but got side tracked.”
“No worries.”
The privacy of the storeroom could have been a chance for Del to regroup, but no way was she going to stop and think now. That’d be dangerous. No losing the game face, keep going.
Steadfastly refusing to think about the kiss, she took the folded aprons from the shelf on which she’d put them that morning while
unpacking and returned to the front of the shop. Moving behind the counter, she took out a bag and placed the aprons inside.
She winked. “Two really pretty aprons for you, and two manly ones for Eric.”
“You do spoil us.” Cheryl flourished her bank card. “How much, honey?”
“Hmmm, let’s see.” Pursing her lips, Del stared at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I need a new roof, the veranda has to be fixed…hmmm.”
“I need a new man; it wouldn’t take me that long to decide the cost.”
“You wouldn’t trade in Eric.”
“Trade, no. Sell? Don’t tempt me. Sometimes that man has me pulling out my hair.”
“Male peri menopause?”
“You got it.”
Laughing, Cheryl paid the bill and walked out.
Del didn’t have much time after that, for several customers came in to collect their orders, some tourists bobbed in to browse, and the mayor’s wife came in to put in an order for several new outfits.
Penelope was tall and extremely thin, and finding clothes that suited her tastes wasn’t always easy.
“I’d be fine if I didn’t mind wearing boob tubes and hipsters,” Penelope grumbled, “but a woman of fifty shouldn’t be sporting that look.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Del took out the pad containing Penelope’s measurements. “You could set the new fashion trend.”
“I’m the wife of the mayor, I need to look the part.”
“He might like you in hipsters.”
“He says my hips are like bone now.”
“That’s rather insensitive of him.”
Penelope shrugged. “I tell him he’s like a small, round, Christmas pudding.”
“Because that’s not insensitive at all.”
“Thirty years later and we’re still together.”
“That’s something to be proud of.”
“That’s a miracle.” Penelope placed down several cuttings from a magazine. “Can you get me these?”
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