by Lori Wilde
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Naomi gulped from the heat of his stare. His tone was sincere, the look in his eyes determined and sexy. Far too sexy. He wanted to go shopping with her? Well, okay then. She’d hush up trying to dissuade him.
A helpless, look-what-I-found-under-the-tree-on-Christmas-morning smile stole her lips.
Oh my, but she liked him.
Shepherd watched Naomi flit around the first store they entered. It was a feminine boutique, and a diffuser misted the scent of roses into the air, making him feel a little light-headed. He didn’t know if his dizziness was from the scent, from skipping breakfast, or from his closeness to Naomi. Maybe it was all three, he thought ruefully.
“What do you think?” Naomi wrapped a luxurious shawl around her shoulders, twirled. She beamed at him, her face aglow. The brightly colored material enhanced her Snow White complexion. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Ivory skin.
He thought she was magnificent. Warm tingles started in his stomach, spread out through his body. Forcefully, he ignored the sensation. “It suits you. You should buy it.”
Her smile drifted away, and she caressed the fine weave of golden threads on the shawl’s hem. “Oh no, I couldn’t ever afford something like this. It’s for a client.”
The wistful disappointment on her face stirred his soul. It was all he could do not to reach for his wallet and buy the shawl for her. No matter what number was on the price tag.
Give it to her for Christmas, a voice in his head whispered.
But that was an impulsive thought. Would he even be in Twilight by Christmas? Yes, he’d promised Nate he’d hang around for the Angel Tree and toy drive. But nothing was holding him to that beyond a handshake.
And his moral compass.
Here was the kicker. Even if he stayed through Christmas, he’d eventually have to give her family Clayton’s key and tell his story. And that would be that. He doubted she’d ever speak to him again once she knew the truth.
The familiar guilt was a weight, tightening around his neck. He thought about why he was here. To give them the key Clayton had left behind for him. To bring closure to the family. And himself. Then he thought about what the military men had told him last night. Felt pulled like taffy in two opposing directions.
“Well?”
Shepherd stood near a rack of dresses, stared at her in bewilderment. He’d already forgotten what they’d been talking about. His head—and heart—wrapped up in the mess he was making of things. All he wanted was for her to be happy. Yet all he had to offer her was sorrow.
Her smile was a joyous thing, cloaking him in holiday nostalgia. She bounced on the balls of her feet, excited as a kid. Her breasts swayed provocatively beneath the drape of the shawl.
Every masculine part of him yearned for her.
He liked it here. He liked her.
Too bad he was who he was. And she was Clayton Luther’s sister. His mouth tasted like chalk. He knotted his hands.
Naomi waited in front of him. Her cheeks pink, her eyes welcoming. “I can tell from the look on your face that you approve.” She turned to the hovering clerk. “I’ll take it. Put it on my account, please.”
“How does that work?” Shepherd asked.
“What?”
“Your business model.”
“Oh.” Her eyes lit and he saw the passion for her work reflected on her face. “I consult with the client, getting a sense of what they like, don’t like, who they’re buying for. We create a shopping list and a total budget. I buy the items. If my client lives within twenty-five miles I’ll hand deliver everything, if they’re farther away I’ll ship it, and at Christmas I’ll wrap the presents for an extra charge. My service fee is ten percent of the total.”
“Interesting.”
“You think so?” She gave him a look that said, You’re full of bullshit, buddy, except she probably didn’t use profanity.
He ran a hand over his chin, studied her in the prism of light shining off the nearby Christmas tree. Noticed how good she looked in that red sweater, short black skirt, black leggings, and black-heeled boots. Stylish. But understated. Elegant and classy.
Today, little gold stars replaced the pearl earrings. She still wore the gold cross. Not just as a fashion statement, he realized, but as a symbol of her devotion to her beliefs.
“How did you get started as a personal shopper?” he asked.
“Quite by accident.” She laid the shawl on the counter so the clerk could ring it up. “My parents couldn’t afford to pay for my college tuition so I looked around for ways to make money part-time while I went to school.”
“Enterprising.” He studied her face, charmed. She had the softest lips. He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about kissing them.
“I was already doing all the shopping for my mom by then, and I added some of the people in her RA support group.” She signed the receipt the clerk passed across the counter to her. “Turns out I had a knack for finding just the right items at good prices. When I expanded to Fort Worth, my business skyrocketed. I ended up dropping out of college because the business was doing so well.”
“What were you studying?” He admired the way her hair curled over her shoulders, soft and silky. Ached to run his fingers through it.
“Fashion merchandising.” Her eyes crinkled up in a lovely way, inviting him to join her in a smile.
“So it was a natural fit.” Irresistibly drawn to her, he stepped closer. “Where did you go to school?”
She leaned in, and he caught a whiff of her peppermint scent. “The University of North Texas in Denton.”
He didn’t know much about Texas. “Is Denton near here?”
She gestured in a northerly direction. “About seventy-five miles north.”
He studied her face, noticed a small sprinkling of freckles across the top of her pert little nose. “Did you live on campus?”
“Actually, I commuted on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
“That seems like a long commute.”
“People in Texas are used to driving long distances. We’re a big state.” She chuckled. “Besides, it was only two days a week.”
“How come you didn’t go to school in Fort Worth?”
She rubbed two fingers against her thumb. “Both of the four-year universities in Fort Worth are private schools. Too pricey for my blood.”
“So have you always lived with your parents?”
“I did have a little apartment just down the road to be close to the folks after Mom got sick instead of moving on up to Denton. But then after Clayton and Samantha—” She broke off, hoisted up a half smile. “I moved back in with them to help with Hunter. Samantha’s parents didn’t take him because they had five other children and they were living in a three-bedroom house. There was simply no room for him over there. Besides, Samantha and Hunter had already been living with Mom and Dad while Clayton was deployed. It worked out all the way around. No risk of a custody battle if that’s what you’re thinking. Hunter is mine. Everyone agrees.”
“Will you stay with them once you adopt Hunter?”
She hesitated, bit her lip, and looked as if she was trying to decide whether to tell him something or not. Finally, she said, “I’m just trying to make it through the holidays. I haven’t had time to think much beyond that.”
He had a feeling she was hiding something, but it was her right to keep her secrets. She didn’t owe him an explanation. “Do you ever feel like you gave your life up for your family?”
“Oh no! My parents are great.”
He liked that she had a strong nuclear family. He didn’t get it, but he liked it. Wondered if she’d had any men in her life. She was a pastor’s daughter. Was she a virgin? But she was in her late twenties and gorgeous. Surely, she’d had boyfriends. Lovers?
“What is the secret to your success? What makes you so good at your job?” he asked.
“I ask a lot of questions.” She accepted the bag the clerk passed to her. Thanked her. “And I really try
to listen to the client. It’s often as much about what they don’t say as what they do. You have to read between the lines.”
“She is awesome,” the clerk confirmed. “Naomi is fifteen percent of my business.”
“It does help that I live in a town full of quirky, creative artists.” Naomi winked at the clerk. “I buy handmade artisan products whenever possible.”
“Here.” Shepherd reached for the bag. “I’ll carry that.”
“My.” Naomi grinned and relinquished it. “This is nice.”
She headed for the door, and he took three steps after her before he realized he’d forgotten his cane. He was slowly getting stronger, and starting to rely on the cane less, but he wasn’t taking chances. The last thing he wanted was to end up on the ground in front of Naomi.
He found the cane where he’d propped it against the counter. Caught up with her as the bell over the door jangled.
A cool blast of air greeted them. She laughed, a sweet sound that unbuttoned his reserve.
“I smell snow,” she said, her cute little nose wriggling.
“And what does snow smell like?” he asked, captivated.
“Wet.” There was that laugh again.
Outdoor speakers were playing Andy Williams, “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.” Naomi bobbed her head in time to the music, sang along. Adorable. She was freaking adorable. Full of heart and happiness, despite all she’d suffered. He admired her so much he felt a pinch dead center in his chest.
People stared at her. She didn’t care. She sang for the sheer joy of it. Infectious. The woman had an irrepressible spirit that made him long to know her better.
“Let’s go in here.” She pushed open the door to the next boutique. This one was a yarn store that also carried hand-knitted clothing.
Shepherd watched her flutter around the store, and he thought of butterflies. Floating. Brightly colored. Filled with beauty and grace. Cheering up the world.
“What do you think?” She held up two fluffy sweaters. One purple. One green.
“For you?”
She gave a shake of her head and a minor eye roll. “No, silly, for Matilda Muckraker.”
“That’s a real name?” Shepherd chuckled.
“Don’t make fun.” She slanted her eyes coyly. “Matilda has suffered horribly over it.”
“Why doesn’t she just change her name?”
“And get rid of a noble family moniker? Her ancestors were some of the first settlers in Texas.”
“Oh well, then. Muck away, Muckrakers.”
“You’re a bit sarcastic, aren’t you?” Amusement lit up her eyes.
He lifted a shoulder. “I can crack wise.”
“I like that about you.” She winked, held up both sweaters again. “Now which one?”
“I like green.”
“Purple it is.” Naomi handed the sweater to the checkout girl. “Put this in the pile.”
“If you were going to do the opposite of what I said, why did you ask my opinion?”
Naomi’s smile was honey on hot biscuits. “I wanted you to feel needed.”
Shepherd snorted, laughed. Damn, but he liked her.
“You’re hanging around with nothing to do. I thought I’d liven things up.” She poked him playfully in the ribs with her elbow.
Oh, she livened things up all right. And it had nothing to do with sweaters. Um, beyond the one she was wearing and filling out so nicely.
“Onward and upward,” Naomi chirped, a delightful sound that bounced off the high ceilings of the old building, a sound that left him feeling special and included. “Next stop, Perks.”
“What do they sell there?”
“Coffee. Shopping is hard work. I need caffeine.”
“You sure about that?” he asked. “I can barely keep up with you now.”
Immediately, her brows dipped in concern. “Oh my, I didn’t think. I am so sorry. Is it your leg? Are you in pain?”
“I’m fine,” he said, putting gravel in his voice. He hated to call attention to his damn knee. Wished he hadn’t made that joke. “I was talking about your boundless energy. You’re a force of nature.”
Naomi patted his shoulder and leaned close to whisper, “Oh that. Don’t worry. We’ll get you a double shot of espresso so you can keep up.”
And Shepherd couldn’t have been more bowled over if she’d reached up and kissed him.
Chapter 11
“Welcome to Perks!” said the girl behind the counter wearing a green elf hat. A jingle bell jangled from the end of it every time she bobbed her head. Which was often. The cheery barista was as bubbly as Naomi.
“Hi, Mia.” Naomi wriggled her fingers at the elfish blonde.
“Hey.” Mia’s eyes lit up at Shepherd, and she licked her lips. “Who is your handsome new friend?”
“Mark.” Naomi turned to him with a flourish of her hand. “This is Mia. Mia, Mark.”
“Hello, Mark.” Mia took a Tic Tac box from her pocket, popped a mint into her mouth. “Where did you come from?”
“He’s our church’s new handyman,” Naomi explained.
“Nice to meetcha, Mark.” Mia went up on her toes to lean over the counter and offer him her hand.
“You can call me Shepherd.” He shook her hand. His shoulder was still tingly from where Naomi had touched him. “Everyone does.”
“Except me,” Naomi piped up. “Last names used as first names seem so cold.”
“I think it’s sexy.” Mia didn’t let go of his hand or his gaze. “Anyone ever call you Shep?”
“Not and lived to tell about it.” Shepherd reappropriated his hand.
Mia laughed, but looked disappointed. “Wanna sample the new coffee flavor?”
“What’s it called?” Naomi asked.
“Mistletoe Mocha.”
“Sounds, um . . . interesting. What’s in it?”
Mia wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure. Mocha definitely. Other than that . . .” She shrugged. “I’ve got the recipe here somewhere.”
“Did Evelyn make it up?”
“Yes.” Mia rolled her eyes. “You know how Evelyn is when she’s got a wild hair.”
“Evelyn’s the owner,” Naomi explained to Shepherd. “She puts together some weird flavor combos. Some of them turn out great, others not so—”
“Like the Fourth of July Watermelon Latte.” Mia shuddered.
“That didn’t work out so well,” Naomi finished.
Shepherd rested his arm against the counter. Enjoying the exchange between the two women.
“So, you want the Mistletoe Mocha?” Mia asked.
“I’ll stick with my usual cappuccino. Add an extra shot of espresso.”
“Extra shot, huh?” Mia inclined her head toward Shepherd. “This guy wearing you out? If he is, just say the word. I’ll take him off your hands.”
Shepherd braced himself against the sassy barista’s words.
“If anything,” Naomi quipped, “I’m wearing him out.”
“Ooh-la-la. Fun day.”
“We’re just getting started.”
“What’s up for the afternoon?” Mia stared pointedly at the zipper of Shepherd’s jeans. “You can leave him here with me if he’s slowing you down.”
Naomi slid a sidelong glance his way. Sorry, she mouthed.
He shrugged, sent her a quick, good-natured smile. Not her fault that Mia was an outrageous flirt.
“My loyalties lie with Naomi,” he told Mia.
“Damn the luck.” Mia laughed and punched Naomi lightly on the shoulder with a knuckle. “Look at you go, girl.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Naomi said. “There’s nowhere to go. Shepherd and I are just . . .”
“Just what?” Mia prompted, retying the strings on her apron.
“He’s helping me.”
“Sure he is.” Mia winked.
Naomi blushed.
“No worries.” Mia waved a hand. “I’m just poking fun. Makes the day go by quicker.
What’ll you have, cowboy?”
“Cowboy?” Shepherd echoed.
“She calls every guy that,” Naomi explained. “She has a Western fetish. I blame Longmire.”
“Well,” Shepherd said, “she does live in Texas.”
“Thank you.” Mia fluttered her eyelashes at him. “You want the Mistletoe Mocha?”
“I’ll pass on the fancy coffee,” Shepherd said. “I take plain black.”
“With sugar?” she asked.
“No.”
“Cream?”
“Black.”
“Any flavorings?”
“Black.”
“Watch out for him. He’s weird,” Mia whispered to Naomi. “But cute.”
“Cute goes a long way in making up for the weird.” Naomi chuckled.
Shepherd lifted his shoulders to his ears, the collar of his coat brushing his lobes. If he didn’t think Naomi was the cutest thing since baby kittens, he might have walked right out of the coffee shop.
“Still. Plain black coffee? When he could have any of this.” Mia swept her arm at the overhead chalkboard filled with elaborate drink offerings. She clucked her tongue and sent Shepherd a tsk-tsk glance. “You could have a Royal Flush.”
“I’m not even gonna ask what that is,” he mumbled.
“Pumpkin flavoring. Caramel. Vanilla. Hazelnut cream. Sprinkled with cinnamon and nutmeg,” Mia said.
“Pass.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing . . .” Mia shook her head as if he were a lost cause. “It’s yummy. Earthy and frothy, sweet and complex.”
“I like things simple.” Shepherd paused, and cast a glance at Naomi. “Uncomplicated.”
“Translation, boring.”
“I’m good with that.” Shepherd took a ten-dollar bill from his wallet and stuck it in the tip jar.
“Woo, a big tipper. He’s a keeper. Okay, I’m back to liking him again.” Mia grinned at Naomi. “Unless he’s trying to buy my affection.” She narrowed her eyes at Shepherd. “Is that what you’re up to?”
“You want me to take the ten bucks back?”
“No, no.” She placed her hand over the tip jar. “I’m good with having my affections bought. How long you in town for, cowboy?”