“I think so. Keep drinking the juice.”
After a few more sips, her nose crinkles. “For the record, I don’t normally allow strange men to boss me around.”
“I’m not strange. You know my name, and that I work across the street. Good enough for an emergency situation.”
Claire smiles, but she’s still fairly pale. “I’m really sorry I passed out. That’s only happened once before.”
I shrug. “No worries. Some people can’t stand the sight of…that stuff.”
Her laughter rings out through the small room. “I’m so sorry I sliced you open with samples.”
“Well, they’re back in your bag, ready to maim someone else,” I chuckle. “What was that weird plastic stuff, anyway?”
Her light laugh is like cartoon fairies singing in the forest. How is it possible that a girl makes me think in movie scenes?
“It was safety plastic,” she says sheepishly. “Supposed to be used to coat windows or something I think.”
She reaches out and squeezes my hand. “I really appreciate your help. I don’t have an opportunity to do a lot of focus groups, and you’re absolutely perfect.”
So far she’s called me a strange man and a focus group. As soon as she is feeling better, I have to find a way to ask her out properly.
Claire finishes two-thirds of the juice, then seals the bottle and slips into her shoulder bag. “Wow, that’s a lot of blood sugar first thing in the morning.”
“Okay. Do you feel like we should take you to a doctor?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then shall I take you home?” I asked.
“No – I really do have to get to work.”
“Well, your boss sounded very reasonable, so how about this as a compromise: I’ll walk you to work for some fresh air. You sit quietly at your desk for an hour without doing anything strenuous. If you feel the slightest bit dizzy again, you call me and I’ll take you home. Deal?”
I grab her phone and put my number in it before she can protest, then send myself a text.
“I’ve never been cared for so…aggressively,” she giggles.
“I’ve never had anyone to take care of before,” I shrug. Damn – is that too much honesty? This breathtaking girl is making me need to be close to her immediately.
“Do you want to try standing up?” I ask, taking her hand. Her little fingers feel so perfect in mine. I don’t believe in that soulmate crap, but if our hands fit so perfectly together…I’m probably just being crazy since I’ve never been so close to a woman this gorgeous before.
I stand, pulling her up slowly. “You’re getting a little color back. That’s good.”
Actually, I might be detecting a faint blush on her cheeks as my arm circles her waist to hold her steady. She is so fresh and pretty, innocently girlish.
“How old are you?”
She makes a tiny sound like a muffled laugh in her throat. “Twenty. Why?”
“Just making conversation. Do you feel like walking?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Claire picks up her purse, as I sling on her shoulder bag. It looks downright goofy on me, but I don’t care.
We walk back out into the shop, and I see that Henry has a huge line of customers. I slip a five onto the counter. “She’s all right, but I stole an orange juice from your storage shelf.”
Henry smiles, giving Claire a careful look. “Take it easy, honey.”
“I will. Sorry about the fuss.”
I lead her outside, then slip my arm around her as we walk slowly up the street. “I assume you were on your way to work when that paper fell?” I ask.
“Yes. My purse is usually overloaded. Thanks so much for picking it up.” She looks up at me, those wide eyes positively dancing. “Goodness, what if it had been something top secret?”
“I want to know all of your secrets,” I murmur, holding her tightly against me.
Damn, I don’t know where this cheesiness is coming from, but it is actually sincere.
Claire guides us around the corner, then points to a small office building. “That’s where I work.”
I note the building number, and the signs for Egler’s Stationery and Supplies, along with a t-shirt company, and a small marketing firm.
“The printing, assembling and manufacturing building is two blocks over,” she explains. “We just do the design, marketing, and coordinating from here.”
At the door to the building, she turns to face me, stretching her hands around my neck for a hug. It’s unexpected, but feels perfect. Hopefully this is a good sign in my quest to make her fall for me.
The feeling of her fingers sensually caressing the back of my neck shouldn’t cause such an intense reaction, but I can’t help it. I pull her close, nuzzling her hair as I whisper, “Please call me if you need anything at all, okay?”
“All right. Thanks.”
I don’t want to leave her alone for even one minute. Me, the loner who goes days without speaking to anyone but customers and my mother. Being near Claire’s energy is like entering another dimension. It feels different being next to her, but absolutely right.
“What time are you done work?”
“Five. Why?”
I lean in and gently place my lips on her forehead. “So I know how long to worry about you, of course.” My tiny kiss makes her smile, I am relieved to notice.
I step back to slip off her shoulder bag and hand it to her. “Thanks so much,” she says with a wide smile, showing perfect white teeth. My feet shuffle back another step before I kiss her right here at her workplace.
That doesn’t feel proper, and I’m sure that Claire is a proper girl.
“Have a good day.” I watch as she walks into the small lobby, then turns to wave goodbye. After she disappears onto the elevator, I walk back to work with an unfamiliar spring in my step.
I’m fairly certain that she likes me. Reasonably certain that she will have dinner with me when I ask her. And absolutely positive that I’ll be there at five to walk her home.
CHAPTER FOUR
~ Claire ~
The second I walk into my office and set down my bags, I feel a strange sense of calm come over me. That doesn’t make a lick of sense, considering my heart is still racing from that incredibly close, intimate hug.
I’ve never been a very huggy person, but there is something about Shane that makes me need to be close to him.
Maybe it’s because he seems so intent on caring for me. School friends always used to tell me that they thought my family was a bit cold, but I don’t want to be that way myself. Maybe if I could find some way to hug Shane on a regular basis, he could warm me right up.
Good grief, what am I even thinking? Maybe I bounced my skull off the floor when I fell. But my head doesn’t hurt at all. Last time I passed out I had a headache for days. Did Shane catch me?
As I open my laptop, I try very hard not to think about how embarrassing that whole episode was. Yet somehow I know that Shane is the type of guy who would pull my skirt back into place or whatever to make sure I didn’t look like a complete fool.
It’s strange that he took care of me while I was out cold, but on the other hand, it doesn’t feel wrong. I feel safe with him. Likely because of those strong arms.
Mr. Egler comes rushing in, looking frantic. His perfect bow tie was almost askew. “Claire, are you alright? What happened?”
“I’m fine, thanks. Just a bit of a fainting spell at the coffee shop.”
“Good grief,” he says, shaking his head back and forth. His gray and white hair is getting a bit shaggy, and the loose waves bounce.
He’s an amusing yet oddly fussy sort of gentleman who actually wears pastel colored suits with polka dot bow ties.
“Thank goodness your friend was there with you,” he says, sitting down at the very edge of my guest chair.
“Yes, that was lucky.”
He shoots me one of his funny sideways smiles. “While you were out cold, you d
idn’t happen to come up with any brilliant ideas for the more masculine line of notebooks, did you?”
“No, I…” I stare into space. I can almost feel the gears in the back of my mind chugging around.
“Claire?” He looks concerned.
“I’m fine, really,” I laugh. “I just had an idea. I might be onto something.”
“All right.” He stands up, looking at me suspiciously. “I’m going to have Eleanor fetch everyone lunch today, and I’d like you to sit down and be still as much as possible. Can you do that for me?”
“Absolutely. Thanks.”
He leaves my office, closing the door carefully behind him.
Grabbing one of my huge raw ideas notebooks, I quickly write down everything I remember Shane saying earlier.
Won’t get crumpled when you jam it into your pocket. Can wipe off dirt. Sturdy .
It all makes sense. He spends most of his time in a metal shop. Many men work in places that are a bit dirty, with heavy gear. Their hands might not always be perfectly clean if they worked with metal or grease.
How can we make notebooks that they won’t be afraid to mess up?
There are ideas there. I just have to dig them out.
But first, I need to learn more about my gorgeous knight in shining armor. Or at least, my gorgeous hunk in black jeans. Whatever.
My fingers click lightly across the laptop keys as I search for Edward’s Antiques and Restoration.
Darn. They certainly don’t have much of a website. A single page with the address, store hours, and a photo of the sign out front.
Then at the very bottom is a line of text informing people that it is no longer a scrapyard, and they’d appreciate it if people would please stop dropping off their old metal objects by the back gate.
Shane Edwards doesn’t exist on any social media. Well, I quickly find three of them within a thousand mile radius, but the photos of a baby, a teenager, and a green haired bass player don’t fit him at all.
How do I expect to learn anything about those gorgeous brown eyes if I can’t find any online photos? How am I supposed to find out if we have any common interests?
Just picturing his strong, tan face makes me a little overheated. I slip off my sweater and hang it on the back of my chair, noticing the distinctive buttons. Funny how he had taken one look and knew that it was vintage.
I grab my antique fountain pen, and flip to a fresh page. If Shane is an old-fashioned kind of guy, maybe I should use old-fashioned methods to make him like me.
Even though he already seems to like me quite a bit. I just don’t have any experience in such things, and really don’t want to make a fool of myself.
Darn it, I almost thought the word ‘ass’ again.
CHAPTER FIVE
~ Shane ~
I arrive at Claire’s office at five to five, but don't want to wait in the lobby. There have been far too many times when people have been nervous because of my size.
Waiting under a bakery awning across the street, I picture the array of interesting kids I wasn’t allowed to play with in younger grades, because their mothers were afraid of me. I was only permitted to play with the sporty kids. The tough kids. Unfortunately, in my small neighborhood, they were also the dumb kids.
Luckily, they didn’t dare mock me for reading books that weren’t homework, or spending the entire weekend tinkering in the shop with my dad. I had shot up two years before the rest of my class, and they didn’t dare speak back to me at all.
Now, the preemptive nervous assumption that people will be upset by my size has become ingrained. I keep my distance from most other people, and it works out better for everyone.
Peering across the street, I watch as Claire comes out of the building. She has her phone in her hand, thumbs dancing quickly across the screen.
I hear my phone beep.
Claire: Thank you so much for your help today. I really appreciate it.
Me: Look up.
Her head snaps up wildly and her eyes meet mine. The instant grin that spreads across her lovely face as she sees me lights up my heart. After waiting for a car to drive past, I jog across the street to stand in front of her.
“How are you feeling?”
“Good,” she smiles up at me. “Great, actually. I made some interesting notes today, I think. Plus I tested and documented an entire product line.”
“You did all this while sitting down and resting though, right?”
Something softened in her eyes. Was she happy I said that?
“That’s…really nice of you, to care so much,” she whispers. Her teeth dig into her lower lip a bit on the right side, making her look so precious and vulnerable that I want to wrap her in a blanket, take her home with me, and look after her forever.
“Let’s get you home,” I say, automatically wrapping my arm around her shoulders again. I guess I should ask if that’s all right, but from the way she snuggles right into my side and wraps an arm around my waist, I’m pretty sure it’s fine.
After a minute we turn the corner and walk down Sherborne Avenue until we are in front of my shop.
“My truck is out behind, if you’d like a ride.”
Claire stops and turns to look up at the almost-vintage sign. “Actually, I’d rather walk. But can I get a tour of your shop?”
“Absolutely.”
“Like right now?”
I’m torn. I haven’t really tidied up the place this week since I’m working on a finicky rewiring project that has been demanding all of my attention. The work room is in shambles, and the antique store hasn’t been dusted in two days.
Which would be fine for the average living room, but antique stores are actually mystical machines that seemed to generate dust all on their own.
“Next time, I promise. Right now, I’d feel a lot better if you were off your feet.”
Claire turns, and her hand teasingly smacks the center of my chest. “I really am fine. Oh – how’s your hand?”
“Great. It worked perfectly when I was working on a wiring project today.”
“What do you do, exactly?” she asks as we resume strolling down the street.
“Lots of little things, which keep the days interesting,” I chuckle. “Sometimes people need something repaired because it’s broken. That can involve careful restoration. Other times they just want a piece updated a bit for modern life. Like rewiring an old lamp.”
Claire looks up at me with those huge warm eyes, as I realize how easy she is to talk to.
“And some people abandon things. They just drop off all the pieces that they feel bad about throwing in the trash.”
“They drop off scrap metal that’s not recyclable?” she asks.
I can feel my eyebrow twitch up. “Did you read the website or something?”
Her tiny blush and the way she ducks her chin down are absolutely adorable. It’s an admission of guilt.
“Well, yes, they do,” I continue. “When Dad ran the place, it was more of a scrapyard. But now a lot of things are recyclable so people just toss things in the blue bin. But if it’s an interesting piece, or belonged to a family member at one point, people feel guilty about chucking it. So they drop it off at the back gate. I guess that lets them pretend that it’s being upcycled and someone else will enjoy it.”
“And are they right?” she asks. “Are people in all the time looking for treasures?”
She guides us around the left-hand corner, and I notice we’re walking toward a very old-fashioned, very exclusive neighborhood.
“Yes and no. It’s a small shop, and we don’t advertise much.”
“Who is we? Your family?”
“Yes. Well, now it’s just me, and Mom drops by often.”
“Oh.” She doesn’t say anything else, but her fingers dig into my side for a second in a little half hug. Her tenderness almost brings a lump to my throat.
“Yeah, so anyway…set designers and decorators from the city come in quite frequently looking for aut
hentic pieces. They’re sort of like scavengers.”
“Modern day pirates, looking for treasure,” Claire laughs.
To my absolute shock, I burst into raucous laughter with her. “No eye patches yet, but I’ll keep looking and let you know.”
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