“Perceptive.”
She gave a soft laugh as she spooned sugar into her coffee. “You’re fighting it as hard as you know how.”
“She’s …” He shook his head. Leaned into the counter and closed his eyes. This conversation had to stop; he should want to stop it.
“I know.” Moira set her hand in the crook of his elbow, and he opened his eyes to find warmth brimming in hers. “She’s dying.”
His chest squeezed. He nodded.
“I’m sorry for it. Truly.”
Nod again. No words for the images in his head now—age and time, personified as some wrinkled microscopic monster that lurked in Tiana’s bloodstream the way the serum lurked in his, sipping her youth this very minute, while she laughed at his turtle and probably flirted with Zac.
Moira set her mug on the counter and wrapped him in a hug, and this time his arms didn’t hesitate to return the embrace.
FIFTEEN
It’s not like that,” Tiana was saying as David stepped from the back storeroom.
Jayde laughed. “Sorry if I’m a little skeptical.”
“I know him as a person now.”
“So you don’t think he’s hot anymore?”
David’s feet slowed. Whomever they were talking about, he ought to have this information. But if he had to skulk on the other side of the wall while they discussed male physique … not worth it. He stepped into view.
Tiana’s back was to him as she dusted the shelving unit behind the checkout counter. Jayde gave him a wink and cleared her throat, but Tiana kept dusting.
“I didn’t go blind this week, woman. I’m just saying … a celebrity crush can’t really stay in that category after spending a day being touristy and—and normal. He’s really … well, nice. More than you’d think, the way he struts anytime a camera shows up. Which for some reason makes me even madder at the chicks who talk about him like he’s the property of the fandom.”
Celebrity crush, fandom, right. David crossed the floor to lean his elbows on the counter and place himself into her vision.
“Oh, hi,” she said. “What’s up?”
They were somehow both more and less at ease with one another today. He should try to figure out why. He shrugged.
“I finished inventory on all the books from our latest acquisition. Want to help me price?”
Tiana finished with the feather duster and stowed it behind the counter. “You always price the books.”
“Thought you might want the experience.”
“Well, of course.”
“If it gets busy up here, let us know,” he said to Jayde.
Zac and Moira had waited until Tiana left last night before calling the others to inform them about the last twenty-four hours. Moira called Colm after Zac volunteered to wrangle Simon. Neither conversation had lasted long, and they’d seemed unperturbed afterward. They’d driven up to the dunes early this morning, before David had left for the store, and would probably get a hotel up there.
In their absence, normalcy settled. Routine. A needed thing, at least for a day.
For half an hour David and Tiana discussed nothing but books. Their worth based on age, edition, condition. Tiana’s numbers were as uniform and legible as his own, and they penciled dollar signs and digits and decimals in the upper righthand corner of every book’s first page. They worked easily together, as they always did, but she might want to tell him something.
Or he wanted to tell her something.
“These Bradburys can go out,” he said, hefting a pile he’d just finished. “Someone cleaned us out of him last week.”
“Okay.” Tiana kept marking, didn’t look up.
As he was sorting the children’s books from the rest, Jayde’s voice found them—words undecipherable, tone shaking.
Tiana looked up from the hardcover Elmore Leonard story collection in her lap, pencil poised. A wrinkle formed between her eyes.
“Does she sound scared to you?”
David stood. Yes, she did.
A male voice joined Jayde’s, volume rising, and Tiana leaped up, catching the book and guiding it to a gentle landing on the floor. “He found out where she works.”
“Will he do anything in public?”
“I don’t think so, but I didn’t think he’d come here either.”
David strode out into the aisle and turned right toward the front of the store. The man facing Jayde across the counter was an inch or two shorter than David but probably outweighed him. Hard to tell how much of that bulk was muscle beneath a shirt and loose jacket.
“We don’t do this kind of thing without talking first.”
“I know,” Jayde said. “But I want to work. I want to work here. Just go, and we can talk about it later.”
“Just go? You hear yourself?”
David stepped up to the counter. “What’s the problem?”
Jayde bit her lip but held his eyes. “No problem, boss.”
“Boss, huh?” The man pinned his glare on David and took a step toward him. “Hi, boss. I’m the fiancé.”
Jayde had never mentioned an engagement. No way David could say congratulations without irony.
“Jayde’s coming with me until we can sort out some things.”
David looked to her, arching an eyebrow. “Oh?”
She took a step back from the counter. “Chris, please. We’ll sort it out when I get home tonight.”
Chris shook his head, and his next step took him closer both to the counter and to David.
Physical force would be the last resort. As always. But he’d haul the man out of his store if necessary. David’s shoulders drew back, feet spread, muscles tensed; he let the man see his stance and hoped it would be deterrent enough.
“Chris,” Jayde said, quietly, a plea.
A presence hovered behind David, bristling the hair on the back of his neck. He shifted to one side. Tiana, of course.
Chris spotted her too. “You put her up to this.”
“I did no such thing,” Tiana said.
The bell above the door jingled, four college-age kids bustling through it—three girls and a boy. The boy shot a glance toward them, but the girls were focused on the books before they reached the shelves. After a moment’s pause, he followed.
The only thing to Chris’s credit so far was his pause until the four kids were out of sight. Then again, it proved he was in control of this persona that threatened to storm all over them if denied his way.
“I’m not leaving here without you, babe.”
“Please, Chris.”
“This conversation appears to be over,” David said.
The air around the four of them charged with something Chris must want to be danger. “Oh, really?” He stepped forward one step, two, three.
Close enough to deck. Good thing David wasn’t tempted. “This is my store, and Jayde is on my time right now. If she chooses not to go with you, then you’re going to leave and let her get back to work.”
“And if I don’t, you’ll call the cops? I haven’t done anything.”
“I’m not one for calling the cops.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Chris, don’t be stupid.” Jayde lurched around the counter. “I’ll come with you. Just stop making a scene, okay?”
A glint in the dark eyes. The left side of his mouth tipping upward. Conquest.
She turned from him to David. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I promise we’ll sort this out.”
He softened his tone. “This is what you want?”
“Enough, Jayde. Come on,” Chris said over his shoulder, already moving toward the door.
Jayde ignored him, looked up into David’s face as her eyes filled. “Are you going to fire me?”
“No,” David said.
The tears brimmed over. “Thank you,” she whispered.
She bustled after Chris with her head down, suppressed sobs in the shaking of her shoulders. The bell jingled over the door as Chris held it open for her. Irony ca
ught in David’s throat.
The door shut, and a silent sigh leaked out of him. He ran a hand over his face. Same old story.
“Why didn’t you do something?” Behind him, Tiana’s voice shook.
He turned to her, his bones feeling heavy. “She didn’t ask me to.”
Tiana paced up and down in front of the aisles, looking for their customers, then returned to his side, hands on her hips. “What were you waiting for, magic words? ‘Hey, boss, I’m afraid of this man’? Does this not bother you at all? Or just not enough to take action?”
She knew better than that. He’d let her spout everything she needed to. She stood glaring at him. He cocked one eyebrow. Finished?
Her lips tightened. “He intimidated her and made demands, and you just stood there.”
David motioned around the counter to the stool Jayde sometimes perched on while she rang up customers. It swiveled as Tiana scooted onto it, and she held it still with her feet.
“Jayde heard me offer help, did she not?”
“She couldn’t take you up on it with him standing right there.”
“Couldn’t she?”
“He might’ve broken up with her on the spot.”
“Her fiancé.”
A storm gathered in Tiana’s face, mouth turning down, eyebrows drawing together. “He’s never proposed to her.”
“So she let him claim a relationship he doesn’t have a right to. She let him talk her into walking out on her job. She didn’t know I wouldn’t fire her for that. Another employer might have.”
“But she … but you could have …”
“You’ve told me yourself a forced intervention won’t work. She had a choice, and she chose him.”
Tiana hunched on the stool and gripped the edge of the seat with both hands. “I know.”
He rested his hand on her shoulder, and she looked up, eyes searching his, lower lip jutting.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
The lip wobbled. “She’s the one who’ll probably get hit tonight.”
“And she’ll tell you about it. She’ll let you see.”
She shrugged.
“That’s hard to carry.”
A slow nod, teeth worrying her lip, and then she lowered her head.
“But listen now. She’s not putting on a face for you.”
“It wouldn’t do any good at this point. I know too much.”
“She trusts you,” he said. He tipped up her chin, withdrew his hand as the simple touch sent a longing through him to cup her face, kiss her cheeks where tears wanted to fall, seize that lovely lip between his own and …
Focus, you clod. Of all the times. “When Jayde’s ready, we’ll be here.”
“I will.”
“And so will I.”
“Really?” The whisper was as hopeful as a child’s. David nodded.
Tiana slid off the stool to stand in front of him. Close. Whatever had betrayed his straying thoughts, she’d seen it. It was reflecting back to him in her eyes.
“David …” The hoarseness under her voice pushed heat into his veins.
Customers in the store. Work to do. Not to mention the old vow to himself. He took a step back, and Tiana watched him too closely, cradling a new awareness. A lift to the right side of her mouth, which he also wanted to kiss.
Her hand reached out. Didn’t rest on his arm, only brushed fingertips over his shirtsleeve, then withdrew as his own hand had done. He strove to fasten his gaze somewhere other than her—slender hand, curve of mouth, warm eyes. So full of light, she was. So young and so good. To hold her—the thought of that privilege robbed his breath.
“After closing,” she said, a gentleness in her now that seemed to think he was some frightened wildlife specimen, “could we … talk?”
Walls—build them back up now, before the breach was permanent, before desire and admiration joined forces to flank him. Before feelings of the moment dragged him into an atrocious decision.
“Aye, we can talk.”
A brighter light beamed from her now. “Good.”
“If you hear from Jayde, let me know.”
She nodded. “I’ll stay up front while you work on pricing the rest.”
“Thank you.”
Making distance between them was a sound plan. David worked in the back until ten to six then came out to help Tiana with the closing routine. A final customer came to the counter at 5:57 p.m. with at least a dozen books. While Tiana rang him up, David did a full sweep of the store. The man left, and David turned the sign to CLOSED and locked the door.
And faced her.
She was running the tape on the register, brow puckered, fingers flashing. He left her to finish; as much as she hated numbers, she wouldn’t appreciate an interruption. He returned to the storeroom and continued pricing until Tiana appeared in the doorway.
“Finished?” he said, setting aside a book.
“Yeah.”
He stood. “Good then.”
They got their coats from the rack. Tiana hung her orange purse over her shoulder and watched him set the alarm code. They stepped onto the porch together. A soft evening, breezeless and dry and almost warm. The floodlight reflected in her eyes.
Tiana’s hand reached out again, and this time her fingers seemed more delicate as they rested on his arm and stayed there.
“For a while now,” she said, as if it were a full sentence. A full paragraph. A short novel.
This. This was why he couldn’t prevent the crumbling of the walls. A few days of knowing, and she understood. Chose to stay. Touched him. He let his thumb graze her knuckles, and the touch was far from enough.
“Yes,” he said.
“But you haven’t asked me.”
“No.”
“Not because I work for you. Not because you don’t find me attractive. Not because I’m black.”
“Tiana.”
She set two fingertips of her free hand on his lips. “I admit, the age gap was never a reason I came up with before. But you’re such a convincing thirty-five.”
Thirty-five and not a day older. Thirty-five and alone for fifty years. Her cool fingers branded heat onto his lips.
“Anyway, it’s not that either.”
He shook his head.
“Sarah, your wife? You can’t love someone else? Or is it because she died, and you won’t risk that again?”
Words rose in him, a flash flood splintering inner dams he’d neglected over the last few weeks. No one was to know these things; no one would ever have asked.
Her hand cupped the nape of his neck. Her thumb nestled in his hair. “You were so closed off. Kind and fair to work for, even someone I could call a friend, but always behind these sky-high fences with KEEP OUT signs all over them. It didn’t matter what I wanted; there was never any possibility.”
“There isn’t,” he whispered.
“Then tell me why.” Her other hand left his arm and settled an inch higher on his neck, fingers in his hair, poised to pull his lips down to hers.
He wrapped her in his arms. Held her to his chest. Not a hug. David held her. She molded to him, close. He breathed her in. His body gave a long shudder as he splintered inside.
All the nights. All the days. Never to have this again.
She pulled back by inches, lifted her face, lips parted, and he kissed her. Gentle. Slow. She made a sound into his mouth, and the kiss went on, and she clung to the front of his shirt until they parted for breath.
She traced his cheekbones with her thumbs. “David.”
He kissed her temple, her ear, her mouth again. She was sweet and salty and pure. He eased back. The side porch wasn’t visible from the street, but pedestrians venturing off the walkway could spot them if they were looking. He would always be too old-fashioned to kiss a woman in public.
“Dinner,” he said. “And then wherever you want to go.”
“Let’s walk through town and just talk.”
He led her to his Jeep, shut her door,
and walked around to the driver side. He began to drive with an instinctive direction, both of them silent until he parallel parked in front of the crepe place. It was the only elite restaurant to be found in Harbor Vale, but the food was worth waiting for. More the size of a café, seating only two dozen or so at a time, but David hoped it wouldn’t be too crowded.
They were shown a table immediately. They were quiet again while they looked over the menu, and remained so after ordering. Tiana spread the cloth napkin over her lap and looked out the wide window at the traffic, the pedestrians … looked at everything but David.
He had to tell her things. He stared down at the white tablecloth and pressed his thumb to his eyebrow as an ache formed. Perhaps he didn’t have to display the deepest core of him now. No hurry, was there?
Yes, there was. He’d told Tiana this wasn’t possible, and then he’d contradicted his own words. Nothing honorable in that. He had to make it right.
“Second thoughts?” Tiana said, her voice barely reaching him over the background drone of voices from the other tables, of clinking dishes from the kitchen.
“Not that.”
“Then what?”
“This isn’t the place to discuss it.”
She frowned.
Unfair of him. He fought the old edge re-forming inside, blunt and shielding. A fence, as she’d called it, to crouch behind. A place to nail KEEP OUT signs. He’d nearly forgotten how hard a grip this instinct had when it latched on.
“I don’t want tonight to be about me,” he said. “This last week’s been composed of outlandish revelations. You must be sick of them.”
“Not yet.” Her mouth turned up.
He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Well, I am. I want to hear about you. Can we do that?”
“Sure. After we sort out what we’re doing here.”
“I want that too. Truly.” Only … He shook his head. He had to tell her his thoughts, not keep them from her. “I might need a bit of time, to be able to get some things out. Things you need to know.”
She sat back in her seat. “How much time are we talking about?”
“An hour or two?” Heat rose in his face. This open-book practice certainly humbled a man who didn’t know how to crack the pages of himself anymore.
But a slow smile lifted her mouth. “I think I can handle that.”
No Less Days Page 15
