concerns, however, had taken a backseat to the varying degrees of anger and hurt she’d been busy stifling all afternoon. Thanks to Curt’s mother.
“After I picked Tyler up from school,” she continued, “we dropped off library books and went grocery shopping before we caught the ferry.”
“And saw Santa ringing a bell at the store,” supplied Tyler, still in Christmas mode. “Not the real Santa,” he explained. “Mommy said he was a helper.” He gave a sage little nod. “The real Santa has lots of helpers.”
“Be tough to do all he does alone,” she explained. Her little boy’s zipper now freed, she rose and headed for the bags. “I hope the milk stayed cold.”
Erik had never seen her in a suit and heels before. A crisp white blouse peeked from beneath the black jacket that curved at her waist and hugged the hips of her slim pencil skirt. Black tights covered the long, shapely line of her legs. As he glanced up from her spike-thin heels, he had to admit he hadn’t seen her truly upset before, either. Though she definitely was, and trying hard to hide it.
“I meant you’ve been busy around here.”
Apparently realizing the extent of her preoccupation, she met his eyes and promptly closed hers with a sigh.
“Can I have an apple?” Tyler asked.
She forced herself to brighten. “You’ll ruin your appetite, sweetie.” Taking his head between her hands, she kissed the top of it, hard, and tipped his face to hers. “Hang up your jacket and empty your backpack. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”
With Tyler dragging his jacket into the mudroom, she reached into the nearest bag to unload groceries. She’d just put the milk in the fridge and grabbed two boxes of cereal when she turned on her stylish heel.
The boxes landed on the counter three feet from where Erik watched her with his hands in the pockets of his cargos. The stance pulled the sides of his jacket back from the navy pullover covering his chest and made his shoulders look broad enough to bear the weight of the world.
It seemed terribly unfair just then to be taunted by the memory of how very solid his chest had felt. Especially when she so badly wanted to be held against it. But fair hadn’t been a big part of her day.
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head, the neat wedge of her hair swinging. “You didn’t drive all the way here to watch me put away groceries.” She tried for a smile. “May I get you something? Juice? Milk?” Neither sounded very adult. “Coffee?”
He took a step toward her. “I didn’t come to interrupt. I just want to drop off your shelving.”
“My shelving?”
“The three units for the back of the store. I had a couple of the guys work on them with me over the weekend. With Christmas coming, they were up for the overtime. One of the units is in the back of my truck. Jake is bringing the rest.”
Disbelief cut through the anxiety that sat like a knot beneath her breastbone. They’d barely discussed her layout to update the market. Though he’d said it would probably work, he hadn’t even bothered to tell her whether or not he liked the idea. All she’d done was show him her sketch, explain why she wanted it and all of a sudden the shelving she’d felt certain would now have to wait had materialized. He made it happen just like that, as if he was some sort of...fairy godfather.
The man fairly leaked masculinity. As utterly male as he was and so not fatherly in the way he’d checked out her legs, the thought would have made her laugh had she not felt like crying.
“You made my shelves?”
“You wanted them, didn’t you?”
She wanted world peace, too, but that didn’t mean she expected it to happen.
She raked her fingers through her hair, wondering if they were a gift, which she couldn’t accept without reimbursing him. Wondering, too, how much he’d paid his men, since it was undoubtedly more than she could afford.
“Yes. Absolutely. I’m just...” Speechless, she thought. “Thank you,” she concluded, because she had no idea what else to say before the ring of his cell phone had him pulling the instrument from his pocket.
After two short beeps and a glance at the text, he muttered, “Jake’s out front,” and dropped the phone back into his pocket. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Then you can tell me what’s wrong.”
Certain he was referring to her less than gracious reaction, she said, “Nothing is wrong. You just caught me off guard. I never expected you to make the shelves—”
“I meant what was wrong with you when I got here.”
Oh. That.
Thinking him far too astute, uncomfortable with that, too, she turned for the cereal. “It’s nothing.”
Moving with her, Erik stopped scant inches from her back. With Tyler just around the corner, he lowered his voice to nearly a whisper. “Lying is a bad example to set for a child.”
Conscious of his warm breath moving her hair, her head still down, she lowered her voice, too. “Then how about it’s nothing I can talk about in front of him?”
“That’s better.” Taking a step back, he indicated the door near the stairway. “I need to get into the store. Mind if I go in through the living room?”
Since he tended to do what he wanted to do anyway, she was a little surprised that he’d asked. Mostly, she was just conscious of how close his muscular body still was to hers. All she’d have to do was turn around...
She shook her head, swallowed hard. “Not at all.”
“Give me half an hour. I’ll be back.”
Twenty minutes was actually all the time it took him and his employee to unload the sections of the three shelving units from a company vehicle and the back of Erik’s truck. It wasn’t long enough, however, for Erik to question why he couldn’t leave well enough alone with the woman he’d spent the past few days trying not to think about at all. Not beyond her needs for the store, anyway. He’d told her to call him if she needed anything. Since she hadn’t, he’d assumed she was doing fine.
Except she clearly was not. Even when he let himself back inside, greeted by the scent of something delicious, there was no mistaking the disquiet she was still trying to hide.
Tyler smiled from where he sat on the dining room side of the island. Beyond him, light glowed through the glass-paned white cabinets, revealing neat stacks and rows of plates and glasses.
“Mom’s making mac and cheese. It’s my favorite. You want some?”
“Mom” had shed her jacket and heels. She stood across from them in her stocking feet, stirring a pot on the stove. The cuffs of her white blouse had been folded back. A green dish towel had been tied into an apron at the waist of her skirt. Erik knew she’d heard him come in, but it was her son’s innocent invitation that had her looking over her shoulder with apology in her expression.
“I
