“Customers are not going to be fighting through the snow to find us on Thanksgiving Eve.” That smile faltered, and it was replaced by something worse—sympathy, maybe even pity. “I know you don’t want to go home. I understand what it’s like to unlock the door and step into an empty house. Remember when Jonas was in the Seattle clinic?”
“I remember.” Remembering made his chest tangle up with a whole lot of feelings he had no interest in feeling. Jonas, his brother-in-law and Dani’s husband, had been shot on a routine traffic stop a year and a half ago, and no one had thought he would recover from his traumatic brain injury. But he was coming along just fine. Grateful, Spence swallowed hard, managing to beat down every emotion. “Go home to your husband and kids. They’re waiting for you. I’ll close up here.”
“I don’t want you staying late.” Her look turned to one of concern. “You’re welcome to drop by for dinner. Jonas is cooking, and he’s gotten pretty good. He’s been watching cooking shows on television. I think he’s doing homemade pizza tonight. It should be tasty.”
Sure, he knew what she was doing, offering him a balm for his loneliness. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d taken her up on it, and he liked the idea of having somewhere to be. He and Jonas could catch a sports show. There were the munchkins—his little niece and nephew—to play with. One thing he liked was Dani’s kids.
But what if he had failed to distract her? What if she really had figured out his secret? Then there was no way he was going to put himself in close proximity to her so she could bring that secret out in the open. He hated to, but he forced out the words. “No, thanks. Maybe another night.”
“Sure. Okay.” Danielle took a step back, and that mischief returned to her eyes. She disappeared into her office for a few minutes, and the next time he saw her she was wearing a black wool coat and had her purse in hand.
“Drive safe,” he called out, going back to his worrying spreadsheets.
“I will. Thanks.” Danielle stopped at his door. “I should tell you that you’re not alone in the store. Lucy came—”
“Lucy?” he interrupted. The spreadsheet numbers rolled right out of his head. His mind went blank. His lungs forgot to suck in air. “Lucy Chapin is here?”
“You don’t have to say that like she’s contagious with the bird flu. She’s signing a shipment of her latest book because I asked her to,” Danielle explained as if that was no big deal.
It was a big deal. His pulse began to thud in his ears. His palms went damp—a sure sign of panic. “Lucy is here right now?”
“She’s in the break room. Are you all right, Spence? You’ve gone beet-red.”
“Just my blood pressure.” Or worse. And in that moment his worst suspicions about Danielle had come true. Not only did she know how he felt about Lucy Chapin but she was leaving him alone with her on purpose. There was no other explanation. “How did you know?”
“Careful observation.” Danielle didn’t even look apologetic as she turned on her heels. “I’m thinking she’ll be done in a few minutes. The least you can do is thank her, and see if she needs anything else.”
“You do it.”
“Sorry. I’ve got to get home. Talking to her would do you good, Spence.” She called over her shoulder and sauntered around the front counter. “Call me, and tell me how it goes.”
He couldn’t see anything other than red. Bright crimson splashed across his field of vision. He put his hands to his face. This was too much. How had she guessed? Danielle was good; he had to give her that. Somehow she had figured out he had a tiny, miniscule, barely nothing at all crush on Lucy Chapin.
Not that you could really even call it a crush. More like a dysfunction of his eyes, which made them always turn toward her whenever they were in the same room. That was all. Nothing more. Nothing serious.
He didn’t believe in love. Not even a little bit. So he got up and closed the door. With any luck, Lucy would finish her signing and leave all on her own without a single word to him. Besides, it wasn’t as if she liked him either. She’d always done her best to steer clear of him.
With any luck, she would avoid him, and his eyes wouldn’t malfunction and glue to her pretty face and gentle smile. Comforted, he bowed his head over his profit ratios and tried to concentrate.
The phone rang. He snatched it up. “Corner Christian Books. How can I help you?”
“Spence?”
Wait. He knew that soft voice, as melodic as lark song. Every defensive shield he had went up around his heart. “Lucy?”
“I’m calling from the break room. Danielle said you were busy in your office, and I didn’t—”
His ears stopped taking incoming information. There was just a haze of static as he digested what she’d said so far. She was calling him from the break room? He shook his head. That was something his younger sister Ava would do—the flaky sister. He adored Ava, but he didn’t trust her with a set of keys to the store. “You’re calling me when you’re what, ten yards away?”
“Sure.” She seemed unfazed by that or at least unable to see that her behavior was, well, quirky. “I didn’t want to interrupt you.”
“By knocking instead of calling?”
She was silent a moment, but when she spoke, her voice was still stubbornly meadowlarkish. “This is just a quick call. I’ve hauled the books back to the storeroom in the boxes, just like they came. I’ll go out the back, and I’ll be out of your way, but I wanted to make sure the alarm wasn’t on. I don’t have the best luck with alarms.”
“No, I haven’t set it yet.”
“But Danielle locked up and turned off the store lights, and so I just wanted to make sure—” She must have felt she had to explain.
He was probably sounding terse again. Well, better that than vulnerable, right? He was grateful for the hard-won shields he’d learned to put up around his heart—around everything. “Fine. I understand. You’re free to go.”
“Great. Thanks.” Surely he’d insulted her, but it didn’t show in her voice. “Have a good evening. Bye.”
The line went dead, but he couldn’t seem to move. Even her voice had a strange effect on him. Her kind alto seemed to circle around in his head, and he wished for one second that he was a different kind of man—one who believed in true love and happy endings and all that make-believe stuff. Because if he could, then at least he wouldn’t be alone. Instead of wishing he’d never see Lucy Chapin again; he would be hoping he could see her again. Talk to her. Take her out to dinner. But he wasn’t that kind of a man.
He was the type of man who went back to his work. To his responsibilities. The store was his parents’. Some thought that meant an easy ride, since he’d walked into this job and his parents weren’t about to find fault with him. But working for his folks meant something different to him. Commitment. Responsibility. Going beyond and doing all he possibly could. It was the least he could do for Dad and Dorrie. He disappointed a lot of people every day, but one thing he would never do was disappoint them.
The
