Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 70368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“That was the last customer.” Gabe came bustling in, a welcome break from my thoughts. “We’re finally done and ready to do it all again tomorrow. Then, Sunday, we have the crafters’ dinner.”
“Not much time to breathe.” I smiled at him, trying to send calming vibes. Gabe had always tended to the anxious side, but ever since I arrived, he’d been a ball of stress. The extra people with the crafters and customers filling Seasons hadn’t helped either.
The same event space that had hosted Thanksgiving had been transformed into a craft bazaar for Black Friday and Small Business Saturday, special additions to the usual stock of ornaments and gifts in the shop. On Sunday evening, the artisans and fellow small business owners would gather to celebrate a hopefully successful and profitable weekend.
Buzz. Buzz.
“Heck.” Gabe pulled out his phone, which was vibrating incessantly.
“At least we get chow now.” I stretched. Retail work was surprisingly physical. Earlier in the day, Gabe had promised pizza at his house. Thank God. Not that I had anything against Zeb, but I wasn’t ready to be alone with him again, at least not until I figured out my bizarre reaction to the dude.
“Change of plans.” Looking up from his phone, Gabe frowned, deepening the worry lines around his eyes. “Paige isn’t feeling well after the late night yesterday. Lucy wants her to rest.”
“Probably a good idea.” Fifteen years of playing poker with special forces operators allowed me to school my expression and voice to not reveal any disappointment.
“If it’s okay, I’m going to leave you guys on your own for dinner and go check on Paige. Sorry.” Gabe pulled some cash out of his worn black leather wallet. “I’ll buy your pizza to make it up to you.”
“I don’t need your money.” Zeb held up his hands, but Gabe merely turned and handed the money to me instead.
“Order the Mafia Meat Trio and think of me.”
“Done.” Unlike Zeb, I knew when to drop an argument. I’d simply return the cash when Gabe wasn’t looking.
Back at the apartment, Zeb used an app on his phone to order pizza from the same place my crowd had frequented in high school.
“Pizza should be here in thirty minutes.” He set his phone down on his desk. We both stood awkwardly in front of the one chair in the room. As I shifted my weight from side to side, my foot brushed the malfunctioning air mattress box.
Saved. Dropping to one knee, I examined the box, looking for any parts or clues we’d missed last night. “A half hour is enough time to solve this air mattress issue.”
“Good idea,” Zeb said way too brightly. He knelt next to me, and I glanced over at his locked front door. I never backed down from a challenge, but hell if I wasn’t looking for an escape. We were alone, a whole evening stretching in front of us, a fact I was way, way too aware of.
Alone with only one viable bed.
Unacceptable. I couldn’t spend another night mauling Zeb in his sleep or staying awake trying to figure out why the scent of cinnamon was now my biggest turn-on. Nope. I needed rest and sanity.
Never had I scoured directions or packing materials so closely. As carefully as a surgeon performing open-heart surgery, I fiddled with the valves, swapping one for a spare in the box. Pressing the On switch, I held my breath.
“It’s working!” Zeb crowed. Funny how enthusiasm totally transformed the guy. Earlier, when he’d been talking about the pleasure of helping customers find the perfect ornament, he’d been appealing in a way I really couldn’t describe. All I knew was that watching him work all day had been a pleasure I really shouldn’t have indulged in. And even more reason to pray the mattress stayed inflated. But so far, so good as air slowly filled the bed. “Go you!”
After I flipped the switch off, Zeb turned toward me, hand outstretched to slap mine.
“Go us.” I accepted Zeb’s high five, but a weird jolt of electricity shot down my arm. I held fast to his hand, trying to figure out why a simple gesture, one I’d done thousands of times, had my skin tingling and abs quivering. For his part, Zeb didn’t flinch away. To the contrary, he locked eyes with me, gaze steady and sure as he closed his fingers over mine.
Now we were holding hands in midair, but hell if I could move. Breathing was challenging enough, let alone pulling away. My heart revved like a chopper about to lift off, my stomach doing the same swoopy thing it did every helicopter ride. Zeb’s eyes were so pretty. How had I ever thought they looked like a turtle? No, the shade was closer to jade, the mottled beauty of natural stone, the sort that invited closer examination.