Chapter 5
Ever
“I’ll stop by after I close up tonight and drop off your soap order.” I balance the phone between my ear and shoulder while I restock and rearrange jars of honey.
“No need. Jo’s grabbing lunch and said she’ll pick it up on her way back,” Trevor says.
It’s only been two days since the festival, but I want to ask my friend about the sexy guest of his.
Dmitri never came back for the teacups and saucers on Saturday.
I figured he got caught up with some of the other festival activities, but when he didn’t show up at the shop yesterday to claim them, my skin started to itch.
It’s not the first time someone said they’d come back to buy something and didn’t, but it is the first time I’ve wanted to see a customer again so badly.
For all I know, he left yesterday so he could be back at work first thing this morning. Sure, I could ask Trevor if Dmitri checked out, but that feels a little on the stalker side, and I don’t want to put my friend in an awkward position.
My stomach grumbles. “You think Jo would mind picking up something for me?”
“Already asked her to get you a maple pulled pork sandwich and a milkshake.” I can hear the knowing smile in my friend’s voice.
“Salted caramel?”
A huff passes through the line. “Would I dare send Jo with anything other?”
“This is why we’re friends.” I stand back, look at the display, and smile. Trevor’s hospitality doesn’t end at the inn that’s been a part of his family for three generations. Hospitality is part of his DNA.
“And here I thought it was because we live across the street from each other,” he jokes.
I hurry to the storage room and grab the box of soaps, so they’re ready when Jo gets here. “Proximity is the reason for our friendship?”
“Friendships have been built on less.” The hum from the single cup coffee maker Trevor keeps in the lobby comes through the line, followed by the gurgle of brewing coffee. “Trivia night at The Striped Maple tonight. You coming?”
I slide onto the floor behind the counter, then prop my ass on the stool and stifle a yawn.
As much as I love the Honey Bee Jubilee, it’s a ton of work, and I’m still feeling it.
“Can’t tonight. I promised Celia and Lydia I’d do a beginner’s beekeeping workshop at Lydia’s artist co-op.
Apparently, several of them are interested in starting backyard hives. ”
The bell on the front door sounds, and I turn to greet the customer.
As soon as I spot him, my mouth turns up.
His full lips spread into a slow smile, and my stomach dips and swirls with attention from the man who has taken up residence in my head since Saturday.
Okay, technically, since Friday night, but who’s keeping track?
“A customer just walked in. I’ll talk to you later,” I say to Trevor, ending the call before I hear his farewell. The gorgeous specimen in front of me captures my focus.
The sleeves of the lavender button-down are rolled up to just below his elbows, showing off bronze skin sprinkled with a light dusting of black hair.
His dress pants are way too dressy for the shop, but he wears them like they’re a second skin, comfortable and natural.
I spare a glance at my worn khakis, noticing a grease stain from when I oiled the squeaky door hinge earlier this morning.
“Hi.” Voice smooth and rich like a cello made by Francesco Toto, Dmitri lifts a hand.
I tuck my phone into my pocket, hoping the action will give me a moment to settle my erratic heartbeat. It doesn’t.
“You made it,” I say.
He runs his palm over the top of his short, black hair.
“Sorry. I got sidetracked.” His gaze scans my little shop, taking in the shelves of honey and beeswax products, the tables of bee-related items, and the kids’ corner with books, plushies, and clothing, all honey and bee inspired.
When his attention catches on the antique brass chandelier hanging from the middle of the store, his grin widens. “Are those bees?”
“Would you expect anything different?” I lift my hands and gesture to the store.
Smiling, he tucks his hands into his front pockets and rocks back on his heels. “I do sense a theme.”
“I’m your honey and bee guy. You want to know anything about bees, honey, or beekeeping, I’m your man.” Batting away the traitorous thought that I’d like to be his man, I round the counter.
Dmitri saunters closer, his gaze lingering over me like a bee on a flower. “Trevor mentioned you’re a beekeeper. That you provide pollination services for local farms.”
My heart leaps and pulse skitters in an internal confetti-tossing cheer to hear that he may have asked about me. “Among other things.”
“I’ve never met a beekeeper.” He tips his head. “Is that the correct terminology?”
I’m not sure why his inquisitive expression is so sexy, but it is. “It’s as good as any.” He raises a dark brow and my smile grows. “Yeah, beekeeper is correct.”
“And what else does a beekeeper do?” He rests a hip against a display case of bee costume jewelry like he did under the tent at the festival. And like at the festival, he looks edible.
“Whatever you want.” I move closer, shoving my hands in my pockets for fear I’ll be unable to keep from running them over his arms, chest, thighs…
Basically all over his body. I watch in fascination as his throat bobs, wanting to know what the skin below the short whiskers of his beard feels like.
Is it smooth? Does it taste of the hint of spice that scents the air around him?
Silence stretches between us while he seems to consider my answer.
His gaze rakes over me and I want to turn the sign to Closed, then drag him to the back and find out what he looks like under his tailored shirt and pants.
It’s been years since I’ve had such an intense reaction to a man.
I tilt my head to the side. When I think about it, I can’t actually remember a time I felt this pull, this need to engulf and be engulfed by someone.
Which is less than optimal considering he’s only visiting.
When his gaze reaches my eyes, the tip of his pink tongue pokes out from his mouth and traces his upper lip. “I…” Voice husky, he clears his throat before beginning again. “I was hoping you still had the teacups and saucers. They’ll make a great Mother’s Day gift for my mom.”
“They’re still boxed up.” My cheerful tone hides my disappointment. Disappointment of what, I’m not sure. What did I think? He’d show up at my store in search of me? “Give me a minute. I have them in the back.”
I jog the few yards to the back room and pick up the white box I placed the wrapped porcelain in on Saturday. When I return to the front, Dmitri holds two beeswax candles in his hand as he inspects the maple honey tea.
“Is this any good?” He holds up a bag of tea.
I return to the counter and set the box atop of it. “It has a softer flavor than maple tea. More floral and a little sweeter.”
He brings the bag and the candles to the counter. “I’ll take these too.”
“Do you want to check the china?” I lift the lid of the box, but he stops me with a touch of his hand to my wrist. The point of contact lights my skin on fire. I suck in a breath and our eyes collide.
He jerks his hand back, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. “No need.” The hand that set me aflame fists, releases, then fists again. “I trust they’re fine.”
“If you find anything wrong when you get back to the inn, just let me know.” I scan the candles and tea and bag them with the box.
He taps his credit card to the card reader, and I hand him the bag, careful not to let our fingers touch.
Not because I don’t want to feel the warmth of his skin, but because I don’t think I can withhold the need shooting through my core with another encounter.
He takes the bag and we stand, looking at each other for two beats of my heart. I want to say something, but I’m not sure what. Talking to someone I’m interested in has never been a problem. But the force of my reactions to this stranger hits me with more ferocity than I’m accustomed to.
“Okay. Well, thanks.” He holds the bag up and takes a couple of steps back, turning toward the door.
Pulse pounding in my temples and my panic elbowing its way to my chest, I blurt out, “How long are you in town?”
He halts mid-turn, and those gorgeous eyes hold me in their embrace. “Originally, I thought I’d be here for a week, but…” He glances around the store, his gaze landing on me. “There’s a lot to like here.”
“There’s a music festival in May. It’s a blast.” What the heck am I talking about? The music festival is at the end of May, almost a month and a half away. “And you can’t leave without seeing Mabel.”
“Who’s Mabel?” He takes a step away from the door, toward me.
The pressure in my chest loosens. “She’s our resident cryptid.
We have sightings all the time.” Feeling like I can breathe again, I’m determined to see Dmitri while he’s in town.
What do I have to lose? Okay, maybe my business, but he doesn’t seem like the type to be vindictive.
And I’ll make it clear this is a short-term hookup.
“Let me give you my number. I can show you around while you’re here.
” Show you around . Could I sound any creepier?
I lick my lips and add, “Only if you want, of course.”
“I’d love that,” he says, and I rattle off my number. A moment later, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. “Now you have mine, too.” His expression brightens with the soft smile he graces me with. He slips his phone back into his pocket and gives me a wave. “See you around.”
“See you.” Unable to wipe the goofy grin from my face, I watch that perfect bubble butt walk out the door.