Chapter 7
LORI HAD JUST FINISHED PAINTING one wall in her childhood bedroom in her parents’ old house when her cell rang. She dabbed her hands on a drop cloth and picked up Marci’s call.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Marci said, “but I’m really not feeling well. I thought I could stick it out, but I feel like I’m going to puke any second.”
Lori winced. “Sorry you’re sick. I’ll head over right now. If you need to just leave, lock the door. It won’t be a big deal if the place is locked up for a short time.”
“Thank you,” Marci said in a strained voice. “Sorry again.”
Then she was gone, and Lori turned to survey her latest round of painting. She’d decided to paint all of the walls in the house a mellow taupe color. Everly and Austin had done a walk-through and suggested a few easy updates in order to make the house more appealing to buyers. “Easy” was a relative word. Well, okay, painting was easy in general, but very time consuming if one wanted to do it right.
Lori closed up the paint can, cleaned the roller, then headed out of the house.
By the time she got to the store, Marci was gone—which Lori was grateful for. She sent a quick text. I’m at the store now. Hope you feel better soon.
She unlocked the door, and once inside, straightened a few things. It was the usual two p.m. lull in the store when no none came in. The morning shoppers were long gone, and the lunch rush over with. In about an hour, with school getting out, more shoppers would come. Teenagers included. Most would browse. If they bought anything, it would be something like a spider ring, or a bag of candy.
With Marci not around, things were quiet save for the music track of Halloween songs and the occasional rumble of construction machinery across the street.
Speaking of construction . . . it had been two weeks since Lori had seen Malcom. Not that she was exactly keeping track. Oh, she’d caught a glimpse of him a time or two—when she was peering out her shop window, or even her apartment window on the second floor. But those had been happenstance sightings. He seemed really busy. Always moving about the job site, talking to people, going in and out of the trailer. She still marveled that he slept there.
A couple times when she’d awakened in the middle of the night to get a drink, she’d glanced out the window to see that there was a light on inside the trailer. Did he never sleep? Or did he sleep with the light on? That thought made her giggle.
Her friends had finally stopped pestering her about the drive home from the cabin. Her story remained the same each time they’d asked, so they’d eventually moved on to other topics.
Lori moved about the store, aimlessly straightening things while she let her mind wander. On the drive home from the cabin, Malcom took only about fifteen minutes to repair the gate. He didn’t have to buy a new latch after all. So she was back at her store in a short time. They hadn’t exchanged numbers or anything, and why should they?
Lori paused by the front window. There was some extra activity going on across the way. People in regular clothes approaching the trailer.
Malcom stepped out the door and lifted a hand in greeting, then descended the few steps. There were two women with a man, and they all stood around talking for a few moments.
Lori stepped back from the window; she really shouldn’t be watching, or spying. But she continued anyway.
One of the women moved closer to Malcom and put her hand on his arm. He smiled at her, but even from this distance, Lori could tell it was strained. The woman was dressed to the nines in a lavender suit, blonde hair waving down her back, three-inch-minimum high heels that were red.
The other man and the other woman walked toward the building site, hand in hand. So they were together. But blondie lingered with Malcom, and they seemed to be in a vigorous discussion. Lori’s curiosity only grew.
When the man turned back to motion toward Malcom, she saw the resemblance. Several things clicked into place. The man was his brother, Bronson, and that must be the brother’s wife, Kari.
Lori’s mind spun, trying to keep the relationships in order. The blonde woman giving her full attention to Malcom had to be Penny.
And if Lori wasn’t mistaken, Penny was very, very interested in Malcom.
At that moment, he put some distance between him and Penny as he followed after his brother. She did her best to keep up in those heels of hers.
Lori turned away. None of this was her business. She did feel a little sorry for Malcom, but he could handle his own family. He’d been doing it a while. She moved to the counter, where she arranged Halloween lollipops on a graveyard display. The lollipops were surprisingly popular. Maybe not too surprising. Lori loved them as well. She unwrapped one and popped it into her mouth. One of the benefits of being the store owner, she supposed.
She’d bought this store about six months ago, and every day she was grateful. That should say something, right? She could make good choices, after all, that didn’t fall under the circle of her parents. Her dad had owned the hardware store most of her life, and when he sold it, Lori had felt out of sorts. She’d been working there since she was a kid—doing odd jobs at first, then given a more official position after a couple years at a community college.
She’d always thought she might take over the store one day.
Instead, her dad sold it, and said if he didn’t, he’d never be able to truly retire. He’d invested a portion of the sale into her own shop. Then her parents were off to Florida. They hadn’t invited her to move with them. Okay, so she should admit it—living with her parents in Everly Falls had been convenient, but not ideal. And maybe it had taken them moving out of state, and wanting to sell their house, to finally get a place of her own.
If that had been their plan, it had worked.
It also, she realized now, might have caused some of her dating hangups. Living with her parents didn’t exactly equate to any romantic nights. But none of that had happened anyway, even once she was on her own. So she couldn’t blame her living situation any longer.
Speaking of parents . . . her phone rang, and her mom’s number lit up the screen. Lori knew better than to ignore the call if she could help it. Her mom only called when there was an emergency—most of which could be taken with a grain of salt. A few days ago, she had called because she’d lost her credit card. What was Lori supposed to do about it?
Regardless, her mom had been in a panic, so Lori looked up the credit card company’s number for her and sent it over. She’d been tempted to tell her it was a good thing for Dad to help out with, but he was terrible at financial stuff and would think there was some sort of conspiracy theory working against them if the credit company asked Mom to verify some personal data.
Okay, maybe Lori was really grateful that she no longer lived with her parents.
“Hi, Mom,” she answered in a cheerful tone, even though her stomach had tightened with trepidation.
“Oh, thank goodness you answered,” her mom said. “I got the strangest text about the post office delivering something, but they didn’t have my address. Dad told me to call and see if you’ve sent us anything?”
Lori swallowed back a sigh. “Mom, if it were me, I’d have your address. The text is a scam. Remember the last one you got from UPS?”
“Yeah, but this was from USPS—they’re different, honey.”
“It’s still a scam.”
“Are you sure?” her mom pressed.
“I’m sure,” Lori insisted. “Just delete it. Don’t open the link or give out any information to a random number, no matter what they claim.”
“I know, you’re right.” Her mom paused. “How is everything going?”
“Just busy at the store—Halloween is coming up.”
“Oh, of course. Any updates on your dating life?”
Lori closed her eyes for a second. “No updates.” Her mom didn’t need to ask the same question every phone call. “If there’s a change, I’ll let you know. I should run—the school crowd will be here soon.”
She hung up, hoping that her mom would stop taking scam texts seriously. But Lori was glad she had called anyway. She picked up the lollipop again.
The bell over the door jangled, and Lori looked over to see Malcom. His tall frame filled the doorway, and he looked a bit hesitant. When their gazes met, he stepped across the threshold. “Hey.”
She popped the lollipop out of her mouth. “Hey.”
“You open?” He looked around at the empty store.
“Yeah, of course.” She glanced at the witch-hat clock on the wall. “Just kind of the dead hour.”
“Sorry I’ve been kind of a stranger,” he said, moving toward the counter where she stood. His navy ball cap hooded his hazel eyes. Everything else was his usual attire—T-shirt, well-worn jeans, and boots. “I mean, you’ve been a stranger too.”
Why was her pulse jumping about? And they were strangers—mostly. They’d had a few conversations, but she didn’t expect them to continue. She didn’t think they’d start hanging out or anything. “I’ve been busy, and I’m guessing you’ve been swamped.”
“Yeah.” He looked about the store again, and she almost laughed.
“I mean, I’m not busy at this exact moment,” Lori clarified. “But there’s always something to organize or restock. Plus, in about twenty minutes, this place will be crawling with teenagers.”
Malcom leaned a hand on the counter between them. “Oh, I believe you. I came at this time on purpose.”
She raised her brows at this. “Because you knew it was the dead hour?”
“I can be observant sometimes.” His voice was a low rumble, and her pulse leapt again. His gaze shifted from her face to her clothing. “I like your shirt.”
Lori looked down, even though she knew which shirt she wore: I’m Only a Witch in the Mornings.
“And your earrings,” he added.
She smiled and touched the miniature black-and-purple witch hats. “They match the shirt.”
His gaze roamed her face, and something in his eyes told her he approved. His scrutiny made her pulse jump. Soon, she’d be blushing.
“Have you been painting?” he asked.
How can he tell? Then Lori saw the paint streaks on her left wrist. “Oh.” She rubbed at it, making the paint flecks fall off. “Yeah. I was painting my old bedroom at my parents’ house. Decided to go with one color for the whole house—you know, instead of the green in my parents’ bedroom, the pink in my room, and the yellow in the kitchen.”
Malcom smiled, which showed off his dimples. “Color brings personality to the house.”
“Yeah, tell that to a real estate agent.”
He folded his arms. “You know, I could help out. Painting, or whatever else.”
The thought of asking him to hook up the new light fixture crossed her mind, but she shook it away. He was swamped with his own job. “In all your spare time?”
He winced. “Yeah, you and me both.”
Lori set a hand on her hip. “So, can I help you find anything? Want to decorate your trailer? Pick up some candy for trick-or-treaters?”
“No . . .” He glanced around again, then licked his lips.
Was he . . . nervous?
When his gaze landed on hers, she had the sudden urge to push up the brim of his ball cap to better see his eyes.
“I wanted to ask . . .” He exhaled. “To ask if you’re available tomorrow night to go to a gala thing with me. It wouldn’t be a date. I mean, you would be my date, but not like a date-date.”
Lori stared at him. What was he talking about? “What kind of gala?”
“Oh. Yeah.” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Our company is getting some industry award and, uh, we’re all going. Me, my brother and his wife, and her sister Penny. I thought . . .”
Lori waited.
He cleared his throat. “Sorry. This is kind of awkward and embarrassing, but Penny is, um, very assertive in her interest toward me. Bronson thinks it’s all a riot, so he’s no help. If I show up without a date to this gala, and there’s drinking and dancing . . .” His voice trailed off again.
“Penny will be all over you?”
His face flushed, and Lori wanted to laugh. She didn’t though. She’d never imagined that this sturdy, confident man could be cowed by a flirtatious sister-in-law.
Lori folded her arms. “Why don’t you just tell her you’re not interested?”
He moved one of his hands to his neck and rubbed the back of it. “It’s not that simple. I mean, it should be that simple, and I’ve told her in the most casual ways I can think of. I can’t be rude or hurt her feelings—directly, that is—because she has kind of a history.”
This caught Lori’s attention. Well, everything he was talking about had her full attention. “Like what?”
“She’s one of those women who goes a little bananas if she doesn’t get her way,” he said, his voice quieting as if someone might overhear. “She keyed one of her ex’s cars. She also destroyed the cell phone of another ex. But that’s not what I’m worried about—some minor property damage. I don’t want to mess up the dynamics of our company. At least not yet.”
“So you need her to like you, but not stalk you?”
Malcom laughed, some of the tension leaving him. “Something like that.”
Lori frowned though. “What do you mean— not yet .”
He rested both of his hands on the counter. “I’ve been thinking about breaking out of the company and doing my own thing. It’s been a great ride and everything, and I’m grateful for the chance to work with my brother.” His gaze fell. “There are some things though—red flags, maybe—and as soon as this condo project wraps up, I’m going to tell my brother that I’m setting out on my own.”
“Red flags? Like what?” Lori lifted a hand. “Never mind. I don’t mean to be so nosy.”
He gazed at her for a moment, as if battling over how much to say. “Mostly financial stuff. I haven’t gone so far as to request an audit though. When I look at the numbers, it all appears to be legit. But Bronson owns multiple homes. How does he pay for all of them? We’re on the same salary. Even with his wife helping out part-time, none of us are millionaires.”
Lori didn’t know how to answer, and she wouldn’t be able to understand the complications of his business. “Brandy is an accountant,” she said. “You know, if you want someone to look at the numbers off the record.”
Malcom’s brows shot up. “Do you think she’d do it? I mean, off the record?”
“Probably,” Lori said, although she wasn’t expecting him to jump all over her suggestion. “She thinks you’re pretty great. I mean, despite the fact that you haven’t proposed to me.”
His smile appeared. “It would be amazing if she agreed. I mean, I hope there’s nothing to find, but peace of mind would be nice.”
“I’m sure.” The store phone rang, but Lori sent it to voicemail.
“Do you need to get that?”
“No, I’ll call back if they leave a message.”
Malcom nodded. “So, about the gala. What do you think?”
“It’s tomorrow night?”
“Yeah, I’d pick you up around six, and then the thing will probably be a couple of hours.” He paused, his smile tentative, his eyes hopeful. “The food should be decent, if nothing else.”
She smiled, liking how he was acting all nervous again. “What’s the dress code?”
“Uh, black tie?”
“You sound uncertain.”
“We can go more casual if you want,” he said, shifting his stance. “I know this is last minute. If you have to buy something, I’ll pay.”
She stared at him. “You’d buy me a formal dress just to get Penny out of your hair?”
He gave her a sheepish look. “Yeah. I mean, how much do those formals cost?”
“There’s a wide range.” Lori laughed. “Don’t worry. I have something that will work. It’s black, simple, but floor length.”
“Sounds perfect to me,” Malcom said, relief evident in his voice. “And I wouldn’t expect any color other than black.”
Lori just smiled at him. She kind of liked his teasing.
He rested his elbows on the counter, leaning closer. “And the earrings? Will they be Halloween-themed?”
“Is it October?”
He grinned and straightened. “Thanks so much, Lori. I mean it. I’ll see you tomorrow night, then?”
“Yeah.” She knew this wasn’t him really asking her out, but her pulse was celebrating anyway.
“Okay, great.” He tapped the counter, then hesitated. “Should we swap numbers? I mean, in case something comes up?”
It was all in innocence and, of course, smart. “Sure.” After they exchanged numbers, Lori watched him walk out of the store. She had to tear her gaze away before he reached the sidewalk though, the door swinging shut behind him—just in case he looked back. She didn’t want to be caught staring after him.
For the next twenty-four hours, it was all she could think about—going to the gala with Malcom. By Saturday afternoon, her stomach had tied itself into knots. She couldn’t even finish the lunch she’d ordered in.
Feeling better, Marci said she’d do the closing so Lori could head upstairs to get ready around five p.m. Lori had told her she was going with a friend to a gala, not mentioning it was a male friend. Marci would figure it out soon enough, but Lori didn’t want to risk any gossip happening because then her friend group would find out. And no, she hadn’t said anything to them yet. She’d tell them after. When she had answers to the millions of questions they’d ask.
Five p.m. seemed to take forever to arrive, but when it did, Lori realized she needed more time to get ready. She’d underestimated the state of her hair, and it really needed to be washed. That would add on time that Lori didn’t really have. Should she text Malcom that she’d be late? Or could she rush through everything else?
In the end, she didn’t text him advance warning, but at 5:55 p.m. she finally pulled out her phone. I’m going to need ten more minutes. When I see your truck, I’ll come down. This is Lori, btw.
His reply came a few seconds later. No problem. This is Malcom, btw .
Lori laughed, but it was more of a shaky laugh. And it wasn’t ten minutes more. It was more like twenty minutes.
She could see Malcom waiting in his truck in front of the shop. Patiently. He hadn’t even texted to ask if she was ready yet.
One last check in the mirror, and Lori decided everything was as good as it would get. She’d curled waves into her normally straight hair, and added more makeup than she usually wore. She’d hesitated over her earring choice, but finally settled on small silver pumpkins. Someone would have to look closely to determine what they actually were.
Finally, she couldn’t delay any longer, and she headed down the stairs, holding one side of her gown up, balancing on her black heeled shoes. That was the only thing she’d probably regret tonight—choosing the shoes that might look the best with the dress, but would certainly hurt her feet if she was on them too much.
“Wow,” Marci said as Lori entered the shop. “You look amazing. And you didn’t tell me your friend was the builder.”
Lori only smiled. “Thanks for closing up. Let me know if there are any issues. Otherwise, I’ll see you Monday.”
Marci’s brows skyrocketed. “Um, I won’t be able to wait that long for a report on your evening.”
“We’re going as friends, that’s all. This is more of a favor, you know. A plus one to some awards gala.”
Marci didn’t look convinced, but she waved a hand. “Better hurry. Prince Charming has been trapped in his truck for like twenty minutes.”
Lori’s heart skipped a beat, and she glanced at the clock. So it had been nineteen minutes . . . nineteen minutes past her ten-minute grace period. Well, there was nothing to be done now.
She headed out of the shop, and before she could reach the passenger side, Malcom had climbed out of the truck and walked around the front. Lori had known he’d look great in a tuxedo, but wow. She’d have to remember to keep her eyes on his face. He opened the door for her, his gaze trained on her.
“Nice earrings.”
Lori couldn’t help it—she laughed. “Thanks. And nice tux. You clean up well.”
The edge of his mouth lifted. “Thanks, and you look beautiful. Your dress is nice too.”
A sigh rippled through Lori, and she moved to climb into the seat. It was a bit too high for her fitted dress. Malcom grasped her hand and helped her inside.
“It’s going to be hard pretending this isn’t a real date,” he said, his voice low.
Before she could answer, he shut the door. What had he meant? That he wanted this to be a real date? No, she told herself. She couldn’t let her mind go there.