Chapter 5 #2
I feel the blush creep up my neck and avert my gaze for a moment while I try to collect my thoughts. “I was sad to lose, but the young woman who won deserved it. Do you remember Tabbi Smythe?”
“I do. She had dark hair and was friends with Lydia Johnston, who lives near the farm.”
“Yes, that’s her. To be honest, she made a great princess,” I tell him, diving back into the dishes to finish the trays.
He’s quiet for several seconds before breaking the silence. “You would have been better.”
Dropping my chin to my chest, I smile at his sweet words. Clearing my throat, I ask, “So what have you been up to, Burkey Turkey?”
He chuckles at my use of his nickname and grabs the dustpan to sweep up what’s on the floor. “I make furniture.”
I spin around, water dripping from my hands. “You make furniture? Seriously?”
With a slight grin, he nods in confirmation. “Mostly tables, like coffee tables, end tables, nightstands, and kitchen or dining room tables, but also beds, chairs, and bookshelves.”
“Wow, that’s way cool, Burkey Turkey. Can I see some of your stuff sometime?”
“Sure,” he replies with a shrug. “I have pictures on my phone.”
Returning my attention to finishing the dishes, I ask, “So what got you into that?”
“Well, when we moved to South Carolina, our next-door neighbor had a woodworking shop out behind his house. I often found myself over there, asking questions about the tools and machinery he had and about the different types of wood. I spent all my free time over there, soaking up every ounce of knowledge he offered. I made everything from shelves to signs and eventually small tables. I loved it, so when I graduated, I worked a couple of years for a local construction company and saved money to start buying my own tools and machinery and started making things for local craft shows and whatnot. I made a name for myself and eventually was able to quit the construction job and just make furniture full time.”
“Where do you sell your stuff?” I ask, completely enthralled.
“Mostly at a local furniture store there in town. I learned it was much easier to let them do the selling for me, so they purchase pieces at a slight discount and offer them in their store. It works out better for me because I don’t have to worry about staging and space.
They get first dibs, and if there’s something they don’t want, I post it online.
I’ve had very good luck that way. I do special order commissioned pieces too, especially around the holidays. ”
I release the drain plug and rinse out the sink. Grabbing a towel, I turn and prop my hip against the stainless steel, giving him my full attention. “That’s pretty badass, Burkey Turkey.”
“Thanks,” he replies, dumping what he’s cleaned up off the floor into the trash can.
“What’s your business called?” I have every intention of doing some online stalking later tonight.
He averts his gaze and blushes. Yes, blushes, like face on fire in full embarrassment mode blushing. “Uhh, it’s called Joyful Furnishings.”
My mouth drops open just a bit as I mull over his words. Is there some hidden meaning behind his business name? Do I want there to be a meaning? “That’s a cool name,” I mutter, my throat suddenly dry. What does this mean?
Burk flashes me an easy smile. “Thanks.” He glances toward the front of the bakery. “Shall I go and sweep up there?”
“Sure,” I reply, stealing a glance at his ass as he walks away.
Very nice ass.
I wasn’t kidding when I thought it was his best feature. His smile is a close second, but this ass? Could end wars in several countries.
Walking over to the speaker system, I flip it on and let the sounds of the season fill the space.
I love this time of year for so many reasons, and one of them is the fact I can play holiday music until the end of the year.
It’s my absolute favorite, especially when they play some of the classics.
Not that I don’t like all the new versions of Christmas music, but there’s nothing like hearing Andy Williams, Bing Crosby, and Frank Sinatra belt out the classics.
Grabbing the sanitation solution, I clean the inside of the display case and then spray down the glass with window cleaner.
As I work, I forget about Burk being here.
I hum along to the music and occasionally sing a few of my favorite lines from “Jingle Bells” and “Deck the Halls.” Eventually, I start to dance, shaking my hips and enjoying the hell out of the empty bakery.
When I spin around, that’s when I remember I’m not alone. Burk is leaning against one of the bistro tables, a soft smile on his face as he watches me. My face turns as red as Rudolph’s nose as he extends the hand holding the broom. “Broom mic?”
I burst out laughing and shake my head. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” I tell him, returning my attention to cleaning the counter, even though it was done as we closed down. “You know, if you’re here, you’d be expected to join as a backup singer.”
His face falls. “I couldn’t just be a fan in the front row? Or maybe a groupie?”
My head is already shaking. “Nope, it’s backup or nothing, Burkey Turkey.”
“Well, maybe another time. I really should practice first, or maybe stretch or something?”
I double over in a fit of laughter. “Stretch? I’m not asking you to run the fifty-yard dash. I’ll even get you the mop.”
He just stands there and smiles, and my God, that smile.
It could disarm Santa Claus of all his toys on Christmas Eve, that’s for sure.
Or maybe it just has some sort of magical powers to disarm me.
Lord knows it does things to my body that I’m not accustomed to, especially by someone I consider a friend.
He shrugs his strong shoulders and returns his attention to his sweeping.
Twenty minutes later, all the cleaning is complete, and the bakery is officially ready to close up for the day. “Thank you for your help,” I say, hanging the mop to dry on the hook.
“You’re very welcome,” he replies, walking over to the counter where he left his coat.
While he slips it on, I yawn as exhaustion hits me hard. Now that the bakery is clean, my body realizes it’s been up since four this morning and is ready for bed. “Sorry,” I mutter, trying to cover up my second yawn.
“You’re tired. I’ll let you get upstairs to bed,” he replies, zipping his coat.
I follow him as he makes his way to the front entrance, which is still unlocked from our arrival earlier.
That’s one of the beautiful things about Snowflake Falls.
It’s incredibly safe, and while I know I should have locked up behind us, I felt comfortable leaving it unlocked, but only because we were right here.
“Thanks for your help tonight.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, stepping out onto the sidewalk, hands shoved in his pockets. Just before he turns to head to where he parked his vehicle, he asks, “Hey, Easy-Bake?”
“Yes?”
“Do you want to have dinner with me?”
My heart starts to pound a little harder in my chest. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he replies casually, but I can tell he seems to be relieved. “Can I call or text you?”
I nod, fighting not to smile.
“Do you have the same number?” he asks, his brown eyes shining a little brighter under the streetlights.
“I do.”
He nods and flashes a grin. “I’ll reach out.”
Drawing my bottom lip between my teeth, I nod, feeling giddy like a schoolgirl when the boy you have a crush on talks to you. “All right.”
“Have a good night, Easy-Bake.”
“You too. Drive safe.”
He heads down the sidewalk and rounds the corner, and my eyes follow him as far as they can before he disappears. On his ass, of course. It is one of his best assets.
Closing and securing the door, I turn the lights off and make my way to the back stairwell that leads to my apartment.
With a ridiculous smile on my face, I wonder if I’ll get any sleep tonight.
Something tells me my thoughts and dreams will be consumed by a certain man with a disarming smile and an ass that makes me want to drop to my knees and beg for mercy.
I still don’t exactly know what this dinner invitation means. Is it just two friends catching up, or does it hold a little more meaning?
My mind says one thing, but my heart is hoping for the other.
I suppose time will tell.