Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Astrid
I glance down at the black and white checkered tile that covers the floor of Vinyl Crush.
I still remember when I first walked into this store with my mom.
At the time, I didn’t appreciate the treasures that surrounded me. All I saw, as a ten-year-old kid, was the floor. I hopscotched my way around the rows and rows of wooden stands that hold thousands of new and used vinyl records.
I skipped right past the listening booth in the corner and never glanced up at the ornate chandeliers on the ceiling.
If I could go back in time, I would have stopped and stared at my mom with her long blonde hair and green eyes that mirror my own.
The day she took possession of Vinyl Crush was one of the proudest days of her life, and I didn’t see it then.
I didn’t understand it until a few weeks before she died.
“I’m sorry I can’t hang around until closing time, but fashion calls,” Eloise says as she buttons the handmade pink knit cardigan she just slipped on. “I can work tomorrow for a few hours in the afternoon if you need me.”
I need another employee because I know I’m wearing Eloise thin.
She relies on the money she makes here to help cover the rent at the apartment she shares with two of her friends from school. She tops that off with sales of her handmade knit goods online.
Her future isn’t going to be found in this store. I have to start preparing myself for that.
“I can handle tomorrow too.” I smile before I offer an alternative that I know will fit her schedule better. “Do you want to come in on Saturday?”
“I’d love to.” She adjusts the collar of her cardigan. “I’ll pop by on Friday afternoon to help with online orders. I can put in a few hours then too.”
“Perfect.” I dip a hand into the front pocket of my jeans to tug out a few bills. “Stop and get yourself some dinner on the way home.”
She waves the money away. “One of my roommates is cooking a feast tonight, so I’m good. I can run and grab some take-out for you if you’re hungry.”
I have leftover take-out in my fridge, which just happens to be two floors up from where I’m standing. My apartment is above the record store. It’s another of the many things I inherited when my mom passed away.
“I have dinner covered.” I gesture toward the door of the shop. “You have things to knit. Get to it.”
Her laughter fills the air. “You’re the best boss ever, Astrid.”
“I’m the only boss you’ve ever had,” I point out.
“True, but still.” She moves to plant a soft kiss on my cheek. “I love you. Close up right at eight. Lock both deadbolts and text me before you go to sleep.”
“Will do, and I love you too.”
With that, she takes off in a sprint toward the door before she disappears into the foot traffic on the sidewalk outside the store.
I turn to glance at the front of the store when the bell above the door rings.
It’s almost six.
Since Eloise left an hour ago, I’ve been sorting through a large box of records that I bought from an online auction.
Several are already spoken for. Some of my regular clientele have long wish lists of records that they’ve been on the hunt for. Whenever I come across one, I set it aside for them.
Most of those customers have been shopping at Vinyl Crush since before my mom bought the store.
“Welcome to…” My voice trails when I catch sight of the man who just walked into my store.
It’s him.
It’s the handsome stranger from the subway platform yesterday.
He’s dressed in a dark blue suit, and his hair is slicked back, but it’s definitely him.
The sharp cut of his jaw and his striking blue eyes are unforgettable.
I’ll take a coincidence like this any day of the week.
“Hey, there,” he says as he approaches me.
He’s tall with broad shoulders and a five o’clock shadow that must feel like heaven when it brushes against a woman’s inner thighs.
I shake that thought away.
Being in a serious relationship doesn’t fit into my life right now, but I’m all for hooking up if the right guy comes along, especially if that guy looks like this.
“I’m Berk Morgan.” His hand reaches out to me.
I take it in mine without questioning why he’s introducing himself to me. “Astrid Rehn.”
“Astrid Rehn,” he repeats my name softly as though he wants to feel how it weighs on his tongue.
He smiles, and it’s life-altering.
That’s clearly an exaggeration, but he has one of those smiles that can chase every bad thought away, so only good things crowd your mind.
I shake myself out of the daze I dropped into when he walked in. “How can I help you, Mr. Morgan?”
“Berk,” he repeats his name. “I’m looking for something.”
“I have everything,” I say with a circle of my hand in the air. “Classical, jazz, country, pop. You name it. I have it.”
A low chuckle escapes him. “I’ll keep that in mind, but I believe we crossed paths yesterday on a subway platform.”
He’s here for me? This gorgeous Adonis who smells sinfully good is here to see me?
Hope brews inside of me.
The last man who wandered in here looking for me was three times my age with a comb over and a host of bad pickup lines. He had convinced himself that I was his soul mate after he heard me belt out one of my original ballads.
He followed me to work. Thankfully, he was harmless. He bought a dozen records, and I never saw him again.
I glance at Berk. Not wanting to seem too eager, I smile. “We might have.”
I suddenly wish I had skipped my standard black T-shirt with the Vinyl Crush logo, faded jeans, and black boots today. I should have worn my red dress with the plunging back. It would be overkill for this place, but it would leave him with a lasting impression.
“I dropped something in your guitar case by accident,” he says.
That sends my hope crashing back down to earth with all the grace of a bowling ball hitting the gutter.
“It’s a small diary key,” he goes on, “I think it got caught up in the change I tossed in your case.”
I move toward the checkout counter with quick steps. “I have it.”
“You do?” he asks from behind me, relief flooding his tone. “Thank Christ. My daughter told me her heart is locked in that diary. She’s desperate to have that key back.”
Daughter.
He’s a dad. He’s probably a husband too.
I grab the key from the drawer, and by the time I look up, he’s standing next to the counter.
As I move to give him the key, he opens his left palm.
No wedding ring, but that’s not confirmation that he’s single.
I drop the key into his hand. “There you go.”
His eyes catch mine. “You have no idea how much I appreciate the fact that you didn’t throw this in the trash.”
I pat the front of the drawer. “You’d be surprised how many things end up in my guitar case that shouldn’t be there.”
“Yeah?” He perks a brow. “Like what?”
I tug the drawer back open and start listing everything I spot. “Buttons, business cards, packages of gum, candies, condoms.”
I wince after ‘condoms’ falls from my lips. Draco is the one who always held onto those after I’d find them in my guitar case. I make a mental note to throw them away before the day is over.
Berk laughs. The sound is deep and masculine. “That’s quite the collection.”
Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I smile. “Busking is all about the treasures you collect.”
His gaze wanders to the large glass jar sitting on the checkout counter. He reads the label that Eloise taped to the front of it on the first of this month.
Every month she changes it out with a new label.
I explain what it is the way I always do before a customer can ask what they’re looking at. “I put my busking money in there. Once a month, I donate it to a charity. This month the money is going to a food pantry.”
“You donate all the money you earn busking?” His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that catches me off guard.
“Yes,” I answer softly.
He reaches into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, tugs out his wallet, and slides a few bills from it. He drops those in the jar. “Consider this a tip for that rendition of Happy Birthday you sang to Lester yesterday.”
I glance at the three hundred dollars he deposited in the jar. “You know Lester?”
“We met today.” His lips curl into a smile. “I went back to that subway stop to find you and recognized Lester as the birthday fellow you serenaded.”
I’ll have to thank Lester for sending Berk my way. Even if all I get from this is the chance to have a short chat with him, I know it will stay with me.
He’s by far the best-looking man I’ve ever crossed paths with.
“Thank you for the donation.” I tap the rim of the jar. “It’s very generous.”
He tilts his chin. “Thank you, Astrid, for saving this key. My little girl and I are forever grateful to you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He pats his palm on the counter. “I need to get home. It was good meeting you.”
“It was good to meet you too,” I say just as he turns to leave.
I watch him walk away feeling satisfied that, in a roundabout way, I brought some joy to the life of a nine-year-old girl today.