Chapter Seven #2
Even if Glamma had roped me into this, I wasn't about to abandon the animals at the shelter because I couldn’t stand Ruby River’s human spreadsheet.
ME: I can do that.
THEO: Great. Marc was able to clear his schedule from 11:00-3:00 today. Does that work for you?
Of course we were using his schedule. Typical.
Heat rose into my neck, and I forced my shoulders down, and unclenched my jaw.
Good thing I didn’t have appointments today.
ME: Yup. I can make that work.
I eased my phone into my back pocket and headed downstairs to the shop below.
A thirty-second commute was one of the few blessings life had tossed my way lately. Sacred Serenity sat beneath my apartment like an anchor.
Yesterday, I’d gone to the floral shop to pick up the lavender that had been potted for me. I still hadn’t found the right spot in the store since I needed to hide the side the goat had torn through. I wondered if I’d see it at the shelter today.
When I pushed open the door that separated the shop from the staircase heading to my apartment, calmness settled within me. The faint scent of the candles, incense, and herbs for sale greeted me like a warm, familiar hug.
Cheryl looked up from behind the counter, her smile immediate. “How are you doing this morning?”
I shrugged. “Eh.”
Her smile didn’t falter, but her eyes sharpened. My friend leaned a hip against the counter and crossed her arms. “What happened?”
“Why does anything need to happen for me to feel eh?” I asked, even though I knew she’d see right through me.
Her expression confirmed my suspicion.
I heaved a sigh, deep and dramatic. “Fine. Theo texted me. Marc wants to meet at the shelter today to start planning.”
“Ahh,” she said, drawing out that one word. “Marc.”
I sighed again. “Yes. Marc.”
“I know we’ve only been friends for a few months, and I don’t know the whole history between the two of you,” she gave me a pointed look that said, spill soon, “but this animosity seems … intense.”
A flash of heat sparked in my belly, threatening to flare and surge up into my chest.
“It’s not too much,” I snapped. “You have no idea what he put me through when we were kids. He has no concept of knowing when to shut his mouth. You saw him at the town hall meeting. Like that was him on his best behavior. I have a whole lifetime of him correcting me like I’m some kind of—of–,” I cut myself off, breath sharp.
“Like I’m an inconvenience. Or too stupid to live. ”
Cheryl’s hands lifted in surrender. “Hey, I’m on your side, remember?”
I sucked in a breath, held it, and slowly let it out. Inhale. Exhale. “I know,” I muttered. “I’m sorry. I’m frustrated with him. Not you.”
Cheryl moved around the counter and opened her arms.
I stepped into her embrace without hesitation.
She held me tight. Her hands rubbed slow circles up my spine, and my body sagged into it like it had been waiting all morning for someone to tell me I wasn’t doing everything wrong.
“I poked the bear too early,” she murmured in my ear. “Did you have coffee yet?”
I nodded, my throat tight. I wasn’t ready to let go.
The sadness about Aunt Jem still lingered at the edges of my thoughts, in the tension of my shoulders, in the tightness behind my eyes.
“Any chance you got a good night’s sleep in an actual bed?” she asked softly.
I heaved a sigh for the third time.
“I’ll take that as a no,” she said, her voice gentled even more. “I’m here for when you’re ready to go through her stuff. Whether it’s her bedroom or if you want to clear out space in the smaller room where she stored the rest of her things, just let me know.”
“I know.” The words came out quieter than I’d intended. “Thank you.”
I pulled back, already missing her comfort. Cheryl’s presence had become its own kind of medicine—different from what Aunt Jem offered, but still healing.
Cheryl had worked for my aunt for a year before she passed.
We’d always been friendly, but it wasn’t until I took over the store that our friendship formed for real.
First through shared grief then through the quiet moments of choosing each other.
She had been a godsend when I was trying to wrap up my life in Seattle to move to Ruby River permanently.
“What time do you need to be there?” Cheryl asked.
I glanced at my phone. “Eleven. Which means I have time to do some admin work now and inventory later. I also want to go through the classes we’re offering to see what I need to adjust.”
She nodded. “Okay. Don’t forget I have to leave by four-thirty to get to my marketing class tonight.”
I opened the door to the small office behind the counter, leaving it open. “And how’s that going?”
Cheryl pulled a chair up to the desk I was sitting behind. “Okay. I hate that it’s taking me so long to finish this degree. Sometimes I wonder if I’m making a mistake.”
That was unusual. Cheryl didn’t second-guess herself. Ever.
I set my hands on the desk and gave her my full attention. “What do you mean?”
“Business is such a general degree.”
“True,” I said carefully, waiting for her to continue.
“It’s just … I need to get an internship next semester. And I don’t want to do it in a stuffy office. And I need to figure it out fast because the summer term begins in a few weeks.” She glanced at me. “What would you think about me doing it here?”
Relief and panic hit me at the same time.
“I mean—yes,” I said. “Obviously I want you here, but could I still pay you your hourly wage?” A slight worry crossed my mind. If her hours went above twenty a week, I wasn’t sure how I’d make that work.
“You wouldn’t have to pay me more than you already do,” she said immediately.
Cheryl was perceptive. She knew I was barely keeping my head above water.
“Okay,” I breathed. “That would help. You know I’d pay you more if I could.”
“I do.” She leaned back, then hesitated—an expression so unlike her that my stomach tightened.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Your brother?” I asked. Cheryl had become guardian to her teenage brother after their mom passed, and I’d watched her carry responsibility like it was woven into the fabric of her being.
“Oh, God, no.” She shook her head. “He’s fine. We’re both fine.”
Relief flooded my chest. “Oh, good. You scared me.”
She took a breath, then said, “What would you think of taking on a business partner?”
My stomach flipped. Having a business partner to share the expenses and daily load would be a tremendous gift. Hope surged—bright, reckless. Then fear slammed into it. Because if Cheryl tied herself to Sacred Serenity and I failed … I’d be dragging her down with me.
“I …” My voice caught. “You know I’d love that, but I’m not even paying myself at this point.”
Cheryl leaned forward and rested her elbows on the desk.
“I know that. But what if we push social media like bigger than ever? Start online orders. I’ve been stalking businesses like ours—what content they use, what they sell, how they package their products.
I know you were planning to buy stuff today, but what if we decide together?
Let’s get strategic with what moves the bottom line.
Then we plan a marketing strategy this week, and implement it next week? ”
I blinked at her. “You’ve given this a lot of thought.”
She nodded. “I have. I love this place as much as you do. I believe in everything your aunt started. I know with what you’ve added and some intentional tweaks, we can make this work.”
A warmth spread through my chest. Aunt Jem would’ve loved hearing this.
“I’d love to give that a shot,” I said, meaning it. “But …” I exhaled a laugh without humor. “I’d hate for you to put money in and then neither of us are getting paid.”
“We’ll do projections. A solid business plan. And it’s not for you to worry about whether I have a salary right now.”
“But your brother—”
“Is my responsibility,” she said firmly. “He has time. We’re getting by with the money our mom left. This gives us time to grow our empire and become the badass boss bitches I know we are.”
I couldn’t stop the laugh that burst out of my mouth, startling me at how good it felt to laugh like that. “We are pretty badass,” I admitted.
“You know it.”
I studied her face, searching for uncertainty. “Are you sure? Like … really really sure?”
She nodded. “It feels right. And if there’s anything Jem taught me, it was to follow my intuition.”
Just her name, said that simply, and my throat closed before I could stop it.
“Okay,” I said, my voice thick. “Then let’s plan it out.”
I stretched my hand across the desk. Cheryl placed hers on top of mine.
“If this becomes too much,” I said, “or not what you need—you tell me. You can back out at any time before we sign anything.”
“Okay,” she promised, squeezing my hand.
Then she grinned, bright and unstoppable. “This is going to be freaking amazing!”
My heart fluttered in my chest.
It was terrifying how much I wanted that to be true.
Cheryl stood. “I should get back out there.”
I groaned. “Unfortunately, these bills won’t pay themselves.”
“Better you than me,” she teased.
I tossed a crumpled piece of paper at her retreating back. “If this plan works, soon it will be your problem, too.”
Her laughter followed her out of the office.
I worked for the next few hours catching up on emails, paying bills, and pulling inventory documents. I didn’t miss the email Cheryl sent with a preliminary business plan attached.
Butterflies erupted in my stomach. There was no one else I could imagine doing this with. And if I was honest—if I let myself admit it—it would be nice not to carry this place alone. Yet, a small part of me wondered if I was letting Aunt Jem down by not being able to do this myself.
Soon after Cheryl’s email, another one came in.
From Marc.
Subject: Animal Yoga — Preliminary Guidelines and Outline
I stared at it like it had slapped me in the face. When I searched for the earlier email he referenced, my stomach tightened. Sent at 5:00 am.
Did the man ever sleep?
Of course, it was detailed. Of course, it had bullet points. Of course, it was practically a dissertation on “How To Do Yoga With Animals Without Getting Bitten.”
It was annoyingly competent.
Which was, unfortunately, on brand for him.
I typed a one-line response—short, neutral, adult—and pressed send before I could sabotage myself.
A loud sound blasted through the silence, and my entire body jolted, and my heart slammed against my ribs. I reached over to my phone to shut off the offending alarm.
“Okay,” I muttered, pressing a hand to my sternum. “We’re fine. It’s all fine.”
It was time to go meet him.
I grabbed my keys, called a goodbye to Cheryl, and headed out the back door to where my car was parked behind the store. The day was sunny and bright, and the earlier chill was gone. I cracked the window as I drove, and with each mile of listening to the wind whisper through it, I felt lighter.
Today was going to be great.
Little did he know that I planned on being early.
Petty? Sure.
But if Marc thought he was going to run this whole event as his own personal dictatorship, he had another think coming.
I turned the corner and pulled into the shelter lot, and my satisfaction bloomed instantly.
I was a whole thirty minutes early.
I killed the engine and stepped out, smoothing my sweater down with a sense of satisfaction, and the air of stepping into a formal gathering.
The front door opened, and my smile broadened—ready to say hi to Theo or one of the volunteers, or literally anyone who wasn’t—
Marc.
He stepped outside.
And my smile died.
My nemesis, looking way too nice in dark jeans and a fitted long-sleeve Henley that sent my brain in a direction that was wildly unhelpful. Sunlight caught in his dirty-blond curls, and his tortoiseshell glasses sat low on his nose—pushed down while reading, probably.
He looked up and our eyes met. Heat sparked in my chest and lower —a throbbing, traitorous warmth that made no sense and immediately pissed me off. My skin prickled. I hated that he could affect me like this just by existing.
Then he glanced at his watch, and back at me, like I was late. “You’re early,” he said, his gaze stayed on me like it always does—neutral and controlled. It was infuriating.
I adjusted the strap of my purse. “So are you.”
The air between us crackled with that specific static charge before a storm. I wanted to push his glasses up his nose to see if he’d flinch. I wanted to call him Marcus and watch him bristle. I wanted a lot of things I had no business wanting, and zero intention of examining right now.
“Did you read the guidelines?” he asked.
“Of course I did,” I lied smoothly, holding his gaze.
His eyes narrowed a fraction—just enough to tell me he was pretty sure I hadn’t. But not one hundred percent sure. Good. Let him be thrown off.
I smiled sweetly.
His shoulders didn’t move, but something in his expression shifted—so small most people wouldn’t notice. I was not most people, and a twisted sense of satisfaction warmed my chest. “Anything else you need from me, Marcus?” I said, giving in to my petty side.
Oh, yes. That definitely got under his skin.
He blinked once, slowly. “I prefer Marc,” he said, voice clipped.
I shrugged, feigning innocence. “Right. Marc. Sorry.”
He stared at me, possibly deciding whether or not I was worth arguing with. The answer was obviously a hard no, but he still had to work with me, and I was going to make sure he didn’t forget that.
I took a step closer, lifting my chin. “Let’s get this over with.”
His gaze dropped—briefly—to my mouth, just long enough to be impossible to ignore.
My breath hitched. I hated him. I also hated how my pulse had picked up—the pre-stage, about-to-speak-in-public-with-a-huge-audience type of cadence, which had nothing to do with public speaking, and everything to do with the fact that he was standing approximately fourteen inches away and smelling unreasonably good.
His eyes lifted again, cool and composed as if the past few minutes hadn’t happened at all.
I realized, with a slow sinking feeling, this was going to be a very long day.
Why did it have to be him?