8
“ I ncoming,” Riley warned, her voice low as she turned her back and started randomly straightening the magazines in front of her register—anything to look busy.
Noah stiffened, his hands automatically clenching around the edge of the checkout stand as he fought the urge to turn around. Meeting this problem head-on wouldn’t make any difference.
“Campbell!” Simon bellowed from somewhere behind him. “If you let one more cart go out that door without your hands on it, I will personally hang you from the rafters in the deep freezer!”
Heat rose in Noah’s neck, and he took a long, slow breath before turning to face his manager.
He’d lost track of the number of times he’d been yelled at that afternoon; it was almost like Simon had a reprimand quota and only four hours left to meet it.
“I’ve offered to help every customer, sir,” Noah answered, nearly choking on the last word. “Sometimes they say no.”
Simon gaped, peering up at Noah through close-set eyes that made him look a little like a ferret—a very ugly, very sweaty ferret. “I don’t care what they say!” he screeched. “You walk them out anyway!”
A vision of Olivia flashed across Noah’s mind, and her voice taunted him from months before. “But isn’t running off with someone’s groceries sort of like stealing?” he asked.
Simon planted his hands on his hips as a pair of obvious armpit stains inched their way across his white polo shirt.
“It’s the Watson’s way,” he hissed, “and you’d do well to remember where you work before you don’t work here anymore.
” He jammed his index finger into Noah’s breastbone, punctuating each word as he spoke. “Every. Cart. Got that?”
Noah glanced down the bridge of his nose, eyeing the smaller man’s finger where it still rested against his vest. “Yes, sir,” he answered tightly, and Simon’s eyes widened, as if he’d just realized the young man he was bullying had at least four inches on him.
“Good,” he snapped, though his voice was slightly higher than before. He opened his mouth again, like he had something else to say, but apparently thought better of it. Instead, he turned and stalked toward his office before stepping inside and slamming the door behind him.
Noah closed his eyes and finally let out the breath that had been lodged in his chest. It’s not a you thing, it’s a him thing , he chanted to himself, remembering the mantra that had gotten him through high school. The demon had been different then, but the context felt the same.
“He shouldn’t lay into you like that,” Riley said, reminding him where he was standing. “That last customer only had a box of tampons and a bottle of Advil, it’s not like she needed your help—or probably wanted it, for that matter.”
Noah made a conscious effort to relax his jaw. “But it’s the Watson’s way,” he parroted with disgust. He was already counting the days until he could toss his name tag in the trash and walk out those front doors without looking back.
But, until then, he was stuck.
“I need more snakes,” he muttered darkly, and Riley gave him a stern look.
“You need to keep your head down,” she corrected. “The snakes only aggravated his chihuahua complex.”
Noah coughed out a surprised laugh. “His what ?”
“His chihuahua complex. You know, when a short guy wants to be the big man on campus, so he snaps at everyone’s ankles and barks until somebody kicks him? Like a chihuahua.”
Noah felt a reluctant smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “I think you mean a Napoleon complex,” he said.
Riley waved her hand dismissively. “Chihuahuas make more sense. Besides, that’s exactly what he looks like with those beady little eyes.”
Noah shook his head and wiped one hand down his face, then he glanced toward the still-closed door of Simon’s office. “What are we going to do for the next two hours?” he asked.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m going to redo all the things I’ve done in the last thirty minutes and look like I am very, very busy until closing.
It’s not like anyone’s shopping right now,” Riley answered.
Then she put a new bag in the trash can behind her cashier’s stand, even though the old one wasn’t full.
Noah looked around and confirmed there were no customers in sight.
Simon would probably find a way to make that his fault, too, even though nobody in their right mind was still grocery shopping after 8 p.m. on New Year’s Eve.
He sighed. If he didn’t find something to do with his hands, he’d either be sent home early or, in Simon’s current mood, fired—and neither option was good for his bank account.
“I’ll get the broom,” he muttered, and then he headed toward the supply closet at the back of the store. He’d made it halfway down aisle four before someone called his name.
“Noah!”
He turned toward the sound and saw Misty, one of the young women who worked in the bakery, hurrying past the oatmeal display.
He sighed inwardly and pasted on a smile.
It wasn’t that Misty was annoying; she was actually very sweet.
But she’d also once brought him cookies with his initials in curly blue icing and then claimed to have been “practicing her piping skills.”
“There you are,” she said, slightly out of breath as she came closer. “I checked up front, but Riley said you’d come this way.”
“What can I do for you?” he asked as nicely as he could.
“I wanted to see if you have plans tonight—you know, since it’s New Year’s?”
Noah held in a snort. All his friends were out of town with their families, and he wouldn’t make it home to Hampton before the new year officially began.
He’d probably ring it in alone in his own house eating microwaveable chicken wings like he did most years.
Not that he really cared—January would come whether he welcomed it or not.
“Nah, I’m gonna head home. It’s been a long night,” he answered.
He took a few steps toward his destination, and Misty fell into rhythm beside him.
“Well, my roommates are actually throwing a party right now, so I’m heading back to a madhouse. There’s usually a keg,” she said. “You could stop by if you want. Unwind a little.”
Noah pushed open the swinging door to the stockroom and held it for her, since she obviously intended to follow.
The look on her face was so hopeful it made him pause.
Why not go to Misty’s party? Have a beer, make some new friends, maybe get to know her a little better? He could certainly do worse.
The door swung closed behind them, and she stepped into his personal space. “You might get more than a midnight kiss,” she murmured, looking him dead in the eye as she did.
And there it was.
He remembered the cookies and all the not-so-subtle hints about movies she’d like to see and restaurants she enjoyed... It was just too easy. Where was the challenge? Where was the adrenaline rush?
He thought of Olivia and wondered what she was doing for the holiday. Now there was a girl who wouldn’t be won easily. Not that Noah wanted to win her, but still. She kept him on his toes, made him work for every inch he gained—and the little victories felt like conquering the world.
Noah stepped around Misty where she was planted in his path and finally reached the supply closet and retrieved a wide push broom. “Thanks for the invite, but I can’t. I’m sorry,” he said.
The disappointment on her face was palpable. “Oh. But I thought you’re just going home?” she asked.
Noah took a slow breath and tried to decide how to spin the truth without hurting her feelings too much. Yes, he was just going home, but turning down her offer was about more than that. “Misty, I’m just not sure it’s a good idea. I mean, we do work together.”
“There aren’t rules about that,” she countered.
Wow, she wasn’t going to make it easy, was she?
“No, but still. Just trust me.”
She chewed on one side of her lip and shifted her weight to the other foot. “But— ”
Noah reached out and tweaked a piece of her hair that had fallen around her face—a motion that only made Olivia brighter in his mind.
“Enjoy your party, Misty,” he said, and he offered a smile before turning toward the door.
He’d already been away from the registers far longer than he’d intended, and he didn’t need to stick around to watch Misty process the rejection.
He hurried back toward the registers, pushing the broom ahead of him. Normally he would zigzag his way through the store from front to back, sweeping as he went, but that would probably mean running into Misty as she left, which he definitely wanted to avoid.
“Where have you been?” Riley hissed as he pushed the broom past her register. “I was about to send out a search party!”
“Have you had customers?” he asked.
“No, but Simon’s been out here barking orders like a drill sergeant, and he knows you were missing. What happened?”
Noah saw motion at the edge of his vision and looked up to see Misty hurrying out the front doors, her head ducked down inside the collar of her jacket. He nodded discreetly in her direction, and Riley followed his gaze. “Misty cornered me in the stockroom and made me an offer I had to refuse.”
Riley turned back and looked at him with wide eyes. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.”
“Poor thing.” Riley lifted onto her tiptoes to peer through the front windows, as if she could still see the other girl’s retreat. “She’s really sweet on you, you know.”
“Oh, really? I hadn’t figured that out,” Noah said dryly. “She invited me to a party at her place.”
“And you have plans? ”
“Well, no.”
“But you’re not interested?”
“Well . . . yes.”
“Yes, you’re not interested, or yes, you are interested?” Riley repeated, and Noah felt agitation rising in his chest.
“Would you stop?” he snapped. “I don’t do the girlfriend thing, and Misty has ‘girlfriend’ written all over her. It’s just a problem waiting to happen.”
“Alright, alright,” Riley said, her hands up in surrender. “I get it. No need to bark at me.”