CHAPTER SEVEN #2
“I got your back,” she reminded me as I unlocked the shop’s door. “You need anything else, you let me know.”
“Good morning!” I said to the women who stood smiling on the sidewalk. I held the door open wide for them. “Welcome to The Apothecary Shoppe.”
One of the women had a vest-wearing golden retriever with her. “Are service dogs welcome?” she asked.
“Absolutely,” I said.
The ladies and the leashed dog entered and began to shop. The dog was alert and ‘working’ as he walked alongside his mistress.
While the ladies browsed, I walked across the shop with my feather duster to work on one of the apothecary chest displays.
I was surprised to find spider webs all over one section.
Slipping in the back, I got out my peppermint oil spray and coated a dust rag with it.
One by one, I lifted the decorative bottles to dust them off and wipe off any webs.
Going up on tiptoe, I searched to see if there were any spiders in the cubby where the bottles had been. I didn’t see any but sprayed the cubby anyway and wiped it out. I was finishing up rearranging the bottles when I felt a canine nose press against my legs.
Glancing down, I saw that the service dog had gone to the end of its leash and was sitting beside me, looking up and smiling.
“You’re supposed to be working,” I whispered.
The dog’s tail began to wag.
I checked the owner and she had a surprised expression on her face. “Goldie, heel.”
Goldie swung her head from me to the owner, and then back to me. But instead of returning to her owner’s side, she sat and lifted a paw for me to shake.
“I am so sorry,” the owner said. “I’ve never seen her act like this before. She’s usually very focused.”
“Could all the spices be messing with her nose?” the owner’s companion wondered out loud.
“Hello, Goldie.” I accepted the offered paw. “You’re a very good girl, aren’t you?”
Goldie seemed to preen at the praise.
“Back to work you go,” I said and after a quick lick to the back of my hand, Goldie bounced to her feet and returned to her owner’s side.
“You certainly have a way with dogs,” Goldie’s owner said to me.
Instead of responding, I simply smiled and went back to reorganizing the display shelf.
***
I switched off the crock pot that I’d had out with mulled cider for the customers.
There was barely anything left, so I hauled it to the back and rinsed it and the ladle off in the sink.
I set it aside on my desk in the back room, right next to my purse, so I would remember to take it upstairs and wash it for the next day.
It was quiet as Taylor and Toni had gone home, and Circe had already closed up her shop.
Returning to the sales floor, I began clicking off the small accent lamps that were strategically placed within my displays.
Turning them off one by one, I worked my way to the back, and the only thing on my mind was taking a long hot bath and then nuking something in my microwave for dinner. It had been a very long day.
I caught movement in the doorway to New Moon Books and saw that Dex was standing there as if he were waiting for me. “Have dinner with me tonight,” he said, and held out a long-stemmed red rose. “At my place.”
“That’s a bold move,” I said, my eyes flaring in surprise.
“Dinner with no other expectations, Kate,” he explained. “I’d originally hoped to ask you over last month…but then things took an unexpected turn.”
Unexpected turn. That was one way to put it I supposed. Him inviting me over for a meal was the last thing I had expected that night. “Do you cook?” I asked.
“Been known to,” he replied and handed me the rose. “How do you feel about spaghetti?”
“Honestly, Dex?” I said. “I’m dead dog tired; and the thought of not having to cook tonight is very appealing. So sure, I could go for spaghetti.”
He smiled. “Are you about finished with closing up?”
I lifted the rose to my nose to sniff. “Yeah.”
“Then come with me,” he said, taking my hand.
“Um.” I hesitated. “I need to run the crockpot upstairs to my apartment so I can wash it out for tomorrow.”
“Okay. I’ll wait for you.”
“All right.” I went to the back room, hit the main switch, and the overhead lights went out. Scooping up the crockpot, I headed for my apartment.
I made short work out of washing out the crock pot.
Then I snagged a glass, added some water and dropped the rose in.
The crock pot and its glass lid I placed on a towel on the kitchen counter to dry.
After debating with myself for a moment, I made a quick dash to the bathroom to check my makeup and powdered my nose.
Once finished, I let myself out, and my feet halted on the exterior stairs when I saw him leaning against the delivery door, his arms crossed and waiting for me.
Is being alone with him wise? I wondered.
His dark hair tumbled to his shoulders and the short-sleeved shirt he wore was deep blue, setting off his cobalt eyes. With his muscles and tattoos on display and that half smile on his face, I had to agree with Circe: Dex was romance cover material.
It’s only dinner, I reminded myself. I could handle an evening with Dex and not give into my baser instincts. I was a sensible woman, and I had zero intentions of letting him off the hook so easily…
But I supposed there was nothing wrong with sharing a meal.
I’d only been in Dex’s apartment once before.
It was small, taking up the back half of the bookshop’s second floor.
Behind a door kept locked during business hours was a short hall that led to his apartment.
It wasn’t a fancy space, but still Dex had made it comfortable with a full-size bed in the far corner and a love seat and chair arranged in front of a large screen television.
And there was a tiny kitchenette with an island big enough for two bar stools.
The walls were brick, and like my building the floor was old pine.
There was a love seat that had seen better days covered with a crocheted blanket.
I did my best not to notice the bed. But there it was, made neatly with a gray spread, and sitting high off the floor in what was probably an antique iron bed frame.
I headed for the barstools, chose one and sat. That seemed like the safest place to be. Dex moved competently around his kitchen. He had water on to boil in no time at all and pulled a bagged salad kit from the fridge.
He filled a glass with ice, poured some water into it, and placed it in front of me.
“Y’all were super busy today,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said. Reaching for my pendant, I began to slide it back and forth on the chain.
“There’s no need to be nervous, Kate,” he said gently.
“I’m not.”
He gave me a look. “You’re fidgeting.”
Caught, I dropped the pendant.
“I peeked over through the connecting door a few times,” he said, “and saw that you had a long line at your check out counter. More then once.”
“The weeks leading up to Thanksgiving always are wild,” I said while Dex dumped the salad in a bowl across the island from me. “Toni came over to lend a hand for a while this afternoon. That helped Taylor and me get the line moving. That and I also gave out lots of free mulled cider.”
“Smart.”
“It always puts folks in a good mood.”
“I could smell the cider and mulling spices all the way over in the bookstore,” Dex said, tossing the salad. “In fact, I can still smell it on you.”
“Really?” I lifted the sleeve of my shirt and took a sniff. Sure enough, it did smell faintly of cloves, cinnamon and apples.
I glanced up and discovered that Dex was watching me closely. It made me narrow my eyes in suspicion. In response, he simply sent me a friendly smile and continued with his dinner prep.
“What are your plans for the holiday?” he asked easily.
“Dinner with my family at my parents’ house.”
“They live in Birmingham, don’t they?”
“They do.”
“Will Circe and her family be there as well?” he asked next.
“Yes,” I said. Her sisters Artemis and Andrea, and their parents—my Uncle Stavros and Aunt Rhea—and our grandparents.”
“Your family kept with the Greek name theme, didn’t they?”
“They sure did.”
“Do you have any siblings?” he asked next.
“A brother, Percy.”
Dex grinned. “Is that short for Perseus?”
“It is,” I admitted with a half-laugh.
Dex took the pasta off the heat and turned to dump it into a strainer in the sink. “Well, it beats the hell out of Beauregard.”
“What are your plans for the holidays?” I asked him as he transferred the noodles and poured in the sauce.
“I don’t have any,” he said. “I’m going to stay home and watch football.”
He didn’t seem particularly upset about it, and so while he served the food, I asked him, “Don’t you typically do something with Lorna?”
He shrugged. “She’s got other plans this year. Lorna’s taking a quick trip from Tuesday night until Thanksgiving. She’ll be back early Friday morning, to be here for Black Friday.”
I hadn’t known that but considering the past few weeks, it was hardly surprising that she hadn’t shared her plans with me.
“Anyway,” he continued. “Considering I was gone for almost three weeks, seems holding down the fort while she takes a break is the least I can do.”
We had worked our way through about half of our meal when my phone began to ring from inside my purse. Hearing it, I scooped it out. The name on the screen had my stomach dropping in apprehension. It was Hattie Broussard. “Hattie, what’s wrong?” I asked.
“This is Johnny, her fiancé,” came a shaky male voice.
I pushed back from the counter and stood. “Johnny, what’s happened?”
“Hattie’s been in an accident. She fell down a flight of stairs. I’m here with her in the emergency department.”