Chapter Six
I took a tray and spread a napkin across it, reading out to him every delicious item I grabbed. “The last chocolate donut, two slices of whatever this is.”
Setting the pen atop the paper, he twisted the light for a better look. “Banana bread.”
“Ooh, I’ll grab another, just in case.” I laughed. Nothing could beat Cassie’s, but I was hungry and willing to try. Second place was still good. “A couple of these weird things.”
Elliot reangled the phone. “Oh, those are bear claws. One of our best sellers.”
Yet, there were two remaining in the case.
I shrugged. “Let’s try them.”
“You’re going to get sick.” Concern flashed in his eyes as he assessed the tsunami I was about to unleash on my digestive system.
“Nah, I may bruise easy, but I can fill my stomach with a shocking amount of junk and not have the slightest upset feeling.” Touching his arm briefly, because it felt so right, I then added a couple more treats to the tray. “What about something to drink?”
“There’s a variety of milk in the fridge; almond, soy, regular. There might even be chocolate.”
I hadn’t had a glass of chilled chocolate milk in ages. The fridge hadn’t been opened so there was a bit of hope it would still be quite cold. “Ooh, how big?”
“For what?”
“For the chocolate milk? If it’s a jug, I know I couldn’t finish it before it spoiled, and I don’t want to open the fridge repeatedly while the power’s out.”
“Good point, and honestly, I can’t remember how much was left.” He pushed the glass door of the pastry case open on the other side. “Can I interest you in a juice?”
“Nope. That will sour my stomach for sure.”
“Really?” He chuckled. “That’s what will upset your stomach?”
“Yeah. At least the milk will help to dilute the sugar, but the juice and all that acidity? Do you want me to get sick?” I tipped my head back and placed the back of my hand on my forehead, all while laughing.
He added two bottles of water to the tray and scratched it down on the piece of paper. “You’re weird.”
“I enjoy being weird,” I said with a hint of pride.
“Then that makes you even weirder. But that’s okay, because weird is wonderful.” There was a shy smile tipping on the edges of his lips. He cleared his throat. “There’s a cinnamon roll, do you want that too?”
“Does it have raisins?”
“All the best do.”
“Hard pass.” I scrunched my nose and refocused on the display case after I quickly inventoried the items on the tray.
From the corner of my eye, Elliot tipped his head to the side. Yeah, my shield of weirdness was on full display. It was only a matter of time before he considered me to be too much and would retreat to his corner in peace.
Instead, and more surprisingly, Elliot nudged me with his elbow and set the phone down display side up for lighting. “Seriously, you don’t like raisins? What do you have against them? Not a fan of the California Raisins?”
He started moving his hands from knee to knee in some bizarre dance movement. Watching him move was seriously cute. He was uninhibited. What a treat.
“They’re old, dried up, and they stick to my teeth and cause cavities. They’re super awful and ruin good baking.”
“Do you like wine?” he asked as a slow, teasing smirk spread across his face .
“Who doesn’t?” I’ve never passed up a glass. Or a bottle. Red or white, it didn’t matter, although rosé was my favourite.
“Those are raisins.”
“No, they are not.” I put my hand up in a stop position. “Those are juicy grapes ripped from the vine in their prime before the sun damages them and turns them into wrinkled versions of their former selves.”
“Wow, you really don’t like raisins.”
“Nope! An ex-boyfriend used to hide them in my favourite baked goods like chocolate chip cookies, brownies, and butter tarts. It was awful. He knew my distaste for them but he didn’t care. He thought it was funny. However, after the second attempt to sneak them in, I dropped him like a hot potato. No reason to hang out with someone who tries to trick you into eating something you don’t like.”
Elliot stood straighter and pushed his shoulders back. “That guy sounds like a jerk.”
“Right? What a tool.”
“Not all guys are like that—deceptive, I mean.”
“Oh?” That hadn’t been my experience, but looking at Elliot, like really looking at him, I was truly getting the sense that he wasn’t like all guys. That, and he was really rubbed wrong that I viewed them all the same.
I assessed the snacks I had put on the tray. “Think this will do for now. Are you wanting anything? ”
His eyes widened, he tipped forward slightly, and his jaw dropped. “Um, I…”
I pushed against his arm with my hand, wanting this giddy feeling building in my gut to last. It was new, but I was rather enjoying it. “I’m only kidding. I’ll share this with you, but I’ll have you know, I’m not one of those girls who’s afraid to eat. If I’m hungry, I will devour without abandon.”
“Wow.” There was a decent amount of surprise weighing on that one word. “Fair enough. I like a woman who knows what she wants.” He pushed against me and held his stance for a heartbeat longer than a friendly nudge.
I stared at him slack-jawed.
“Guess I really shouldn’t paint all women with the same brush, eh?”
“I won’t if you won’t.”
He nodded. “It’s a deal.”
Blinking myself back into the reality we were in, and not the white fluffy clouds my heart was currently floating in, I lifted the tray. “Anything else we should add?”
“I think we’re set for a bit.” Twisting his phone, the light lit a path for us, and we followed the beam back into the main area.
“Comfy chairs or the stool by the window?”
Elliot rocked back and forth on his feet while he contemplated his decision. “Well, if we’re at the window, we’ll be able to see if anyone walks by, but the chairs are way more comfortable to sit in. ”
“I have an idea. Hold this, please.” I handed him the tray loaded up like a five-year-old’s dream supper. “I’m going to rearrange your store, but don’t worry, it can all be put back.”
I dragged a four-person table off to the side of the room nearest Tiger’s Tail consignment, making enough noise to alert anyone walking by that we were trapped inside. As I stacked the chairs beside the wall with much clatter and clanking, Elliot moved more of the chairs out of the way too. Needing a bit more space, we pushed another table up to the first one and stacked another grouping of chairs.
“Not bad.” I surveyed my rearrangement. My vision had grown accustomed to the muted darkness, and as we stood nearer the window, it was brighter. However, there was still no power and the clouds hovered overhead, blocking out any and all stars.
“Yeah, I see what you’re getting at.” Elliot grabbed two stools and set them beside the wall, and I did the same until all the stools were out of the way.
We dragged the comfy wingback chairs closer to the window, surely scratching up the floor from the squealing and squeaking if the metal legs made against the hardwood floors. Dang, those chairs were heavy. The bar table was at eye level as we sat in the chairs, but at least, if there was any kind of movement beyond the window on the sidewalk, we’d be able to see it. It was going to have to do.
I high-fived him. “Thank you, this looks…”
“Perfect?” He said without skipping a beat, curling his fingers through mine. “Amazing? Wonderful?” Together, our linked hands slowly fell to our sides.
My brain went into overdrive. “You’re good with a thesaurus, I see.”
“Just you wait until I get started.” Releasing my hand, he sent a little wink my way. Not sure what his intentions with it were, but my knees weakened, my heart fluttered, and this wild sensation of soaring butterflies flew in my gut.
But it was just the situation. He had nothing else to do. What else was there, aside from being friendly? That’s all this was, right? Just two people trying to get through being forced together.
Believing that thought, and also questioning it, I walked to the alcove and lifted the knee-height table, setting it in front of our chairs. “There, complete.”
He added the tray to the little table. “Almost. Just a sec, I may have something that works.” Digging through his bag, he set a ball of yarn on the table.
“What is that?”
“Yarn, silly.”
“Yarn silly?” I laughed because that had been how he’d responded to my book tree. “Are you working on a craft?”
“Sort of.”
I shifted to the edge of my seat, curious about this project. “And?”
“And what? ”
“What are you making?”
His shoulders pulled back and he locked his gaze on me. “A scarf for my brother-in-law.”
“Seriously?” My jaw dropped. It was so neat and cool that it was mind-blowing. “Are you knitting it?”
He shook his head. “No, I crochet. It’s pretty easy, and I find it quite relaxing.”
“Wow. I’m impressed. I’ve never known a guy who crochets.” I sat back in my seat. Just when I thought I had him figured out, he threw something new at me. But in a good way. I liked it.
“Maybe someday I could crochet you a scarf?”
“I’d like that, honestly, as I don’t have a nice scarf. Mine are all standard things that are barely warm and certainly not hand-crafted.”
“What’s your favourite colour? It’s probably red, right?” He eyed my jacket.
I glanced down. “Actually, I tend to favour the more earthy hues: browns, deep greens, that kind of thing.” Like the shade of his hair and the tone of his eyes.
“I have lots of those.” He dug through his bag. “I’ll get started on one for you after I finish up this other scarf.”
My heart swelled. No one had ever made me anything crafty, aside from the occasional gift card. This was miles beyond that. “Thanks, I’d like that.”
“I just remembered something.” He reached back into his bag, produced a flameless candle, and flicked it on. “There, that’s what I was looking for. Now it’s perfect.”
My hand covered the awe stretching across my face. “Yes, now it’s perfect.”
In a room with any kind of light, the flameless candle wouldn’t give off anything more than an ambient glow. But in the pitch black of the store in a town with no power, it was enough to cast shadows on our treats and put a fun, romantic spin on what was shaping up to be a truly unique night.
“Where did you find that?” I pointed to our special little adornment.
“I’d forgotten I had it in there. It was from another project I’m working on.”
“Oh, you really are a jack of all trades, aren’t you?” I sat in my chair and pressed into the soft fabric, kicking off my flats and tucking my legs underneath me. “Tell me more.” I broke a slice of banana bread in half and brought half to my lips.
“It’s for the upcoming Dark Sky event.”
I pitched forward a touch, quickly swallowing my food. “Are you one of the volunteers?”
“No, thanks to my sister, I was supposed to be running the event tonight.”
Shut the front door . “Let me guess, your sister is Alice?”
“You know her?” There was a sharp head tilt.
The fox part and connection to Alice were still throwing me for a loop though. Why did she call him Fox? Her last name was Shepherd.
“What’s your last name?” I eye him suspiciously, but a hint of a laugh was tickling at the back of my throat.
“Fox.” Because of course, it was. Alice was married. D’oh.
“Shut up.” The laugh escaped—a low throaty sound that sprung to life. “I was supposed to be this mystery person who shows up to help you.”
He started laughing too, a richly deep and intoxicating sound. “Alice told me she had a bonus volunteer who was going to reach out after the session. You must be Miss Spice ?”