11. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
A lthough Hunter suggested going out to dinner, I asked if we could just order a pizza and have a quiet evening at my place. I needed a shower and wanted to get into some cozy clothes.
Besides, I really wanted to talk about the possibility of a relationship between us, and I didn’t want to do that at a table in a restaurant when it was likely that someone I knew would be sitting close by.
Hunter asked if we could meet in my boutique, as he was curious to check it out, and we agreed to meet at six.
The store is always closed on Sundays and Mondays. They are my days to restock, refresh, and on rare occasions, relax.
Entering the boutique, I turn on the lights for the back half of the store, leaving the lights in the store’s front turned off because I don’t want passersby to think I’m open for business.
Though with the lack of sales today, maybe opening on Sundays and Mondays for the next few months is a way to bring in the cash needed to fix the furnace. I can’t work 24/7, but maybe 12/7.
Sighing, I scan the large room for anything amiss. Thanks to the busy weekend, I haven’t set foot in my store since Thursday.
I need to see whether Chloe left me any surprises to deal with tomorrow.
Overall, the store looks good—no clutter on the checkout counter, the shelves are in order, and nothing seems out of place.
There are three boxes of new products by the back door that need to be processed, priced, and shelved.
I can see that they are from a new supplier, and I can’t wait to open them and check out the quality.
But not tonight. I’m tired, a little achy, and I want to focus on Hunter, not housewares.
He arrives promptly at six. His shadow, cast by the streetlights, creates movement that I catch out of the corner of my eye. I hurry to the front door, unlocking it to let him enter.
“Hi,” he says with a grin. The shelves stocked with colorful wares do not attract his gaze; his eyes stay locked on mine.
“Hello and welcome,” I say, inviting him in with a flourish of my hand.
He steps towards me and holds up his arms for a hug. I eagerly step into them. He’s showered as well, and he smells like pine and musk, my favorite scents on a man.
I’m thankful that the front of the store is in the dark; the large windows would put us on display if anyone walked by at this moment. Though, frankly, on second thought, I don’t care .
He kisses the top of my head and releases me. “Show me around. I’m excited to see your place.”
I relock the front door, then lead Hunter through the aisles, pointing locally made products. I share some artisans’ stories, and Hunter asks questions about the people, sales, growth, and inventory shrinkage.
“I didn’t know you were familiar with those concepts,” I say when he asks about shrink. We’ve stopped by a display of leather handbags and belts with beautiful details, made by Steve, the older gentleman I worry about the most.
“I told you I’m a data analyst. I work for a large retailer, and I study those numbers all the time. If you need help with projections, I’m your man.”
I sigh inwardly. I love the thought of him being “my man.” Hunter would be a trustworthy, kind, and funny man to date. “I haven’t had much luck with forecasting.” Or with men , I think to myself. “I just have historical information and no clue how to predict the future. I’m no Nostradamus.”
“I’m here.” He leans towards me and widens his eyes. “I’d be happy to review your accounts and see if there are any insights that I can glean. Maybe looking at the numbers from a different angle. You never know.”
He doesn’t presume that I’m overlooking something; he’s not trying to make me feel dumb. I’m thankful for that.
I think about the large repair bill. I need to make more cash. Fast. “What do you know about building e-commerce websites?” I’ve put that side project off for long enough. It might pull in enough additional revenue for me to get the furnace fixed before winter .
“Only a bit, but I’ll get it done for you.
No problem. We’ll need to look at your inventory-management system and figure out how to integrate it; I’m sure there are solutions for that.
It might take a couple of evenings this week, but I imagine we can get a working site up and running by this weekend. ”
“Really?” That would be a dream.
“Really.” He laughs, and his stomach growls. My eyes grow wide. He pats his stomach. “Maybe we should order that pizza.”
“Yes, we should. I order from Wendy Thorndill. It might take an hour. She makes them at her house—we don’t have ten choices for delivery here. There’s no Hub Group delivery.”
“You’re referring to Grubhub, and I know it’s not here. I’ve been moaning about that for years.”
“You city people get used to all the conveniences and then come home and put our little town down.” I move to the counter, pull out Wendy’s menu, and hand it to Hunter.
“I don’t do that. Besides, my mom’s cooking is excellent, and I prefer that when I’m home.”
“Do you cook?”
“Do hamburgers and steaks count?”
“Sure. It’s warm. It’s food. It counts. Oh, I have some cheese and crackers or veggies and dip upstairs. We can eat something to tide us over.”
He suggests a ham and pineapple pizza, which is my favorite, too! I call and place the order. Sometimes the orders are pick-up only, but luckily, her son Jack is doing deliveries tonight. Sometimes we must run to her house to pick it up.
We finish the tour of the store and head upstairs to my apartment.
Opening the door, we find Chloe sitting at my kitchen table, working on her laptop and eating ice cream out of the container.
“Chloe, use a bowl!” I yell.
“There’s only one serving left. Why dirty a dish?” Seeing Hunter behind me, she adds, “Oh, hi, Hunter. Didn’t know you were coming over.” She gives me a look and smirks.
“Hiya, Chloe.”
“Chloe was just leaving. Her apartment is upstairs,” I say, trying to hide my irritation.
“Yep.” She stands and tosses the ice cream carton in the garbage. “I just came for some ice cream. I’ll be going now.”
“No freezer in your apartment?” Hunter teases.
“Phoebe buys the ice cream. It’s our rule.”
“And Chloe buys paper towels,” I add.
“What’s going to happen when you’re not both living here?” Hunter asks.
Chloe and I shrug at the same time, which elicits another laugh from Hunter.
“Well, I’m going.” She grabs her laptop and tucks it under her arm. “Don’t do anything I’d do,” she says, walking toward the door, her blonde hair bouncing as she tips her head from side to side.
“Bye, Chloe. See you tomorrow night,” I say.
“Toodles.”
“So, this is home,” Hunter says, glancing around .
I love this apartment. The exterior walls are exposed brick. The interior walls are pale blue, my favorite color. It’s a nice backdrop to my collection of framed, pressed flowers.
“Yep.”
“It’s you. Very nice.”
I show him where the bathroom is and point to the closed bedroom door. That’s off-limits. I didn’t make my bed this morning.
We walk to the large row of windows that face the street, gazing down at the primary business district, which is two blocks long, and houses thirteen businesses. I’ve heard an indie bookstore may open in the spring. I’m looking forward to that.
“It’s quiet,” Hunter notes.
“Sunday evening. It’s pretty dead.”
He glances towards the couch, and I offer to get drinks as we await the pizza. “Just water for me,” he says.
We settle on the couch and turn towards each other, our knees brushing.
“So,” I say, “where do we begin?”
He stretches his arm across the back of the couch and runs his fingers through my hair. It’s a soothing move. “I like you, Phoebe, and would like to see where this could go.”
My eyes drop from his. It seems impossible. “But you live so far away.”
He grimaces. “Have you ever thought about moving to Chicago?”
“No, I’m settled here. ”
He sighs. “I know. Just kidding. I’m not quite ready to move back yet, but like I said, I can work remotely, and my mom has a spare bedroom. Let’s give the relationship thing a try, and then we can make more educated decisions in a few months.”
“Wow. That sounds logical, cold, and calculating.”
“I’m a numbers guy who likes data.”
“I know.” Well, I can’t expect him to just pick up and move home after two hugs and two kisses, can I? I look up at him. “We haven’t even been on a date yet; I wouldn’t expect you to move back.”
“Right. About that date. What are you doing Tuesday night? I’d love to take you to dinner.”
“I’m free.” I’ll have to skip book club, but the others will understand.
“Good. Now, let’s talk about the problem child.”
“Chloe? She’s not that bad.” I know he doesn’t mean Chloe. Could he mean the fact that I’ve been engaged twice? I had hoped that it wouldn’t come up tonight.
Hunter laughs, a deep, hearty laugh that shakes the couch. “No. I meant the repair bill.”
I groan. “Oh, that. Yes, it’s a problem. But that’s not a problem for you. I thought you meant the problem child was my history of broken engagements.”
“Engagements with an s? Tell me more.”
“You don’t know?”
“No. Not even about one. Sounds like we have a lot to talk about tonight.”
When is that pizza getting here? This is not a conversation to have on an empty stomach. “Let me grab some cheese and crackers,” I say as I stand up .
Hunter takes hold of my wrist before I can get past him. “Hey, food can wait. Let’s chat.”
“Are you sure? You know I get hangry.”
“I’m sure.”
He pulls me gently, and I slide back down, closer to him than before. He puts an arm around me, pulling me even closer. I sigh.
“You won’t want to date me after this,” I start off, preparing for Hunter to run from my apartment as soon as he hears.
“Don’t be so sure. Just the Cliff notes; I don’t need the gory details.”