Chapter 2 Seriphina Joseph
~ Seriphina Joseph ~
THE PUDDLES LEFT BY the torrential downpour splash cold water on my feet and ankles after being trapped on my way back from the bakery. It’s only a drizzle now and I am thanking every god out there that it subsided long enough for me to make my way down the block.
Moonglow, my new age crystal shop, sits in the middle of a busy street between an art gallery and a music store.
I sell herbal teas, books, boho-style clothing, and altar items. There’s a counter in the front where the register sits and behind that is a stool and multiple electric kettles.
A large section makes up the other side of the store where you can sit on oversized fluffy couches and chairs with multicolored decorative throw pillows and a few tables.
I like it this way. I want people to feel welcome and comfortable, like a stress-free oasis in the middle of a busy world.
The moment the door shuts behind me, I lean my back onto it.
Stepping into that bookstore seemed like a good idea.
But when I think about those cool gray eyes and the warm feel of his calloused hand—I shake my head.
Nope, Seriph, we are not going there. That man is a walking billboard of everything I can never let myself have.
Tall, had to be over six feet, with a square jaw covered in a five o’clock shadow, and thick brown hair that looked soft enough to run your fingers through.
I could see the beginnings of tattoos on his forearms. I was dying to see how far they went under that almost too tight henley he was wearing.
Stop it, Seriph. He’s not for you. He will never be for you.
Men like that don’t want women like you.
So what if he struck up a casual conversation?
You definitely didn’t see him checking out your boobs.
Spinster life, remember? If no one gets close, you don’t get hurt.
At least that's what I’ve been telling myself for the last seven years.
The second I heard his deep gravelly voice from the shadows, my touch-starved body had responded.
He was walking sin and he would never be mine, even if pigs flew and he was somehow interested in me.
I take a deep breath and walk around the counter. Tossing my broken umbrella in the trash, I prepare to open for the second part of the day.
I head upstairs to the loft. Opening the door at the top of the landing, I make my way across the open concept living room and kitchen to my bedroom.
Large bay windows with bench seats line the living room, looking out over the street below.
The kitchen is on the far side lined with counters and cabinets, and equipped with a large center island with stools that I opted to use over buying a table.
My room is cozy with bohemian style fixtures and blankets.
Faux ivy hangs over the walls and there are mushroom shaped trinkets adorning shelves and tables.
The bed is king-sized, plush, and four-postered.
A large clawfoot tub and a walk-in shower take up most of the space in my ensuite bathroom.
The vanity mirror stretches the full length of the counter, which is big enough to sit on.
Entering my large walk-in closet, I pull a change of clothes off the hanger before tossing my wet ones into the washer.
One of the benefits of working below your home is easy access to your belongings when disaster strikes, like pouring rain or spilled teacups.
When I bought this place, the upper level was barren.
Over time, I was able to use what little money I did make, to renovate it into my dream home.
I work hard to keep what I have, although I sometimes struggle.
Given the chance, I’d do it all over again.
After I’m dry and warm, I head back downstairs. Flipping the sign to ‘Open,’ I wander around the store and check inventory. And I do everything I can to forget about stormy gray eyes and tan skin.