“Face it, mister,” the clerk said, scanning the magazine. “I don’t think you have a shot with her.”
Not unless Santa brings me a time machine for Christmas.
“What? You didn’t hear my truffle butter joke? I thought I nailed that one. You try making fungi quips in the checkout line.” I craned my neck, but I couldn’t spot Sage through the glass windows.
The clerk shrugged and leaned toward the microphone.
“Price check on a wheel of brie.” She flipped on the blinking register light. “It will just be a moment, sir.”
Behind me, the line groaned, and somehow, without even trying, I climbed another notch on the villain dial.
***
I parked behind the antique shop and cut the engine. So far, my day had been drenched in misery. I wasn’t any closer to fixing things with Sage and forget getting close enough to figure out any of her secrets.
The grocery store had nearly ended in a brawl with my price check fiasco. If I’d pulled out coupons or a checkbook, I wouldn’t have made it out alive.
But that was all about to change. One of my goals with the lodge had been to restore it to its previous glory. I’d hired some help, though most of the blood, sweat, and tears of the interior remodel were my own. I salvaged as much as I could. However, I splurged on one thing.
The shop was nearly empty and closing early because of the holiday, so I made my way to the counter and hit the bell. An older gentleman with tufts of white hair, wearing wire-rimmed glasses, appeared from the back. He nodded in acknowledgment and rested his wrinkled hands on the counter.
“I should have an order ready for pickup. My assistant placed it, so it’s underher name. Last name, Spellman.”
“Let’s see what we have.” The owner ran a finger down a list of names in a ledger and tapped the page. “Yes. Here it is. I’ll be right back.”
I leaned against the counter, browsing a wall of vintage clocks. The sound of footsteps creaked in the back as another shopper wandered the aisles. A flash of blonde hair tucked under a familiar ski hat caught my eye, and I shook my head, positive I was seeing things.
Sage had been on my mind nonstop and now I was mistaking her for strangers.
The man returned and placed my order on the counter.
“These are perfect,” I said, running my fingers over the wooden skis. The hickory had been varnished to a glossy shine and the name of the lodge was hand-painted across the front. They were going to look amazing hanging above the massive fireplace in the great room.
“They’re original to the area, circa 1920, and the skis have been restored and painted by a local artisan.”
The owner ran my credit card, and I signed the slip. The skis were expensive but worth the price for the added appeal of another era. While he wrapped the order, I glanced toward the back of the shop. The shopper hummed a Christmas carol, and the soft voice sounded familiar.
“Ms. Bennett, we’re closing soon,” the owner announced as he finished wrapping the skis.
“I’m almost finished!” Sage shouted, still hidden from view down the aisle.
No way.A surprised chuckle rumbled in my chest. What were the odds? I held up a finger, signaling to the owner I'd return to collect my skis, then quietly walked to the back of the shop.
Sage leaned close to the shelf, her hand moving in a slow circle around what appeared to be an old bowling trophy. As I watched, the words on the plaque blurred and her name appeared beneath a title.
She huffed air between her cheeks and let out a curse.
“No one is going to believe they gave me this trophy for Agent of the Year,” she mumbled, removing it from the shelf to examine the faux gold statue closer. “The man is clearly bowling.”
I held my breath, afraid even the whisper of air might give me away. Sage had lied about winning the award. I didn't blame her for a second. Not after witnessing the scene in her parents’ tea shop and seeing the excitement around town. It was an act of preservation. I would have done the same.
But suddenly, I had leverage.
No. Walk away. You already screwed things up once.
My feet stayed rooted to the hardwood. I needed her help, and she'd made it clear she wanted nothing to do with me. If I was a better man, I'd listen. Things between us were messy enough. She'd hate me even more if I forced her to work with me.
Then again, even the Grinch had a redemption arc.
