“Four,” she replies, a note of eagerness in her voice.
“How long are they?”
“Seventy-two inches.”
“Depth?”
“Twelve inches.”
I look at the wall again. It’s an excellent spot for shelves, but there’s something about the flow of the space that bugs me. Customers tend to crowd near the door, and I don’t want to block traffic.
“Hear me out for a second,” I begin, moving across the floor to the opposite side. I point to the wall in front of me where there’s more open space. “I think they’d work better over here. If you put them on that wall as you wanted, people will walk in and out, and they’ll end up bumping into the shelves. But over here?Plenty of room for the tables and chairs to shift around, and no one will feel cramped.”
She tilts her head, considering my suggestion. “Hmm. Good point.”
I flash her a grin. “Come on, G. You know I’m more than just a pretty face.”
Her eyes roll, and I can see she’s fighting a smile. “It’s good to see you can use your head for more than flirting.”
Oh, baby, if you only knew.
I bite back a chuckle, knowing this playful back and forth is a kind of dance we’ve done before. “Where are the shelves?”
“In the back,” she replies, stepping to the side to lead the way.
I follow her behind the counter, through the door that leads into the spotless kitchen. It’s a little quieter back here, the hum of the espresso machines fading to a dull murmur. She walks briskly, clearly familiar with every inch of the space.
She leads me to the back corner, where four neatly stacked boxes sit. “I ordered them from a company that specializes in shelving for businesses. Everything needed to hang them is supposed to be included.”
“Perfect.” I nod, walking up to the stack and eyeing the boxes. They’re long but manageable. “All right, I’ll move these out and get started. You can keep me company, but don’t feel like you have to lift anything unless you want to.”
She raises an eyebrow in challenge. “You don’t think I can handle it?”
I chuckle. “I’m sure you can, but I don’t want you to strain yourself. You’ve got a lot of other things to focus on.”
She comes toward me, determination flashing in her eyes. “I’ll help. Besides, if I let you do everything, who’ll make sure you don’t mess it up?”
“Ah, good point.” I grin at her, stepping back to give her space. “Between the two of us, this shouldn’t take too long.”
We each take one end of a box, gingerly lifting it between us. She’s got surprising strength for someone who I know, avoids exercise like it’s the plague. We carry it out to the front, setting it down with a soft thunk near the wall I’d suggested. Then we head back for the second box.
The rhythm of our movements becomes smooth. We carry the next one out, then another, the sound of our footsteps and the soft shifting of the boxes filling the air. Every time I glance at her, I notice how comfortable she is here. Like this shop is the one place she can let down her guard.
Finally, the fourth and final box makes its way out, and we set it on the floor. I wipe my hands on my jeans and look over at her. “So, I’m gonna measure and then remeasure before I begin.”
She crosses her arms and steps back, taking a moment to survey the area. “I trust you to handle it. Just don’t screw it up.”
“Oh, I won’t.” I wink. “You’ll be impressed.”
She smiles, but it’s a guarded one. I catch the way her gaze flickers from me to the boxes, and I can’t help but feel like she’s doubting my ability, which isn’t the best feeling. But all I can do is prove how capable I am. Gathering what I need from the toolbox, I set to work. Ginger stays close, observing, though I can’t help but notice she’s more at ease than before. As I measure the height of the wall and calculate the distance between the shelves, I feel her attention on me.
After a few moments of silence, she steps closer, voice quieter than usual. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
I glance at her, my lips curving into a slow smile. “Yeah, at the dispensary. I’ve had my share of shelf-hanging experience.”
“I should’ve thought of that,” she mutters, her tone playful, but there’s a hint of something softer in it. “You’re full of surprises.”
I focus on the task at hand, but I can’t help the thrill that runs through me at her words.
