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Maybe it’s you he has a keen interest in.
“So have him put together a newsletter while he’s at it. Simple enough for people to unsubscribe if they don’t want it, and a lot less pressure for you.” He tapped the paper. “Tell you what. I’ll put this into a spreadsheet. Will make it easier all the way around.” He took her shoulders and ushered her toward the back office. “While we’re at it, we can brainstorm your goals for the shop. We can break them down by season, since you work that way anyway.”
“Why am I doing that exactly?” she asked as he pulled out a chair in front of her laptop and nudged her into it. The back door thunked closed, indicating that Nellie must’ve retreated outside to allow them privacy. For their spreadsheets.
Good Lord.
“There’s power in writing things down,” he said, straddling a folding chair backward. “I’m sure you carry stuff in your head, but getting it on paper will help you see how to break it down in steps. An action plan, if you will. Something you’re already doing,” he added, apparently noticing her slack jaw. “You’re on the right path already. You just need to shore it up a bit. Have you given any thought to those ideas I mentioned the other day? The lower-end arrangements, the cheap impulse buys for the counter?”
“A little,” she admitted, thinking of the window displays she still hadn’t put together. She’d almost abandoned the idea as a waste of time when Dillon had steamrolled her with his flurry of suggestions, but since then, she’d found herself planning in every spare moment. “It’s a lot to do. Without much staff.”
“Action plan,” he reminded her, tapping the computer out of hibernation. “Let’s get everything down, then we’ll start weeding out what will and won’t work. After we add in a projected time line, you can discuss it with Nellie and get started.”
She stared at him, caught between feeling hopeful at his contagious determination and affronted that he obviously believed she couldn’t do this on her own. “This is my store.”
“No arguments there.” He tucked a loose curl behind her ear and roamed his gaze over her face. “I want to help you. Will you let me?”
Saying no would’ve been so easy. She had this. A lot of what he’d said she’d already considered, but she just hadn’t moved forward with it yet.
Because she’d been wallowing. And he wouldn’t let her, not any longer.
“I won’t step on your toes. I promise.” He slid his thumb down to stroke her lower lip. Her heartbeat stumbled from the heat in his eyes. “If you want me out, I’ll butt the hell out, okay?”
She nodded before her stubborn brain had a chance to voice an objection. “Okay.”
“Great.” He grinned. “Let’s get busy.”
Her lips curved as he opened her spreadsheet program. His big arms seemed to dwarf her laptop, but he danced his fingers over the keys with the same skill he used on her body. “Promises, promises.”
He slanted her another grin, his gaze still enticingly heated. “I always fulfill them.”
They worked side-by-side for over an hour, setting up charts and graphs and a contact spreadsheet she couldn’t wait to fill in. He had a way around the program, and could generate fancy pie graphs with a few clicks. Having that visual, along with his low encouragement in her ear, helped make envisioning her plans a lot more fun. Plus on the screen they began to take real, tangible shape. Thanks to him.
When his cell rang and he stepped into the front to take the call, she found herself eagerly inputting the information they’d discussed. Income projections, an actual line-by-line budget. She’d had no idea actually seeing everything in front of her would solidify her footing.
She was so wrapped up in her work that she didn’t hear him return. “I’m sorry, but I gotta go.”
“You do?” Disappointment came first, quick and overwhelming.
“Yeah.” As she rose, he came up behind her and crowded in close with his big, toned body. “Make sure you eat something,” he said against her ear. He placed the cranberry-orange muffin she’d been salivating over all morning on a napkin and pressed a quick kiss against the side of her neck. “I’ll be back for lunch. Probably a late one.”
“You will?” Her voice sounded shaky, very un-Alexa-like. The parroting thing she was doing was annoying too. But she couldn’t help it, not when his strong hips rotated against hers with the suggestion of things to come.
Preferably she’d be coming too. Under his hands. Just under him, period.
“Yes. I will.” Another kiss, more lingering this time. Inflaming her skin until she knew her cheeks had to be flushed with the havoc he created inside her with merely a skim of lips. “Have a good morning.”
He left with the other bakery bags under his arm, making her wonder who would be getting his treats while she waited for him to come back.
She closed her eyes and sucked in a lungful of air. God, get a grip.
“Well, then.” Alexa opened her eyes to find her best friend studying her from the doorway. That she wore a shirt with grabby cat paws encircling her swollen belly didn’t diminish the stern set of her lips. “You slept with him last night, didn’t you?”
She couldn’t stop her smug smile. “We didn’t sleep much.”
“I just bet. He touched you like a guy does after he’s already been on the carnival rides and can’t wait to ride again. When were you going to tell me?”
“Soon.” Alexa sighed. “Remember how I told you he went to get a part? Well, he got it and when he returned, he—” She broke off at Nellie’s snigger. “What?”
