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“I am sure your grandmother was very happy to see her skills living on in you.”
“As your grandfather must be.”
The man’s smile slipped a little. “We lost him in my teens but when I am in my shop, making furniture for the next generation, I feel his presence and know he lives through my memories.”
Polly blinked back tears. “That is beautiful.” She wiped at her eyes. “Sorry, I’m that typically emotional pregnant woman.”
“I think perhaps you are a sensitive soul, pregnant, or not.” He went to offer her a handkerchief from his pocket.
But her husband’s hand was there first, his crisp cotton square shaken out for her.
She grabbed it and dabbed at the moisture. “Thank you, Alexandros.”
“You are Kyria Kristalakis?”
“Yes, she is my wife.” Alexandros inserted himself between them, forcing the carpenter to take a step back.
Looking far from intimidated, the man winked at Polly. “Your husband is feeling protective.”
Polly looked up at Alexandros, not really understanding where all this testosterone posturing was coming from. “I guess.” She shrugged and looked back at the carpenter. “I would really like this nursery suite. Is it available?”
“For you, I will have it delivered this week.”
Alexandros growled, the sound primal. “We can find our furniture elsewhere.”
“No, we cannot,” Polly informed him, enunciating each word so there could be no misunderstanding. Then she smiled at the master carpenter. “I would love if you could have it delivered this week. We’re getting a little close for comfort.”
“And you did not even want to go shopping today.” Alexandros sounded almost petulant.
But billionaire tycoons didn’t get petulant, did they?
She rolled her eyes at him. “I never said I didn’t want to go shopping, I said I was surprised you did.”
The shop owner laughed and, showing he had some self-preservation, asked Alexandros for the details for delivery. But then he smiled at Polly. “Do you have a bassinet?”
They’d bought one earlier that morning and she said so.
He shrugged. “Okay.”
“But you have one you think my wife would like?” Alexandros asked, as if the words were being pulled from him.
“It is in the same style as the crib and dresser changing table.”
“Oh…” Polly wanted to see it. She really did, but she’d already gotten one, and that would be silly. Wouldn’t it?
“Show it to us,” Alexandros instructed.
“Please,” Polly prompted his good manners.
Her husband frowned down at her, but said it.
“She has you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?” the master carpenter asked Alexandros as he led them across the shop and into the back room.
“She doesn’t think so.”
“Is she blind?”
“Sometimes.”
