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A chime rang on the door when he opened it, and that set Blaine’s nerves on fire. A fairly typical jewelry store spread before him, with glass cases, watch stands, and glinting gems everywhere he looked.
No one came out from the back, and no one waited in the front. Blaine looked around, thinking he could’ve brought in a decently-sized rock, smashed the first case, and grabbed whatever he could get his hands on by now.
Ten more seconds, and he could be back in his truck.
Those ten seconds passed, and still no one appeared. “Definitely not this place,” he said, turning around to walk right back out.
He was probably being a little bit of a diva, but he wanted to be taken care of from the moment he stepped inside a jewelry store to the moment he left. He knew what wedding rings cost, and for that amount of money, there could be someone standing next to the door simply to greet him.
His stomach shook as he walked back to his truck. He couldn’t believe he was even thinking of doing this again. He suddenly understood Spur’s anxiety and bad temper the month before he’d gotten married.
Blaine had never made it that far, and he didn’t want a long engagement. He should probably talk to Tam about that soon. That was one of the main reasons he hadn’t asked her to marry him yet.
Well, that, and he wasn’t entirely sure he’d decided how he felt about her. He had been falling in love with her a little bit more every single day. When would he know when he was all the way in love?
He’d just gotten behind the wheel when he remembered his hunger. Instead of going into the chicken restaurant alone, he pulled out his phone and called Tam.
“Blaine,” she said, pleasantly, her voice far away, a clear sign that she’d put him on speaker. Sure enough, he could hear the tell-tale scraping of her knife against a piece of leather. “What’s up?”
“Can you take a break for lunch?” he asked. “I’m in town, and I thought maybe we could just sit down for an hour or something.”
The knife stopped moving, and silence came through the line. “Tam?” He pulled his phone away from his ear and looked at it. The call was still connected.
“Lunch?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “There’s this chicken place next to a jewelry store, and I thought—”
“Wait. Why are you at a jewelry store?” Her voice came into clear focus as she took him off speaker.
Blaine shifted in his seat, though he had no reason to be embarrassed. He hadn’t done anything wrong. “I was just checking out the selection of retailers in Dreamsville,” he said.
“I’m on my way,” Tam said. “Where are you?”
He rattled off the name of the jeweler and the chicken restaurant, and she said, “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” before the call ended.
Blaine leaned back and closed his eyes; the radio played softly in the background. If his stomach wasn’t so angry with him, he might have been able to fall asleep. When he was sure ten minutes had passed, he opened his eyes and started looking for Tam.
He didn’t see her, but he did catch sight of a woman through the glass of the jeweler, and he decided to give them a second chance. The chime brought her head up this time, and Blaine smiled before he realized who he was looking at.
Alexandra Alloy.
She wore a black skirt suit that rounded at the bust and hips but went inward at her waist. Her blonde hair had more gold in it, like honey, and he remembered her blue-green eyes so well. She’d often looked at him with laughter in them, and sometimes desire. At the end there, she seemed more annoyed with him than anything, and he’d seen those eyes when they were nothing but ice.
After a few seconds of the two of them staring at one another, she said, “Blaine Chappell.”
That got him to move, and he actually took a step into the store rather than out of it. “What are you doing here?”
“I own this store,” she said, her smile instant and wide. “Isn’t it great?”
It’s next door to a fast food chicken restaurant, he wanted to say. He frowned with the effort it took to be nice by nodding. He looked into the first case, seeing that it was practically empty. “I didn’t know your family was into jewelry,” he said, meeting her eye again.
“They’re not,” she said, the smile slipping away. “I am.”
“So are you not doing those fundraisers anymore? All that stuff with the Breeders Association?”
“I still do a few things,” she said coolly, lifting her chin.
Blaine nodded again. He’d been around Alex and the upper echelon of the horse racing society enough to know what her body language meant. She wasn’t still doing a few things in the Breeders Association. She wasn’t going to her fancy parties and luncheons, wearing her ridiculous hats with feathers and sequins, or raising money for jockeys and horses who sustained injuries during their racing careers.
