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17
Three months later
Delaney’s Furniture, a sprawling store the size of a full city block, was a place Spencer had avoided entering on sheer principle. He wasn’t a fan of shopping, especially furniture shopping. The pieces in his house he’d picked up over the years, not really caring what they looked like together.
Except his bookcases. Those had to be just right, so he’d had them specially made. But in general? He just wanted a rug, a couch, a bed. He wasn’t a designer. He was a bookseller.
Or he had been until a few hours ago. Maybe he would be again.
Right now, his whole life hinged on a whole lot ofmaybes.
Prior biases aside, he acknowledged the store was attractive and understated. Almost homey, if you aspired to live in an old-fashioned painting. Subtle violin music greeted him as soon as he opened the frosted glass door but he barely noticed it as he climbed the sloped entrance to the showroom floor. Colorful artwork adorned the walls and the hardwood floors reflected the spills of light from the endless array of ornate lamps. They were even giving away little cups of fancy coffee.
He didn’t want coffee in a thumb-sized cup. Though he was tempted to grab one off the table near the door, just to wet his throat. He probably couldn’t have swallowed it anyway. Too much rode on this coming out the way he needed it to and he’d never been the best closer. What had occurred this afternoon was evidence enough.
But that was the past. And this wasn’t a fight he could lose.
“May I help you, sir?” A coiffed blond glided up to him, clipboard in hand.
“Yes. I need a bed. A really big one.”
She didn’t blink. “Wonderful. I’m Corinne. Let me show you to our Bedroom Essentials area.”
“Fab.” He slipped his hands in his pockets and jingled his change. It wasn’t as good as pacing, but it would have to do for the time being.
He followed Corinne, his gaze on every face he passed. This was a classy place. How would management would react if a screaming fight broke out amongst the box springs and mattresses? Just because he’d come prepared to deal didn’t mean he’d be met with a warm reception.
He almost anticipated a fight. Anything to banish the whitewash that had descended over his world.
God, he missed her. Nothing in his life had seemed right since she’d left it.
They walked forever, winding around sectionals and cozy room groupings arranged near fake fireplaces complete with cardboard cutouts of flames. Finally he saw the bedroom section, which looked mercifully deserted. Delaney’s had just copped its first break of the evening.
“So you said you’d like a big bed. Do you have a preferred brand or—”
“I’ll just look myself,” he interrupted. “Thanks.”
“Oh, but—”
“Thank you,” he said firmly, turning away.
“If you need help, I’ll be up front. Take your time.”
He surveyed the small desk at the back of the bedroom area. Was that hers? Why wasn’t she there?
She was supposed to be working today. He’d checked. Several times. The last thing he’d wanted was to show up and find her gone. Unless there had been an emergency. Or maybe she’d spotted his car in the parking lot and fled out the back entrance, never to be seen again.
Shaking his head at his foolishness, he gave in and paced under the guise of studying the beds. As if he gave a hoot about a mattress. If it didn’t fall to the floor when he collapsed on it, he figured he’d picked a good one.
Selling mattresses and featherbeds had to be beyond boring. She must’ve really been desperate if she’d quit The Book Nook to come work in a place like this, though he didn’t doubt she did well for herself here. She was a hard worker with a great eye for design. Delaney’s had probably snapped her up without a second thought.
So where the hell was she?
Spencer picked up a stuffed sheep pillow and bunched it between his hands, wondering how long he could loiter. Then he heard feminine laughter.Herlaughter. The sweetest sound he’d ever heard.
“I’ve got to go. I’m already running late—” She stopped mid-sentence. “Can I help you, sir?”
His hands were still full of sheep. He braced, shifting her way. Even the breath he inhaled so sharply his lungs protested didn’t help.
