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I hid the reaction under a ridiculous pantomime of wide eyes and holding my hands in front of my face. “Ah. I’m distressed.”
“And now you’ve traumatized my favorite customer. Way to go.” Deacon’s scowl at Adam was exaggerated.
“What? Chicks dig electric toys,” Adam said.
Deacon sighed and rolled his eyes. “We talked about this. Chicks dig toys that vibrate, slide between their legs, and—”
“You need to see what I found.” I set my case on the wooden counter with a much heavierthudthan I needed. If I let him finish that thought, I was likely to turn bright red while my brain shut down. It had taken long enough for me to hear sexually crude language without blushing—I didn’t have a problem with it; I just wasn’t accustomed to it—but when it came from one of them, my imagination liked to take the words and run.
Even now, I was trying not to fall into the fantasy of Deacon between my legs, showing me tricks my little bullet vibrator never could. I was going to need some me-time when I got home. Rather than fall into that now, I flipped the latches on the briefcase and lifted the lid.
“No shit.” Deacon’s awe was audible. He grabbed the microfiber cloth I had packed in the case and used it to lift out one of the hand-sculpted, gold-flaked lead figures. My specialty was creating unique figures or restoring old ones. This particular set was an original Brooke. Three characters from The Sandman graphic novels—Dream, Desire, and Destiny.
I started lead sculpting when I was in high school, but it wasn’t anything big in my life. I made cute little ladybugs and ribbons because I could. When I lost my husband, I had no idea what I was going to do for money. He’d left us enough to pay off the house and survive for a little while, and I made it stretch, but it wasn’t going to last forever.
When a neighbor mentioned they’d been struggling to find a restorer for a hood ornament on their classic Duesenberg but everyone charged a fortune, I asked if I could give it a try. He said he didn’t have anything to lose, so he let me at it. The experiment was a success. I realized quickly I could charge a few thousand for a job everyone else wanted ten times as much for.
It was how I met Deacon—I liked to trawl antique shops for items in need of repair and restoration to sell between jobs.
Deacon set the Endless figures tenderly back in their case and frowned. “I can’t take them right now. I really wish I could.”
“You can take them. They’re a gift.” I nudged the case closer. “You’ve been wanting these forever.”
“They’re gorgeous. I can tell you how much you’ll get for them on the open market. They’d be wasted here.”
I glared at him. “I’m not concerned about how much they’re worth.” I let the hurt at his refusal of my gift slip into my reply. “I did the work for you. Not because you asked me to or because I want to be paid, but because it’s something you’ve wanted.”
“I’m staying out of this.” Adam took a step back.
Deacon scrubbed his face. “They’re gorgeous. They really are. And I’m grateful. But”—he pushed out a hiss between his teeth—“I just won’t have a place to display them in a month or two.”
“What?” My wounded pride vanished, and I stared at him, hoping he didn’t mean what I was assuming. “Why not?”
“Someone purchased a lot of the property on Main Street. Big developer. They’re going torevitalize. I have to update the shop to meet the new design specs set out by the city council, or I’m out.”
No. “That can’t be right. What about zoning laws and approval? And you own the property.”
“Have you ever read Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy?” Adam asked.
What did that— Oh. “Yeah, yeah.The plans have been on display for months. Locked in the basement.But that’s not actually legal.”
“It is, when you have the kind of money these guys do and the lawyers to find the loopholes. The town charter requires me to sell to them if I can’t meet building requirements, and they seem determined to give the entire block a more modern look.” Deacon shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. It’s done. I’ll deal with the fallout. How are you?”
I wasn’t letting him off so easily. I’d answer his question with proof that my random boring life wasn’t at stake, and then direct things back to his shop. “You know. Pre-empty nest syndrome, as I watch the twins get ready for their Sweetheart’s Dance.”
“You need to get yourself a maahhaan.” Adam’s retort was a poor imitation of a drawl.
I shot him a withering look. I recognized the teasing, but I’d been hearing people say that and mean it for years. The people at church said it first to my face, and then behind my back when I stopped attending. “Thanks. Hadn’t had that idea before.”
“No. Hang on. He’s got a point,” Deacon said.
They were not going to shift this conversation to me. Especially not this way.
“Don’t even start,” I said.
He gave me a look that said,You know me better than that. “Hear me out. It’s not that youneed a man, but you need more people to hang out with. Dating is one way.”
I hang out here. With you two. But I didn’t really. I visited and always made it about work, so I wouldn’t have to admit to them or myself that I was here as much for the company and visuals as anything. I didn’t have a lot of adult friends. My brother’s girlfriend. Her best friend. But they had their own busy lives.
