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Me:Harlem?
I wait a few minutes, yet he still doesn’t respond. But I know he’s seeing my texts because he’s leaving me on read. Jerk!
I growl and stomp my foot like a toddler.
“I guess that didn’t work out too well for you, did it,” Mystic says from the other room.
“Whatever,” I huff, stomping to my bedroom to prepare for work.
I was in a mood that whole day.
Harlem doing all those considerate tasks for me just keeps fueling my ridiculous crush. The only more frustrating thing is trying to figure out his motive. A few weeks ago, he tended to me and went all alpha over my injured foot. I could have sworn there were some sparks there. I mean, why was he showing all that concern? I brushed it off until he arrived to fix the window at my house. The tension and sparks were back. And again, his abrupt change in mood had me convincing myself that the heat between us was all in my head, and I was acting like a teenager with a crush on her favorite boy band member.
I lie in bed, replaying every moment Harlem has been in my presence, trying to make heads or tails of his behavior.
It’s not that I don’t grasp that Sage is with Salem, and Sage is my friend; therefore, the club is friendly to me, but Sage being my friend doesn’t warrant Harlem giving me special treatment. Or maybe it’s Salem ordering him to do it because I’m his woman’s friend, and he feels sorry for me.
A knot forms in my stomach at the thought of anyone doing favors for me out of pity.
Sighing, I roll over in bed and stare out my window at the glowing moon. This crush I have on Harlem is pathetic. I can’t imagine what he’s thinking whenever he’s around me. I turn into a bumbling idiot. The man probably thinks I’m completely useless. I bet that’s why he’s avoiding me. My stupid crush is obvious, and I make him feel uncomfortable.
“Oh, God.” I close my eyes and groan at the realization.
With that thought, a light bulb goes off inside my head. I need a distraction, something to help me move on from my stupid crush on that insufferable biker.
Climbing out of bed, I pad across the room to my corner desk, pick up my laptop, and crawl back into bed. I open the computer and do something I swore I’d never do again. I click on the search engine and type in dating sites. A whole plethora of options pops up on the screen, overwhelming me. I scroll and click on the first one I see. I pause briefly, looking at the home screen, all while thinking this is a bad idea, especially considering the last time I attempted dating sites, it ended in disaster. But the thought of continuing to look pathetic with this weird situation with Harlem has me clicking on the “Create a profile” tab.
Over the next thirty minutes, I create my profile. I add a few of my hobbies and minor details about myself, careful not to get too personal. Then I upload the only picture I have of myself that’s semi-decent.
Sage took a picture of me last month after I agreed to let her trim and style my hair. She also dolled me up in full-face makeup before snapping some pics for her website. Sage and Juniper offered the wedding glam packages and begged me to be their model. I will admit, I look fantastic in the picture. I’m not big on makeup. Most days, my hair is in a braid. Staring at the image makes me think I should put more effort into my looks. I’m sure no man wants a plain Jane. I could go out and buy a new dress, too. Just in case I get a hit on the site.
With my dating profile complete, I click the laptop closed, feeling confident about my choice. I’m not looking for a love connection but gaining some dating experience and a much-needed distraction would be nice.
I yawn and look over at the clock. It's nearly midnight. I tuck myself under the blanket and feel my lids grow heavy with sleep. Once again, when I close my eyes, visions of Harlem’s rough, handsome face greet me.
* * *
The next afternoon I’m at Belladonna’s running around like a madwoman. I’m restocking the new inventory I brought in while also trying to box up the new order that came in overnight through the shop’s website. A substantial order. Someone bought ten of everything we have in stock. TEN!
My mom called five minutes after I walked through the shop’s front door this morning. For the most part, she handles any online orders we have because we don’t get many, and for the ones we do get, we usually have enough stock at home for her to package it up straight away. But this morning, she called me in a frenzy, stating an order came in last night, and the person had purchased ten of everything we have listed on our website. At first, I thought my mom was mistaken, so I grabbed my laptop and logged into the shop’s email to see if we really had an order of that size. When I scrolled down to see who had placed the order, the only information given was a P.O. Box and the initials L. D. I almost fainted.
I was confused to see the address attached to the P.O. Box was two towns over from Salem. I calculated it to be a forty-minute drive. It makes more sense to drive to Belladonna’s to pick up the order versus paying that shipping fee. I’m not sure I should trust the order. What if it’s a scam? Then again, what if it’s not. I really need the money. Against my better judgment, I fulfill the order.
We have over eighty-five items in stock on our website. This order is a blessing. All I can think about is how Mom and I could rest easy for months. I can reinstate our health insurance and pay down the mortgage on our house. When Mom first came home, I had to take out a loan on the house. Belladonna’s had been struggling to get up and running, and Mom and I barely kept our heads above water. Walking into the bank with the deed to my grandmother’s house had been gut-wrenching. But it had been our only option at the time. My grandmother left me her house, land and the small building that is now my store in her will after she passed away.
“What’s going on here?”
I jerk my head around the endcap to see Sage and Juniper strolling in, eyes fixed on all the stacked boxes.
“You guys will never believe this.” I blow a strand of hair away from my face and wipe the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand.
“Believe what?” Juniper asks.
“Someone bought ten of everything I have listed on the Belladonna’s website!”
“Oh my God, Sukie!” Sage pulls me in for a hug.
Juniper beams. “That’s great news! And it explains all the boxes.”
