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“I’m putting this in my truck and taking it to your shop in the morning. I’m not hauling this into your house so you can look at everything again.”
“No, please bring them inside,” Thea whined. “I just want to look at them one more time. I promise I’ll pack them back up and put them in the truck for you.”
A lie.
“Fine,” I sighed, bracing my back to carry the bag up the stairs. “Does that mean we’re not watching a movie?”
Thea shook her head. “Probably not. Are you going to kill me if I ask you to carry this up to the second floor, into my craft room? It’s got better lighting.”
I groaned.
“I can carry it for a bit,” she offered.
I shook my head, pointedly glaring at her heels. “Really?”
She followed my gaze and shrugged. “Okay, maybe not. How about if I just offer moral support?”
I lifted an eyebrow.
“You’re doing great! You’re so strong! Is that helping?”
“Not particularly.”
“You’re so manly!”
I laughed. “Okay, it’s not hurting.”
A sheen of sweat covered my brow by the time I dragged the bag into her craft room. The blinding lights burned away any residual chill in the room and I gratefully plopped the bag beside her worktable.
“Alright, all yours. Lovingly pet this fabric all night.”
“You’re the best.” Thea ran a hand over my arm and tilted her head up to kiss my cheek. Her lips felt warm, the lipstick adhering to my skin.
I slipped an arm around her waist as she curled her fingers against my chest. She pulled away a fraction of an inch, her breath still hot on my cheek. “Are we really doing this again?”
Brushing my lips over hers, I asked, “Why not?”
“That’s a really good question.”
CHAPTER15
Thea
I wanderedthe aisle of the thrift store, stopping to thumb through a box of books.
Mrs. Evans had left the shop impressively clean. Considering she hadn’t so much as held a duster in the last decade, I guessed she was happier about fleeing Franklin Notch than she’d admitted. Unfortunately, her farewell burst of cleaning left me with nothing to occupy my time while I decided what to do with the shop.
Not just the shop. My life.
The “one time only” night with Benny had become two nights and then three. I kept waiting for the thrill of being with him to temper, but after the third night, I insisted we needed space. He didn’t need space, of course, and I didn’t really want space. For the first time I could remember, Benny’s presence wasn’t clarifying my mixed up emotions, just stoking them.
Because huddled up in my house or his, away from the rest of the world, I could so easily see myself with Benny. But as soon as his mom called or we ran into friends, I knew how much I could lose if we didn’t work out.
No, the mess I had made of my life was too big of a question for a weekday. I had to focus on the shop, the failing shop that I should sell immediately before I fell anymore behind on my actual business. I scooped up a pulpy suspense novel with a rose drenched in blood on the cover and returned to the chair in front of the register.
Halfway into the book, the bell over the door rang.
“Hello,” I called, standing up and stretching my hands over my head, my body achy from not having moved.
