Ask Me Why(22)

“It’s my pleasure. You’ve done a perfect job with this store.” She grabs a few of my business cards from the holder and tucks it into her purse.

I stroke the mosaic tiles that border the counter. “This shop is my baby.”

She mirrors my movements, tracing the colorful pattern. “It really shows. I can’t wait to tell all my friends. And with that little café next door? This street is killer. One bonus after the other.”

I blink the heat from my eyes, not wanting to weep in front of a perfectly sweet stranger. “That truly means so much to me.”

She pats my hand. “Be proud. You’ve created a magical retreat for the creative soul. Kudos!”

“Well, you’ve truly made my day. Probably my month.” And I’m not exaggerating. If there wasn’t a counter between us, I might hug her. Maybe I’ll do it anyway.

She gives me a finger wave over her shoulder. “Until next time.”

“Have a great day,” I call to her retreating form. When she walks out, I’m still feeling ten feet tall. This afternoon is certainly taking a turn for the better. I mentally check my daily-due list of tasks. I turn away with a smile, set on getting some organizing done in the storage room. Before I make it three steps, the welcome bell rings.

My favorite customer bolts through the door at a speed any Olympic track star would envy. I cross my fingers over one another while waiting for his chaperone to arrive. Mary has been the one accompanying him these last few weeks, which I’ve been grateful for. But my guard remains firmly locked and loaded.

“Hi, Braelyn,” Ollie greets. The kid is barely winded.

I give him a high-five. “Hey, buddy. How’re you?”

“Great! And guess what? My dad—”

“Oliver John!”

My lungs threaten to collapse when that harsh tone cracks into the air. Any hope of avoiding another altercation vanishes with those four syllables. Ollie makes a show of locking his lips and throwing away the key. He bounces on his blue sneakers, tugging on my shirt. I lean closer.

“My daddy has something to ask you. But I’m gonna go play with toys, m’kay?” His voice is barely a whisper.

“Uh, sure?”

But he’s already racing away, my response falling on deaf ears. No matter. Everything else fades into a colorful blur when Brance’s looming presence blocks the entrance. When he stalks closer, my brain power melts into a puddle of useless goo. Good Lord, this isn’t fair.

Brance is wearing another crisp suit, and I want to hate him for it. Those sleek fitting threads are some sort of kryptonite to my resistance. There’s no doubt about the custom fit. If I wasn’t positive before, this number does the trick. To add intensity to the fantasy, a blue tie pops against the gray fabric. Is that silk? Goosebumps prickle my skin at the promise of its feathery rasp. I jerk my mind out of the gutter.

“You’ve got a thing for suits, huh?” Brance offers a half smile, one hundred percent condescending.

I wince, knowing my face is red enough to stop traffic. He prowls into my personal space. I catch a heady whiff of his scent and almost moan. Crisp outdoors and spicy musk assault my senses. The combination is lethal.

Hello, pheromones. Please have mercy and take pity. I’m growing weak.

With a middle finger, he slides his sunglasses down. Those piercing blue eyes stab into me, and I fight to keep my expression neutral. He doesn’t need to know I’m a quivering bowl of gelatin on the inside.

“Buy a camera yet?”

I ignore his barb. “Ollie told me you have a question.”

“My son is very taken with you.” Brance’s gravelly voice is bitter.

I let my hackles rise. “And that’s a bad thing?”

He shrugs. “Not necessarily. Just makes things more… complicated.”

“How? Him being here often isn’t hurting anyone.” Not that I’m aware of at least.

“Attachments are messy,” Brance retorts.

“Ollie is a child. He should be surrounded by love.”

“And he is, constantly. Don’t worry about how I distribute affection.”

I don’t bother disguising my scoff. “Yeah, you’re Mister Warm Fuzzies.”

“That kid gets the best of me. There’s nothing left to spare. I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry.” His chiseled jaw tics, giving away his true feelings.

I smile at that. “At least you’re spending it wisely. That’s how it should be.”

“Great parenting advice. Find that in a pamphlet at the doctor’s office?”

The words bite, but only surface deep. “I might’ve read a baby book or two. I always wanted children.”

“Past tense?”

I nod slowly. “That ship has sailed.”

Brance studies my face. “Why?”

“Not important.”

He narrows his gaze. “Can’t find a man to knock you up?”

His nasty insinuation makes my eyes sting. Just when I thought we’d passed the worst of it. I suck in a deep breath and dredge up more strength.

I point to the exit, the gesture becoming a reflex when this man is involved. “You can leave now. I’ll get Ollie checked out.”

Brance doesn’t move an inch. “You’re so sensitive.”