Our Now and Forever(4)

The tinkle of bells over the front door brought Snow back to the present. She stepped away from the counter, pressing her body against the craggy brick wall behind her. The only other person in the store was Lorelei, who was taking longer than usual to sweep up, something she’d never bothered to do before. Snow was grateful for her friend’s delay tactics. If she’d had to wait for Caleb by herself, she might have snuck out the back door and made a run for it.

Except she would never abandon the business she’d built from nothing. Not after working so hard to make something for herself. Growing up in a family in which money was tight and ambition nearly nonexistent, owning her own business had never entered Snow’s mind as a real possibility. If she hadn’t been mostly cut off from her naysaying parents for the last year and a half, she’d likely never even have given the store a shot.

Though she missed her family desperately, and made occasional trips to Nashville to ship birthday and holiday presents from a random post office, Snow didn’t miss their negativity. She’d found the freedom to become her own person a heady experience. In truth, her defiant move to Nashville to chase the dream of becoming a singing sensation had been little more than a ruse to avoid being stuck in a meaningless life.

Snow had grown up singing in church, and loved performing, but she didn’t crave the spotlight or carry any deep desire to be a star. She’d simply used her gift to keep from telling her parents that she didn’t want a life like theirs, working her knuckles to the bone for little money and even less respect. When she met Caleb, she’d been earning a few dollars here and there with her voice, but she preferred her day job of working in a Western-wear store engaging with everyday people. To now be selling pieces with history and meaning, and doing it on her own terms, suited Snow perfectly.

As for her pretentious in-laws, who’d made it clear that she would never be good enough for their boy, Snow’s little shop may not be on par with the McGraw Media empire, but she was her own boss, successful and happy without their stinking money.

Before her husband reached the middle of the store, Lorelei breezed by the counter saying, “All done. Time to go.” Doing a quick spin, she mouthed the words full report tomorrow, then proceeded toward the exit as if it wasn’t completely obvious why she was leaving in such a hurry.

Panic sent Snow hopping around the counter to beg her friend to stay, but Lorelei was already waving from the other side of the glass. Around Caleb’s fast-approaching form, Snow saw the open sign swinging back and forth in the door’s window, revealing that Lorelei had essentially closed the store on her way out.

Snow made a mental note to thank her resident baker the next day.

Once Caleb reached her, she expected an immediate flurry of unanswerable questions. Instead he said, “Do you need me to wait somewhere while you close up?”

Patience. Huh.

“You can sit anywhere you’d like,” she said, thankful for the reprieve, however short it might be. “I need to count the drawer.”

Caleb nodded, looked around, and dropped his solid frame into a periwinkle-blue chair. The feminine curves of the piece threw his own more masculine form into sharp relief. Yet the white polka-dots propelled the image into comical territory. To her surprise, Snow had to cough to hide the giggle.

How could she be giggling at a time like this? Her estranged husband—could she call him estranged when he’d had no say in their separation?—sat in her store as if waiting for her to serve tea and crumpets. This was no laughing matter. And yet, she couldn’t wipe the smile from her face.

“I didn’t expect you to be so happy to see me,” Caleb said, resting an ankle on the opposing knee.

Snow stuttered as she answered. “I . . . I’m not. I mean . . . You . . . In that chair . . .” Abandoning the effort to explain, she resorted to waving a hand in his general direction.

Caleb examined the chair beneath him. Looking her way with a twinkle in his eye, he said, “I don’t see any comfortable brown leather, so blue with polka-dots will have to do.”

His words conjured memories of the first night they’d spent together, when they’d made love in a worn leather chair at his apartment. Heat pooled in Snow’s belly and slowly spread to her extremities. She didn’t need a mirror to know her thoughts were revealed in the redness of her skin. All the moisture seemed to leave her mouth and relocate to her palms.

Opening the cash drawer with a loud ding, Snow said, “You’ll need to be quiet while I count.” As if she could possibly count money now that her libido was fully awake for the first time in more than a year. She had to fight not to cross the short distance between them.