(Blood and Bone, #2) Sin and Swoon(57)

Mark’s shoulders slump, and I can see he’s going to try the old “pawn it off on someone else” or ask me to come back later to pick it up. I smile wider as the phone next to him rings. I know it’s Angie coming through with credentials. I know she’s made some kind of magic happen.

“Excuse me.” He instantly perks up, lifting a finger and answering. “Barrel & Barn, Mark speaking.” His face drops, his cheeks flushing. “Oh, hello, sir. Of course.” He swallows hard, nodding, as if that will help, and then not speaking for several moments. The phone clicks loudly, and with a shaking hand he puts it back on the counter.

I sigh, looking back at Dash and the sales team. He has them all laughing and smiling. It makes me want to stroll over there like the little rain cloud I am. The girl’s face will be precious when she realizes that hot and charming man is dating this little hobo in a hoodie and ripped jeans.

When I look back Mark winces. “So do you have particular dates?”

“I do.” I nod. “Who was that on the phone?”

“One of the Ottos from Hamburg, Germany. The owners of Barrel & Barn. He said the vice president of the United States had called him personally and said I am to—to oblige you in everything.”

“Sounds about right.” I lean in a little. “Dates are November 2014 through to let’s say November 2015. One year exactly. And I need you to be fast, very fast. By the time that guy buys whatever crap they’re selling him, I need to be ready to walk out of the store. Oh, and give him the store discount so he thinks he’s getting a deal. It’ll kill him if he doesn’t get one after all that charming he’s doing.” I turn and stalk back to the mini party midfloor. When I glance back, Mark is scurrying like a little weasel.

As I approach, the girl’s brows draw close. She cocks one of the perfectly manicured things and eyes me up. I nudge Dash like we are buddies, not wanting to kill his sale. “So, rubberwood.”

“African rubberwood.” He corrects me and then frowns. “Don’t you think it looks a little damaged here on the corner?”

I purse my lips and shake my head. “I think that is the thing they do to make it look that way. Like it’s old already, but it’s new.”

The salesguy claps his hands together victoriously. “It is, indeed, distressed to appear antiqued.”

Dash looks disheartened. “They distress perfectly good furniture as a fad?”

The guy’s face falls.

“It’s all the rage,” I comment dryly, glancing back again to check on Mark and the scurrying.

“She is absolutely correct. It is all the rage. And we only have five of the tables. They would be the only set in Seattle.”

“Unless you order online.”

The guy’s love for me wanes. “Right.” His lips move like he might try a different tactic, but I look over at Dash and shrug. “Just get them. You can have them delivered to the house. I’m sure if you buy all five they’ll give you a deal because five is such a randomly odd number. They don’t want one table just chilling here.” I am completely joking since we live on the other side of the country.

But my version of joking is always lost on people.

Dash’s eyes light up, and the guy’s fill with worry. He glances at his boss, the ass manager at the counter. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

The sales team scatters as Dash turns and pulls me into his embrace. I stiffen, not loving the PDA at all. I don’t mind an arm around my shoulder, but wrapped around my waist is a whole other thing. “You are a smart girl.”

I roll my eyes. “So I know how to get things on sale. It’s not an admirable trait. It’s a necessity because I am poor. You may not be, but I am.” I tilt my head, trying to pull back even more. “Wait, if your brother is getting everything, does that mean you’re poor too and have to live on wages?”

He shakes his head. “No. That’s not how that works at all.” He smiles. “I can’t believe I got a discounted price. My father and mother would be appalled that I negotiated a price on warehouse furniture, but I did it.”

“Yes, you stooped pretty low.” I manage to step back, but his hands are huge and strong, forcing me to stay.

“I feel a rush from it. It was exciting.” He presses his lips to mine, ignoring the lack of enthusiasm I’m flashing. He kisses, oblivious to my not kissing back, and pulls back. “Let’s go arrange for shipping them.”

“You realize you have no longer gotten them on sale and the store in DC could have sold you the same tables, right? Now you’ve paid some insane amount of money for them. You should just back out. They can’t make you buy them.”