Jill looks sheepish. “Well...”
“Jill!” Bailey and I exclaim in unison.
“He was really cute!” Jill defends herself. “And I figured, hey, at least he’s honest about his issues.”
“So, when’s the wedding?” I tease.
“Ha ha,” Jill rolls her eyes. “I canceled at the last minute. Told him I came down with food poisoning. The irony was not lost on me.”
We all burst into laughter again.
Bailey wipes tears from her eyes. “My non-existent love life doesn’t seem so bad now.”
“And my complicated bodyguard situation seems normal,” I add.
“Glad I provided some perspective,” Jill says. “Now, who wants more wine? We’re going to need it for the rest of my dating horror stories.”
“What is this place?” Ryder asks, his eyes darting from side to side as he matches my stride.
“I told you. An antique market,” I reply, suppressing a giggle as he almost knocks over a stack of vintage plates. “Try not to break anything. I don’t think your insurance covers a ‘bull in a china shop.’”
“Hilarious,” he grumbles, sidestepping a well-balanced tower of old books. “What you failed to mention is that it’s a crowded deathtrap masquerading as a flea market.”
He presses closer, his body heat radiating against my back. He’s angry, but I can’t bring myself to care.
“Or maybe you didn’t forget. Maybe you did it on purpose,” he continues, his breath hot on my ear. “When you said ‘shopping trip,’ I pictured a nice, safe mall. Or a Starbucks. Not this.” Ryder gestures, almost decapitating a porcelain doll. The vendor shoots him a dirty look.
I shrug, feigning innocence. “Maybe.” Perhaps I forgot to mention it, or maybe I didn’t tell him to avoid him forbidding me from coming. What does it matter? I’m here now, in my personal paradise.
“Hey Christopher, what’ve you got for me today?” I approach one vendor, a weathered old man perched on a rickety chair behind his booth. I flash him a smile, ignoring the cluttered table before me. The good stuff isn’t on display. I pull a small plastic container of cookies from my bag and place it on his table.
Christopher’s face splits into a wide, gap-toothed grin. “Saved something special just for you.” He stands with a groanand shuffles to the boxes stashed behind his booth, where he keeps the real treasures.
“Everyone here knows you?” Ryder asks, his eyes never stopping their constant scan of our surroundings.
“Almost everyone,” I say with a shrug. “I don’t buy kids’ toys. But I’m here at least once a month, so most know who I am and what I’m after.”
“And you bring everyone cookies? Is that some kind of bribe?”
“No,” I shoot him a glare. “It’s called friendship and maintaining good relationships.”
“I didn’t get any cookies,” Ryder grumbles, sounding almost hurt.
“Are you saying you want cookies? If it’ll make you be nicer to me, I’ll give you an entire box.” I flash him a saccharine smile. “I’ll even let you pick: we’ve got chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin, or ‘stop being a grumpy bodyguard’ flavor.”
“Ah! Found it!” Christopher calls from behind the booth. He returns, cradling a large, flat cardboard box like it’s made of spun glass, and sets it on his chair.
I bounce with excitement. Chris is my favorite vendor here. I always stop by his booth first, eager to see what he’s bought. It’s not always what I want or fits my vision, but I have a good feeling about this item.
I circle the booth to reach the chair, but Ryder blocks my path. “Wait here. I need to check it first.”
“Check it?”
He frowns, his displeasure evident. “It’s a closed box in a market. You don’t know what’s inside.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s an antique, Ryder, not the lost Ark of the Covenant.”
“This isn’t just some item laid out on the table for anyrandom buyer. It’s something set aside for you. You just told me you come here regularly, and the vendors know you. That kind of information could easily be exploited to harm you.” He steps around me and approaches the box.
