“Nah,” Gabe said. “I tried. Turns out, it takes skill to play basketball.” He shrugged. “I don’t have any.”
Just then Shay sailed from the back room into the retail space, arms full of at least twenty rolls of wrapping paper.
The sight of her impacted his chest like a ball of starlight.
Her face brightened when she spotted him. “Hi, Connor.”
“Hi.”
“How are you?”
“Really well...”Now that I’m with you. “Want me to hold some of these for you?”
“Yes, please.” She stopped in front of him, and he took more than half the wrapping paper off her hands. One by one, she thrust the rolls into a tall wicker basket. “Can I help you with anything specific?”
“No, I just have a question for you.”
“Cool. Let me get the rest of these situated and I’m all yours.”
“No hurry.”
She usually wore an apron at work, but tonight she’d gone with a costume like Gabe’s. Where Gabe’s cotton shirt was blue, hers was strawberry red. Her suspenders were white and instead of a hat, she’d tied fabric with holly leaves on it around her neck as a kerchief. She looked adorable.
She took some rolls from him and added them to a display. Then she took the rest to an antique metal bin.
Though she was only five-foot-four, eight inches shorter than Connor, Shay’s presence was tall. Energy vibrated from her, and efficiency marked the movements of her small hands. Her frame, which had always held the lean muscles of a runner, now also held the curves of a woman. A few years back, she’d added some strands of honey-gold to the almond-brown of her shoulder-length hair. As an adult, she wore ponytails occasionally and makeup daily.
The thing that had never changed? Her big, bright smile. It had the power to light up rooms.
Time had dissipated the shyness of his boyhood the way sun evaporates a water puddle. He chose his words carefully and he’d never be the most confident man in the room. But these days, people told him they found him approachable and called him things like “mellow” and a “good listener.”
He’d changed. Shay had changed. They were twenty-eight years old now.
Yet she was still the one for him.
It might not be fashionable to fall in love for life in middle school, but that’s what he’d done. He was past thinking he might get over his feelings for her.
Shay made a sound of irritation and pointed to a long Christmas paper chain that lay on the floor like a dead snake. “This fell again. Would you mind helping me put it back?”
“Not at all.” He lifted the chain.
She leaned over the cash register’s counter and returned carrying a box of tacks. “It’s supposed to swag charmingly across the front of this.” She indicated a display case.
He held up the chain and she stood back, head tilted to the side, issuing instructions.
Hers wasn’t the kind of beauty that smacked you the first time you saw her. It was the kind that snuck up on you little by little until it was shaking you by the collar and robbing all your air. Her heart-shaped face held a fresh, girl-next-door type of beauty. She had clear skin and pale brown eyes that danced and crinkled.
“Another inch to the left,” she suggested.
He complied.
Since he’d moved back to Misty River two years ago, Connor had become a regular at Papery. He custom-ordered all his art supplies through Shay. He could have saved money by ordering them himself but the opportunity to talk with her and the satisfaction he received from supporting her business more than made up the difference.
They also hung out now and then at social gatherings. Up until two months ago, however, she’d been dating a guy named Nate. Nate had seemed even less worthy of her than her past boyfriends, so it had been one of the happiest days of Connor’s year when he’d heard that Shay and Nate had broken up.
“That looks perfect, right there.” She passed him some tacks and he secured the first swag of the paper chain to the top of the unit. Then he held up the next swag, waiting while she eyeballed it. She nibbled delicately on the edge of her lip, and he swallowed a groan as his attention fixed on her mouth.
“A smidge to the right?” she said. “Yep.”
