I took the receipt and reviewed the information. “You’ve had this purse for over three weeks?”
“Her birthday was yesterday,” he fired back. “As soon as she tried it on, the flimsy strap broke. It’s ruined.”
Human stores had a policy that the customer was always right. Breed shops didn’t work that way. The price of the purse was five hundred dollars, and because it was a one of a kind, it was one of Melody’s favorites. If she were here, she would probably flip her lid.
“For a fee, we can repair the damages,” I offered.
“No,” he said, speaking to me as if I were a child. “You’re going to give me a refund, and I want an extra five hundred for the way you’re treating me.”
Tak eased into view, admiring a display of necklaces inside the glass counter.
“Sir, it’s clear that your mate damaged the purse. Had it been a small tear inside, it’s possible we could have overlooked that flaw. But this,” I said, shaking the strap at him, “shows me that your mate doesn’t know how to take care of nice things. You can either pay for the repairs or stand here and argue with me. But I promise that if you choose to go to battle with me on this, I’m going to cut off the rest of this strap and whip you right out of my store.”
Tak snickered and pivoted away.
Dumont pointed his finger in my face. “What gives you the right to speak to me like that? I’ll be sure to let your Council know about this.”
I gave him a mechanical smile. “Do so. I’m sure the Shifter Council has nothing better to do than worry about a purse.”
His eyes narrowed. “Then maybe the public should know that you sell junk,” he said, turning away. He raised his voice. “This place is a junkyard filled with worthless secondhand trash, just like the owners. It’s all fake! You dirty Indians need to go back to living in the woods.”
Incensed, I grabbed the purse and circled the counter as fast as my feet would allow.
“Don’t waste your money here,” he continued. “This place is nothing more than a—”
Snap!
Before he could finish his sentence, I whipped him on the ass with the strap of that broken purse. Not my most professional moment, but I saw red. Nobody, butnobody, came into my shop and smeared our reputation with lies.
People around us looked confused and drifted away from the crazy shopkeeper who was beating her customer.
I lifted my chin, my hands shaking. Regaining my composure, I lowered my voice. “If you open your mouth again, I’ll raise charges of slander.”
When he inched forward, a mountain moved between us.
“Got a problem with Natives?” Tak said, his voice low and dangerous. “Because if you do, I’m about to get real uncivilized.”
The man stalked off, the bell jingling noisily as he flung the door open and left.
I glanced up at the giant before me. “Who asked you to intervene?”
Tak peered over his shoulder at me, his eyebrows sloping down in the middle. “What was your plan if he had attacked you?”
With the purse still in hand, I returned to the register. “He wouldn’t have tried. This isn’t a bar.”
Tak followed me, and when he reached the counter, he tapped his finger against the hand-carved wolf statue Lakota had given us. “Funny running into you here. Everywhere I go, there you are.”
I placed the purse inside a drawer for safekeeping. “Exactly why are you here?”
Tak shrugged. “Thought I’d check out the famous Moonglow. So you’retheMiss Church? Melody’s partner? I didn’t make the connection since Lakota doesn’t share the same name. Your business brings my father good money.”
My jaw slackened. “Your father is… Shikoba?”
Tak gave a mirthless smile but didn’t answer. Instead, he steered his attention to the items beneath the counter on his left. The quiet way he examined each item in the display made it feel as though he was judging me. Shikoba was our gemstone supplier, but he’d never seen my designs. Had he sent Tak to spy on our business? Would this man return home and tell his father that my jewelry was unworthy of his stones?
Tak rested his forearms on the glass and held a pensive look on his face that left me curious as to what he was thinking. His handsome mane reached the center of his back, the braid secured by a leather hair tie with tiny turquoise stones on the tasseled ends. I imagined he was a formidable leader in his tribe. But why would a man permanently mark his face?
“Let me see this one,” he said, tapping the glass with his index finger.
