I studied her face—the genuine distress, the way she kept tugging at her costume's hem. A gentleman would offer to wait outside, but my truck was already disappearing under snow. More than that, leaving her alone and embarrassed didn't sit right with me.
"I could help," I heard myself say.
"Help?"
"With the inventory. Two people can get through it faster than one." I gestured toward her clipboard. "How complicated could it be?"
She stared at me like I'd offered to lasso the moon. "You want to help me count... adult merchandise?"
"I want to help you get through what's clearly an uncomfortable situation." I nodded toward the shelves. "Besides, I'm not going anywhere in this weather."
Vixen meowed, and somehow it sounded approving.
For a moment Flannery just looked at me, her expression shifting from mortification to something warmer. "You don't have to—"
"My mama raised me never to leave a lady in distress." I rolled up my sleeves. "Where do we start?"
After working for over an hour, I was wondering what I'd gotten myself into.
"Peppermint massage oil," Flannery read from a bottle, her face flushed. "Warming formula. Six bottles, shelf C-2."
I marked it on the inventory sheet I'd taken over. "Six bottles, C-2."
We'd developed a system where she opened the shipping boxes and called out the contents while I carried the items to theirdesignated shelves and recorded the counts. It kept me focused on logistics instead of watching her move around in that outfit.
Those bells on her hat chimed every time she bent over a box. I couldn't stop noticing that sound.
Vixen had appointed herself supervisor, watching from various perches throughout the shop. She knocked a massage candle off a display, and Flannery sighed.
"Vixen, quit it. Those cost more than my groceries."
The cat gave her a look that said she knew exactly what she was doing.
"She's testing you," I said. "Seeing how far she can push before you crack."
"You think?"
"I know ornery. We've got a barn cat just like her back home."
The work went smoothly until we hit the holiday specialty items. That's when things got interesting.
"Oh my," Flannery muttered, opening a box marked "Christmas Collection."
I looked over and immediately understood her reaction. The seasonal items were creative, that's for damn sure. There were candy cane-shaped things that weren't meant for snacking, mistletoe with very detailed instructions, and a kit called "Deck the Halls Passion Collection" that would keep Santa so busy he'd never make it to the second chimney.
"What's the first one say?" I asked.
She picked up an item and read the label carefully, her cheeks pink. "Holiday Passion Collection. For couples who want to... make the season bright."
"Well, that's one way to put it. How many?"
"Four sets." She made a note, looking slightly less mortified. "You know, this is actually easier than I thought it would be."
I laughed. "Gettin' the hang of it?"
"Right up until we hit the next section."
We handled the Christmas collection without major incident, aside from Vixen choosing to investigate the mistletoe display and getting her paw stuck in a ribbon. It took both of us to extract her, and when Flannery leaned close to help, I caught a hint of vanilla—something soft and sweet—and it made me wonder if she tasted as good as she smelled.
