Then we reached the section I'd been dreading.
"Well, hell," I muttered, stopping in front of the Cowboy Collection.
"I know," Flannery said miserably. "My boss was so proud when it arrived. She kept talking about appealing to local tastes."
I picked up what was supposed to be a lasso—silk rope with decorative tassels and metal attachments that made no damn sense for actual ranch work. "This is all wrong. You can't rope anything with silk, those knots are purely decorative, and those metal pieces would spook every horse in the county. That's not how you use a lasso, darlin'."
"What about this?" She held up what might charitably be called a vest.
I examined it, amusement building. "Well, the leather work isn't bad. But it's got more holes than fabric. Wouldn't keep you warm, wouldn't protect you from brush, and it sure wouldn't stay closed if you had to do any actual work."
"So what's it for?"
"Decorative cowboys. The kind who never leave the bedroom."
She snorted with laughter, and I was damn pleased to be the cause of it. "Indoor cowboys?"
"Very specialized profession. Requires custom equipment." I held up another item—spurs with rhinestones that would last about five seconds in a real stirrup. "These are purely ornamental. And that rope..." I shook my head. "Only good for extremely cooperative livestock."
We continued working our way through the Western-themed items. I provided commentary on their intended use—"ceremonial chaps," "boots designed for carpet riding," and "bandanas that definitely shouldn't go anywhere near your face."
Our hands brushed when she passed me a box, and she pulled back quickly, adjusting those glasses. The gesture was becoming familiar, endearing even.
After another half hour of inventory comedy, she said, "That covers the cowboy stuff. Just need to finish the regular inventory."
"How much more?"
"Maybe another hour. But..." She hesitated, then looked up at me. "This might sound crazy, but I haven't eaten dinner. I know this is a very awkward situation, but I've got some frozen meals in the break room—they're not great, but at least it's something I can do to thank you until the weather clears and we can get out of here."
My stomach answered with a rumble loud enough to make Vixen look over from her perch.
"Sounds good to me."
She led me through a doorway behind the counter to a break room. Vixen followed, apparently curious about the proceedings. Card table, two chairs, a mini-fridge, and a microwave that had seen better days.
"So here are tonight's dinner options," Flannery said, opening the freezer. "Salisbury steak that promises 'real meat flavor,' chicken alfredo that might actually have some chicken, or a southwest bowl that's probably more optimistic than accurate."
I couldn't help but grin at her honesty. "You make them sound appetizing."
"Hey, I'm just being realistic about what we're working with here. They were cheap and hopefully edible."
"I'll take the Salisbury steak."
She pulled out two boxes and read the instructions like she was following a recipe. "Five minutes in the microwave. Fair warning—I got these on clearance."
While we waited for the microwave, I looked around. Two jobs, clearance frozen dinners, that comment about the candles costing more than her groceries—Flannery was scraping by, maybe saving for something. Had to be. Nobody worked a second job in a place that made them this uncomfortable unless they needed every penny.
The microwave hummed. Wind howled outside, rattling the windows. Inside, the heating system kicked on with a low rumble, filling the silence.
When she handed me the plastic container and fork, I studied her. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear. How she pushed those glasses up when she was nervous, leaving a smudge on the lens. The curves that red velvet costume couldn't hide, though she kept trying to tug it into submission.
We sat across from each other at the card table. The fluorescent light hummed overhead.
"This is weird, right?" she said finally, poking at her soggy patty. "Eating questionable frozen dinners in the back room of an adult boutique during a blizzard?"
"I've had stranger Thursdays."
She laughed—a real one this time, not the nervous kind. "Really? Because this is definitely top five weird for me."
