But I do smile from ear to ear as I walk to Nana’s ancient car.
CHAPTER TEN
Silas
Betsy arrivesat Harp and Hemline just minutes after I do Monday morning. She’s dressed in a floral skirt and light pink top that must have come from my sister. She paired it with her black boots and ten pounds of metal in her ears.
“Is your skin itching?” I ask by way of greeting.
She shuts the door behind her and walks to where I’m standing behind the register to drop off her backpack. “Skin itching?”
I point at her outfit, trying not to stare at the long length of leg that’s visible under the skirt. She’s so pale she’d give a ghost a run for their money, but I know for a fact her skin is silky smooth like porcelain. “You know, from all the pink and flowers?”
She flips me off, which makes me grin like an idiot. Something must be wrong with my brain for liking her spunk. I guess I’ve just never met a woman like her. All the women I’ve dated, from high school on, have been true Southern charmers. The type who’d smile through a root canal because frowning served no purpose except to cause wrinkles.
“I’ve got an order all ready to go. Want to take a look and see if it’s any good?”
Betsy pushes into my side to get a look at the computer monitor. A waft of something sweet hits my nose, which confuses me. I figured Betsy would wear a perfume that smells like motor oil and bad decisions. I don’t move out of her way. I tell myself it’s because if I give her an inch, she’ll take a mile, but it’s mostly because I just like the way she feels pressed against me. Her nearness makes my heart race in a way I haven’t felt in a long while. In a way I’d given up hope of feeling ever again.
Now, the racing heart might be because letting her get close invites her to induce physical harm just as much as something along the lines of romance. She’s as liable to stab me as she is to let me kiss her. And whooey, that thought just revs my engine for some reason.
“I think everything but those jeans. They’re sick of high-rise and want mid-rise. Not low-rise where underwear shows, but a return to something more moderate.” Betsy points to the screen.
I quickly wrestle my thoughts back to business and delete the order for high-rise jeans. Betsy swivels her head and locks her gaze with mine. She’s so close I can see each individual lash on her wide eyes. Belatedly, I realize she’s grimacing, not exactly the expression I was hoping for being this close.
“I’m nervous. What if I’m guiding you in the wrong direction?”
A smile lights up my face. Self-deprecation is my forte. “Have you seen what I bought? Believe me, nothing can be worse.” I point over her shoulder to the clearance rack that’s stuffed to the gills with items the mamas didn’t want from the spring season.
Betsy snorts and I find that attractive too. Shit, am I obsessing over my employee? What the heck is goin’ on here? She promised not to listen to my father and somehow that’s enough for me to feel like we’re close now? That’s ridiculous,though it did feel damn good to know someone else sees through the polished front my father puts up around town.
“Even I know those are hideous,” she drawls, mouth turned up at the corners.
My mouth drops open. “Did I just hear a Southern accent out of you, Betsy Mae?”
She drills me right in the abs with her finger, making me jump back with a bark of surprise. The door opens at the same time, the little bell overhead ringing out. We both turn to see who’s arrived, smiles on our faces from our teasing.
“Well, now, don’t let me interrupt,” Effie calls out, a mother of two high school kids in town. She bounces her eyebrows suggestively, which makes me drop the smile real quick. You gotta watch out for these mamas around here. They can start a rumor faster than a house fire in the middle of a summer windstorm.
“Come on in, y’all!” Betsy calls out, zero enthusiasm in her voice, but thick with an exaggerated drawl. “I’s fixin’ to head to the back anyway.” She turns to me, sticks her tongue out the side of her mouth and crosses her eyes. I choke over a laugh. Dear God, we’ll have to work on her accent. That was bad.
Effie shops around while I place the clothing order. I’ll add to it later, but I want to get the first wave of new clothing in to see how it does. She ends up buying a pair of linen pants and a stretchy tank top. While I ring up her purchase, she leans over the counter, gearing up for a chat.
“Sooo, date any nice girls recently?”
Warning bells are ringing loud and clear. Being single at the ripe old age of forty, I’ve had my fair share of conversations just like this one with every busybody in town. I know it’s coming from a good place, they just want to see me coupled and happy, but I don’t want to be the subject of a rumor. Last time my name was tied to a woman’s in the gossip chain, I got slapped in theface. Long story, but suffice it to say, I don’t want my name in gossipers’ mouths.
“Oh, you know. Just living my life while keeping my eyes open.” I gesture to the card reader and get busy wrapping her clothes in tissue paper before putting it in a logo’d gift bag and handing it over. Her credit card goes through, and I tuck the receipt inside the bag too.
Effie purses her lips and eyes me like she knows I’m not telling the full truth but she’s too polite to drag it out of me. She harrumphs, thanks me for the clothes, and heads out.
I find Betsy in the back, cleaning out the storage room so we’ll have room for the new clothes to come in and be hung. She’s sweeping the floor, officially making this the cleanest the room’s ever been. I fold my arms across my chest and watch her.
“You know you’ll need to learn the register at some point, right? And customer service?”
Betsy doesn’t bother to look up from her meticulous sweeping. “Really? I’m probably most effective back here. Away from people.”
I’m already shaking my head before she’s done talking. “No way. I need your help out there. Those women need to see another woman, especially when it comes to the fitting room. And besides, just look at it as personal growth.”
