Rhodes chuckles, jerks his chin toward Chloe. She’s already tugged my folding chair to the table and is arranging pieces of scrap fabric with careful precision. “I think she likes you too.”
I smile.
Rhodes lingers.
Then, apparently giving up on the notion of a quick fly by visit, he moves behind the table and straightens the towels that Chloe looked through.
“Thanks.”
He shrugs. “I have many skills.”
“Yeah?” I tease. “Do they include more than skating and shooting and leaving laundry baskets of clean clothes around?”
“Okay, that’s rude.”
“And Iknowkitten wrangling isn’t in your skill set.”
“Only because those aren’t kittens I adopted—they’re tiny demons.”
“Who’s rude now?”
“They’re not demons, Daddy. They’re kitty cats,” Chloe chimes in.
His lips twitch. “Fine. So I’m not an expert kitten handler, but Icanstand here and look intimidating.”
My brows lift in question.
“In case anyone tries to steal your stuff,” he explains.
I snort.
“You know,” an older woman says, making me jump and whip around. She winks at me then starts browsing the blankets. “Having an attractive man in your booth is a very effective sales strategy.”
Rhodes grins. “See? I’m useful already.”
Laughter bubbles up in my chest, but then I’m helping the woman and Rhodes is helping another customer with a blanket that’s clipped up in the back of the booth.
Over the next hour, I sell a few more blankets and several sets of towels and a couple of table runners and lots of potholders, and in between all of that I answer Chloe’s thousand questions.
When will I learn how to sew straight?
Why does some fabric come in squares?
Who decides what colors flowers should be?
Can cats use blankets?
Would Pear like one with fish on it?
Maybe it should be annoying.
Instead, it’s…nice.
Nice watching Chloe beam when I let her help me check out customers.
Nice watching Rhodes fold towels with absurd precision and keeping an eye on my booth.
Nice…feeling like I’m not alone for a change.
