I want her to light up when she sees me, the way she does for Meg.
And I want those things more than I want to tease her about her friend’s comment.
But only a little bit more.
I grab some supplies out of my truck and head over to the bookshop, where I knock twice.
Enough time passes that I’ve just about given up when I hear light footsteps.
“Hey,” she says, opening up. “Sorry, I had to put some stuff down.”
“Hey,” I say, taking her in.
She’s wearing jeans and a threadbare sweater again. Her hair is messy, like the little tendrils have slid their way out of her ponytail because they want to caress her neck as much as I do. Her cheeks are flushed, and it’s clear that she’s been working hard.
She is exquisitely beautiful.
“Um,” she hedges, tearing her eyes away and making me remember why I’m here.
“I just came by to paint the window trim,” I tell her, lifting the bag I’m carrying. “Is now an okay time?”
“Of course,” she replies. “And that’s really nice of you.”
“Not really,” I tell her. “After all, I’m the one who broke it.”
“I guess you’re right,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “I’m just going to keep going with the shelves.”
“Of course,” I tell her.
I go to get set up, but when I realize what she’s doing, I’m so surprised I just watch her instead.
Last night she said her plan was to move the shelves so she could pull up the rest of the carpet. And that’s exactly what she’s doing now. But… well, she’s a tiny woman, and the shelves are pretty big.
I’m not sure what I pictured, but it wasn’t her grabbing a seven-foot-high shelf and lifting one side, straining to move it a few inches, and then scurrying over to do the same thing on the other side. No wonder she looks like she’s been getting a workout.
“I know,” she pants when she catches me looking. “But I can’t really afford professional movers right now.”
“You don’t need them,” I tell her, dropping my stuff. “Where do you want that?”
She points to the opposite wall and I move to her, gesturing her out of the way before I grab the thing in a semi-bear hug and walk it over to the spot she pointed to.
“Here?” I ask, turning back to her.
But she’s gazing at me with her lips parted and wonder in those pretty brown eyes.
I’ve never been one to thrive on a woman’s admiration, but I could get used to this.
She nods slowly and I lower the thing to the ground.
“Why don’t I get the rest of them?” I offer.
“I’m not going to argue with that,” she says right away.
“Just tell me where you want them,” I tell her.
She walks me around to point out the new locations. It’s interesting that she wants them running from the outside wall toward the inside, which is the opposite of how they were before.
But as soon as I’ve got a couple of them where she wants them, I see what she’s going for. Jessie had the shelves going front to back. That created longer aisles and didn’t take advantage of the natural light from the windows that face the lot.
