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“I think that just about does it,” I said, stepping back to survey my work from the side with a satisfied sigh.

“I hope you sprinkled a little magic into that display,” Hugh said, stacking the half-filled boxes from the latest order on the cart we used to move things between the stockroom and the shop’s retail space. “You need to draw more people in here or you won’t be able to afford my salary anymore.”

My smile faltered a little as I glanced back to him. Hugh wore a kind smile for me, but his expression was filled with underlying tension. I looked around the empty store, then out at the potential shoppers rushing up and down Glenside Avenue…and not coming inside.

“It’ll be fine,” I said, making a show of dusting off my hands, then walking back over to the counter. “It’s just the adjustment period. We made a splash at the grand opening. It’s only natural that there will be a lull before people start shopping for the holidays.”

“Mmm hmm,” Hugh hummed doubtfully, grabbing the cart’s handle to wheel it back to the storeroom.

“Really,” I insisted. “The place I used to work for in New York always made a killing during the holiday season. It was their best time of year.”

“And how long had they been established for?” Hugh asked before disappearing into the storeroom without waiting for my answer.

I refused to frown, even though it was a concern. I also refused to think about the statistics of survival rates for new businesses, especially ones as niche as Provisions. I wasn’t going to let anything as banal as market projections and accounting dampen my spirits. I had an almost-maybe boyfriend who was interesting and hot and who actually wanted me in return.

At least, I was mostly sure he wanted me. We hadn’t, you know, had the conversation or anything. We hadn’t done anything more than kiss those few times and get each other off, once apiece. And we hadn’t gone out for a date or anything.

Come to think of it, I had sort of sprung dinner on Bastian twice now when he’d come over to my house for ghost hunting. Neither of us had really asked the other out formally. At least, not in a way that would involve us being seen together in public. Sure, there’d been hints and suggestions, but no actual invites.

“Have I made this whole thing up?” I murmured quietly to the scarecrow with a big, button grin that I’d set up next to a display of apple flavored treats.

I shook my head, telling myself to stop being silly. I hadn’t made things up. I was certain Bastian really liked me and that we had more than just a casual flirtation with occasional orgasms. The doubts were coming from whatever part of me still worried that I wasn’t enough, that I couldn’t be what a man really wanted, I was too short, too perky, too gay.

“Thanks, Dad,” I muttered and rolled my eyes as I walked back to the counter and grabbed the plate of apple cider donut holes I’d sourced from a local farmer. My anxiety totally had its roots in the way my dad had kicked me out when I turned eighteen and how I’d never been the man he wanted me to be. I didn’t need a psychologist to tell me that one.

That didn’t mean his disapproval hadn’t affected every day of my life.

My dad was probably the reason I was so determined to make the other business owners in our little strip of shops, and everyone in Glenside, really, like me. I had to be actively liked, otherwise I started to panic that I was actively despised by everyone.

It seemed rude to bring samples of baked goods into Common Grounds in the middle of the afternoon when they sold their own donuts and pastries, so with a quick wave at Chase and Emily through the window, I continued down to Bloomin’ Heck, the flower shop that anchored the other end of the strip of shops.

I tried not to take it personally that there was a line of three customers waiting for service at their counter and none at my place.

“Can I help you?” Ivy, the grey-haired, bohemian owner asked from the workstation behind the counter, where the cute guy I was pretty sure was her son dealt with the customers.

I wished she’d greeted me with more recognition and neighborliness, but at least she wore a smile, albeit a stressed one.

“Hello, Ivy, right?” I asked, as if I hadn’t immediately memorized the names of all of the business owners in the area.

“Oh, right. Marco Andreotti, the owner of the new cheese shop,” she said, her smile turning more genuine. “How can I help you?”

I grinned in relief, stepped closer to the counter, and held up the plate of donut holes. “Would you mind if I shared some provisions from Provisions with your customers?”

The three people in line immediately turned to see what was on offer. Their faces lit up when they saw the donut holes.

“Not at all,” Ivy said, coming out from behind the counter to take a look. She drew in a breath as she came close. “Those smell delicious.”

“They’re from the bakers at Solly Brothers farm,” I announced, offering the plate to the customers once Ivy was munching her treat. “We have boxes of them and donuts for sale over at Provisions,” I announced hopefully as Ivy’s customers stepped out of line to help themselves.

Ivy laughed and took another donut hole. “I don’t know if this is a brilliant way for you to expand your business or if you’re going to run yourself into bankruptcy the way you’ve been sharing so much lately,” she said.

I tried not to let her comment worry me. “I’m just trying to make friends with the locals,” I said, indomitable smile in place.

Ivy’s expression tweaked into mischief. “You’re doing a good job of that, from what I’ve seen and heard these last few days.”

“I have?” I asked, hope and worry battling for supremacy in me.

Ivy’s grin grew. “I hear you and Bastian Gorman have been spotted in each other’s company more than a few times in the last week.”