Weird how one second he could make me want to drop my panties and the next I could say, “I think you should leave now.”
“For now. But I will see you soon.” Why did he make it sound so ominous?
The bells jingled as he left, and I crossed the shop quickly to lock the door in case he tried to come back. As I reached for the bolt, he turned and smiled at me through the window.
My nipples tightened, and something squeezed down below. What was going on with me? Some women had pre-menopause hot flashes. I had a case of the lusting. Pressing my lips—and thighs—tight, I locked the door and yanked down the shade.
The pulse between my legs went for a few more beats before subsiding.
That man. How he confused me, but even more, my body’s reaction baffled.
I didn’t trust or like Kane. If ever a guy oozed a “stay away, I’m bad news” vibe it was him. Yet he also made me wet.
These days he wasn’t the only one to get my motor running. I eyeballed men like I would a hunk of steak, looking for something juicy I could sink my teeth into. It was disconcerting, especially because it kept happening. Even worse, I didn’t just crave one man; I craved many. I didn’t know how it happened, but since the divorce, I’d become a horny teenager.
Something happened to me when my husband asked for a divorce. I went from having no sex life to wanting one. Now every guy I met went through some mental checklist.
Single? Employed? Not too old? Not too young?
I judged all the guys I ran into. Had a few that I wouldn’t have minded getting to know better. Darryl, for example, had asked me to dinner. Jace, the next-door neighbor, kept popping by and offering to do manly stuff for me, like stacking wood. Even Orville appeared to be flirting in his own way, concocting low-carb dishes that he insisted I try.
Then there was Kane, the most untrustworthy of them all. He thought I’d care if he went away?
He was right. I did. I was happy he’d be gone because I wanted nothing to do with him.
I’d taken a step from the door when there was a knock. Immediately, my body tightened. He’d come back. My hand went to my hair. Had he come to insist on a goodbye kiss? How should I reply?
The fact I even wondered gave me the answer. I turned from the door.
Tap. Tap. “Naomi? You in there?”
It wasn’t Kane, and I suddenly felt stupid for even thinking it might be. I recognized the voice. Darryl. I quickly spun around and unlocked the door so he could come in.
“Hey, what are you doing here?”
Darryl looked good, if different than Kane with his smart suit. Darryl was a workingman with jeans and a T-shirt tucked into them and, over it, a jean jacket he’d left unbuttoned. The hem of his pants slouched over his construction boots, mostly unlaced and scuffed.
“Thought I’d pop in and see how the store was coming along.”
“It’s going great,” I said with a smile and a sweep of my hand. “Tada!”
He stepped in. “It’s looking good.”
“But a bit empty.” What seemed like lots of merchandise when I carted it in now seemed rather paltry spread out.
“Meaning you might have room for more, maybe on consignment?” he asked.
I blinked at the request. “I’d not thought about it, but I guess I could. You got some stuff you want to sell?”
He nodded. “A bunch of things in the basement, attic, and even the loft in the garage. Got all kinds of junk. I mean, cool shit. My dad hoarded everything, including things he inherited from my grandparents.”
“What do you want to get rid of?”
“All of it,” he stated with a laugh. “Or at least the stuff you think is worth selling. The rest I can just donate to the church or something.”
I felt a need to be honest. “I don’t know if I’ll sell anything. I’ve never run a business before.” I’d gone on a major limb with this place.
“Which is why consignment works for both of us. I only get paid if you sell. And you’re not out anything to try it.”
He made some good points. “What kind of split are you thinking?”
“Fifty-fifty sound good?”
It sounded too good. I frowned. “That’s too much.”
“Then how much?”
“I haven’t the slightest clue. I don’t know anything. What am I thinking? I can’t do this.” Instant panic hit.
“Calm down,” he drawled. “You’ll be fine. Just pre-opening nerves. If it helps, I usually mark up store product about thirty percent.”
“That sounds more reasonable.”
“Then we’ve got a deal.” He held out his hand.
I wanted to grab it, but instead, I shook my head. “Before I agree to anything, I should see what you’ve got first.” What if it truly was junk?
“That makes sense and is no problem at all. When do you want to come over?”
Glancing around, I made a snap decision. “How about now?” Before I had to replace Marjorie at the diner.
“Uh, sure. I brought the bike. You wanna go for a ride?”
Since I was supposed to be considering taking some of his stuff, I really should bring my car.
My hormones spoke for me. “I’d love that. Just let me lock up.”
There was something satisfying and hot about getting on that motorcycle behind Darryl, a guy who’d gotten more fit since we met, or maybe I didn’t eye him as critically as before. Whatever the case, I enjoyed wrapping my arms around him and leaning my head against his coat and not only because it felt good. The helmet didn’t have a face shield, so I needed him to block the wind.
“Ready?” he asked as he revved the engine.
“Yes.” With my assent, we were on our way.
In the movies, when we see a woman go off with a man to a secluded location, we expect one of two things to happen. A) She gets murdered, or B) she gets laid.
Or in my case C) Darryl actually showed me his damned antiques.
His house proved to be an old farmhouse style. The paint, while not peeling, had certainly faded. He had a wide wrap-around porch with the obligatory pair of rockers.
What I didn’t expect was the dog.
The moment he shut off the bike, I heard it howling and whining. But that wasn’t the freakiest part of it. While I didn’t mind animals, I was still new to them, having only a cat, and cats don’t body slam the door at their person’s arrival.
Boom. Boom. Scratch. I swear I saw the door shuddering.
“He’ll calm down once I open it.”
Or it would eat us both.
Darryl’s dog, for all it had a big voice, still appeared to be a puppy, a gangly-legged furball that flew out the door and attacked him. At least that’s how it seemed given this massive black beast pounced on Darryl, yipping and bouncing. I didn’t see blood, but there appeared to be a rather long tongue trying to wash him.
The man appeared embarrassed as he tried to pet the dog, muttering, “Calm down, Herbie.”
“Herbie?” I repeated with a giggle.
The mention of its name turned the pup’s attention to me. Its lips peeled back to show some teeth, and it growled.
Oh dear. I took a step back.
“Don’t show fear,” Darryl advised.
Great advice that I might have followed if the rabid beast hadn’t advanced.