Page 33 of Bidding on the Orc Outcast

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Posy rearranged the display of Varek’s candles for the third time that morning. The scents of lavender and pine drifted up, reminding her of his greenhouse. Was he there now, hiding away from the world? Or was he thinking about what she’d said? She’d meant what she told him about making up his mind if he wanted to be with her or not, but perhaps it wasn’t fair to expect him to overcome ten years of isolation so quickly.

The bell above the door chimed and she forced herself to focus on her customer. But as she wrapped vintage scarves and helped someone find the perfect second hand coffee table, her mind kept drifting back to the hunger in those amber eyes and the gentleness in those big hands.

“These smell amazing.” A customer held up one of the candles. “Where did you get them?”

“They’re made locally, actually.” Her chest tightened. “By someone who grows his own herbs.”

The woman bought three, and she wrapped them carefully, wondering if she should tell Varek how well they were selling. But he’d made it clear he wanted space, even if his kisses told a different story.

She glanced at her phone. No messages. Not that she expected any - he seemed like the type who’d rather trek through thorny bushes than send a text. Still, she kept hoping he’d decide to let her in.

She was rushed off her feet all morning and it wasn’t until after lunch that she had a moment to think. Sun slanted through her windows, catching the crystal wind chimes and sending rainbow patterns dancing across the floor. A pair of vintage brass candlesticks caught her eye, and she picked one up, studying its graceful curves.

Maybe she should suggest that he make tapers as well. And maybe she was being too hasty in giving up. After all, she’d come to Fairhaven Falls for a second chance herself.

She set down the candlestick as the shop door opened, letting in a blast of cold air. A woman slipped inside, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her coat was a lightweight denim jacket that belonged in spring, not the depths of winter. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her cheekbones stood sharp against pale skin. She would have been very pretty if she didn’t look so haunted.

The woman’s gaze swept the shop before landing on a rack of vintage dresses. Her fingers brushed over a 1950s cocktail dress in emerald silk.

“That’s a beautiful piece,” she said as she joined her. “Original buttons too.”

“The construction is amazing.” The woman lifted the sleeve, examining the French seams. “Look at this hand-stitched hem. You don’t see this kind of quality anymore.”

“You know your fashion.”

“I used to work in costume design.” The woman moved to a display of wool coats, her hands lingering on a camel hair beauty from the 1960s. “This is mohair blend, isn’t it? The nap is perfect.”

She nodded, impressed. Most customers couldn’t tell the difference between wool and synthetic, let alone identify specific fibers. The woman’s knowledge contrasted sharply with her worn jeans and thin jacket. She kept one arm crossed over her middle, as if holding herself together.

“Would you like to try anything on?” Posy gestured to the fitting room. “That green dress would look lovely with your coloring.”

The woman shook her head, quickly stepping back from the clothes.

“I-I’m just looking.” Her voice wavered slightly. “Everything’s gorgeous though. You have amazing taste.”

She watched as the woman moved to a basket of scarves, her fingers tracing the edge of a silk scarf, precise and gentle despite her trembling hands. There was something about the woman’s demeanor that tugged at her heart - a familiar mix of hope and desperation she recognized from her own days after the divorce.

The woman cleared her throat.

“I don’t suppose you’re… looking for help?” Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “I know I don’t have retail experience, but I learn fast and-”

“Actually, I could use someone.” The words came out before she had fully processed them, but they felt right. The shop had been getting busier, and she’d been thinking about hiring help. “Especially someone who knows vintage clothing.”

“Really?” The woman’s eyes widened hopefully.

“We could start with a two-week trial period.” She moved behind the counter and pulled out one of the application forms she’d printed out. “See if it’s a good fit for both of us.”

The transformation in the woman’s face was immediate - like sunshine breaking through storm clouds. Her smile lit up her whole face, erasing the shadows of exhaustion.

“I’m Nina.” She stepped forward, extending her hand. “And I promise you won’t regret this.”

“When would you like to start?”

“Would today be too soon?”

“Not at all.” She handed Nina the application. “You can fill this out after I show you around.”

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