Page 6 of Henhouse
Effie scoured the box. “What are the flavors?” Basil scowled. “What? I don’t like being surprised.”
“Says the girl who is surprised with tastes all day long.”
“Precisely why I like to pick my food with intention.” Effie sized up the chocolates. She recognized the ones that had coarse salt ground on top as her favorite from the local chocolate shop. It coated her taste buds in its caramel, salty sweetness, and the moan that escaped Effie’s lips was near indecent.
Shame had her wincing beneath Basil’s scandalized gaze, but Effie played it off the best she could. “What can I say? Those chocolates are better than sex.” Basil’s brows flew up, ready to spew the retort that Effie knew was coming. “Don’t!” Basil surrendered and went back to work on his scarf. But it was a fact. Effie had succumbed to the draw of those chocolates on more than one occasion. The same could not be said of sex.
With a shake of her head, she rattled the seeds of her insecuritiesback out of her awareness. It didn’t do to dwell too long on what shewas not.
Another hour passed in near silence but for the comforting clack of Basil’s knitting needles and the prattle of a pair of teachers on lunch hour in need of more craft glue.
Effie looked out to the street. A blue work van parked in front of the store. A young man came around from the driver’s side, stopping short with agitation, his jaw tensing as he spun around. When he emerged again, he carried the clipboard he’d apparently forgotten. He checked over the board, and Effie found herself hoping that he would come into the store.
The bell on the front door chimed.
Effie straightened, smoothing her lilac apron over the front of her light-wash jeans that had flowers she’d embroidered herself poking out from the back pocket. The subtle gesture always brought forth a giggle from Basil. Effie knew it was because she took this job more seriously than he did. He was passing through as he pursued a degree in finance at the University of New Hampshire and would eventually be led to Boston and a high-rise office in the financial district. Effie herself hadn’t gone to college and bounced from job to job after high school until her crafty obsessions and knack for creative projects landed her behind the counter of Glitter & Glue three years ago.
She took the giggle in stride and made herself available for eye contact as the young man entered and meandered through the aisles. He paused briefly at the display of leather-bound journals on a turnstile beside the luxurious fountain pens. Effie made an effort to look between him and the rest of the store. Many people preferred not to be approached unless they looked like they needed something, so shedid her best to stay behind the counter unless absolutely necessary.
It was hard not to admire him though. He was strikingly handsome, and her heart fluttered like it stirred to meet Hope’s challenge—to put herself out there. Instead she let her eyes trace the broad lines of his shoulders and the dimple that played at his cheek while he looked over the journals. Effie couldn’t tear her gaze away.
She hoped it wasn’t obvious as he approached the counter. “Is there a manager I can speak with?” he asked, his voice dry and disinterested.
Effie shot Basil a look. “We’re not really staffed like that. But I guess if it was anyone, it would be Henrietta.” Basil nodded his agreement.
“Okay, well, can I speak to her then?” the man asked, and Effie noted the exasperation in his tone.
“She doesn’t work Mondays,” Effie explained. “You’re stuck with me.”
“Fucking perfect,” the man muttered, not quite under his breath.
Effie glanced at the clipboard in his hand. “What is it that you need?” Effie asked, her tone taking on a similar edge.
“I’m here for your safety inspection. I was told that a manager would be present today to go over everything.”
“Well, I wasn’t informed, but I don’t see why we shouldn’t be able to handle it.”
He gave her a tight smile that barely looked friendly below the brush of stubble that stretched across his upper lip and over his angular jaw. He held Effie’s stare, and she decided that she hadn’t made such intense eye contact since icebreaker games at summer camp when she was fourteen. “Let’s start with the storage room, shall we?”
He pointed toward the back, the tilt of his head an inquiry. Effie nodded in agreement. The young man strode toward the storageroom, and Effie followed. She quickly looked back to Basil.
His giddy eyes were wide. Biting his lower lip and fanning himself dramatically, he looked ready to swoon. Effie shot him a warning glare then hurried to catch up.
She followed the man around the stacks of boxes to the large overhead door in the back. As they walked in silence, he took notes on his clipboard. He tested an emergency light, but it didn’t stay on long. The rest of the lights were dim. They sputtered and buzzed.
“Great, more dark rooms,” he bemoaned.
“What?” Effie asked, not understanding why this person was being so surly. He couldn’t be more than twenty-seven. He was too young and entirely too handsome to be this jaded.
“Nothing,” he replied and went back to his inspection, pausing only to tame a rebellious piece of hair that dared flop into his eyes.
The thick blond waves waxed in place atop his head softened his strong brow and sharp hazel eyes. The curve of his knuckles and the ink deposited beneath his nails gave Effie the impression that he dabbled in the arts. His broad, strong neck required him to leave the top button of his navy-blue uniform undone, revealing the prominent collarbone beneath the thin white of his undershirt.
He was a man made up of contrasts. There was a softness in his gaze where his features were all hard lines and ridges. He styled his hair and wore round black glasses that were at odds with his literal blue-collar attire. The ring on his pointer finger paired with the leather-banded watch made Effie want to know what he did when he wasn’t performing safety checks.
And his hair. In spite of herself, she kept getting distracted by his hair and her inane desire to run her fingers through it. She hadn’tbeen this instantly attracted to anyone since the first time she watchedAladdinand decided she would one day be Mrs. Street Rat. But her cartoon crush was much less prickly.
Perhaps the young man didn’t always wear this edge. She let herself imagine that, in fact, he was having an off day and otherwise would have come in smiling and leaving with a new inkwell and calligraphy pen.
