Page 65 of Kiss the Girl
“Yeah, but this year, you’re here, and it’s going to get even better.” Last year, he’d been so ill that he hadn’t even gotten out of bed on Thanksgiving.
“I think a lot of it has to do with Paige’s window,” he said. “She’s got a good head on her shoulders. Like her brother.”
That was as big of a hint as he would ever drop trying to get a feel for what lay between Noah and I, but since I had no answers, I ignored that part.
“Paige is the best employee we’ve ever hired,” I said. “You should consider keeping her on when I leave.”
“How soon will that be?” he asked.
“Right after the New Year,” I said. “Things are looking good for getting on with a new team at Boeing.”
He nodded and looked as if he were mulling it for a moment. Then he mustered a smile. “I’m proud of you, honey. I’d be lying if I said we could have made it through all this without you here, and I’ll miss you like crazy when you go. But I’ll be happy to see you putting that degree I paid for to work doing something besides selling nuts and bolts to grumpy old men.”
“I don’t even do that much because they don’t listen to me,” I joked. Except not really.
As if to prove my point, a man in his seventies approached us and looked at my dad. “I’m looking for a welding torch to do some minor patches. You got anything in stock?”
“That’s Grace here’s area of expertise,” my dad said, gesturing to me.
The customer ran an eye over me, and whether it was because of my age or my boobs, he sniffed and turned to my dad. “You can just show me.”
I could see my dad getting ready to insist that the customer let me help him, but I gave a small shake of my head. This had been happening literally since the first day I’d ever worked in the store, never mind that I’d grown up in it. I was done trying to change the minds of men who’d already made them up about what I might know. I wouldn’t miss this part at all. AT ALL.
If my dad decided to hire Paige on full-time and she accepted, I’d have to make sure I gave her a customized name tag: Expert Despite My Boobs.
Well. Maybe “I Promise I Can Help You.”
The day kept racing along as we served the holiday traffic and bargain seekers, but a text from Noah brought it to a screeching halt.
Noah:Can we talk when you’re done with work today?
There was no question what he wanted to talk about. That delicious, infuriating kiss that had hijacked my train of thought every three minutes today.
I wanted to say no. I still didn’t know what to think about it. But there would be no avoiding Noah, and Brooke was going to pin me down for a conversation on the subject soon anyway.
But I tapped out a reply.
Grace:Sounds good. Come over to my place @7:00.
Noah:Should I bring dinner?
Grace:No. Planning to live on Miss Lily’s leftovers forever.
Noah:Smart.
For the rest of the afternoon, even though we stayed busy all day, time dragged instead of flew, not because I was dreading seeing Noah but because I wanted to see him badly.
Which, again…problem.
My dad sent me home at six when the store closed and promised he could lock up without help.
“What are you doing here?” my mom asked when I walked into the house ten minutes later.
“I’m done with work.”
“But you need to close up.”
“Dad’s closing up.”
