Page 34 of Bidding on a Second Chance
“Nope. I’ve got it.” She sidestepped to avoid a customer at the last moment, then pivoted toward the nearest rack of clothing to start restocking. “I think Piper could use you, though.”
He squelched the grin that wanted to advertise how he felt about the suggestion. As he turned for the register and laid eyes on her, a sense of being exactly where he wanted to be settled over him.
Piper had maneuvered her scooter into the small space behind the counter and stood with her knee resting on it as she checked out customers. As soon as she finished with one, another got in line. The clip holding her hair had half let go, and the flush on her cheeks indicated she was either warm from working or flustered and stressed.
He touched her arm. “What do you need from me?”
“Graham.” Relief washed over her face, and he committed the moment to memory. Her saying his name, obviously grateful to see him. “How’d it go?”
“Sold out.”
Her shoulders rounded. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”
“I ordered from the website already so they couldn’t sell out too.”
“Oh. Great. I’ll pay you back.” She deftly checked out the next customer, her responses to the shopper on autopilot. She’d probably parroted the same few phrases three dozen times already this morning. As she began the next sale, she angled toward him. “We’re having the same problem here, selling out of stuff. I need to get more inventory out of the back. Do you think you can take over checkout?”
“If restocking involves carrying things, I might be better at that.”
“I’m afraid picking out which clothes to add to the racks is more nuanced.”
“All right. I’ll ring up sales, but you’d better walk me through a couple of transactions.”
“Okay.” Piper finished the one she was working on and handed the customer her shopping bag, then motioned him close enough to read the screen on the tablet she used to manage transactions. She explained details about tags and cash versus credit transactions in between answering customer questions and completing sales, but Graham could only half listen.
Her perfect fingers tapped the tablet screen. She had a whole system set up—because of course she did. It was part of running a successful small business. But all this reminded him of what he’d liked about her. She was dedicated. She had a way with people. She cared enough to figure out exactly what they wanted, even when they couldn’t put it in words, like when one lady came up and started talking about how she was going to see her ex on Christmas Eve.
Piper pointed to a rack on the far wall. “There’s a rust-red sweater over there. It’s unbelievably soft and has the perfect neckline.” She motioned over her own collarbone. If he read the movement correctly, the perfect neckline was a wide V. “Comfy as can be, classy enough for a church service, and pretty enough to give you that boost, you know?”
Apparently, the lady did know, because she zipped away to find the recommendation.
Without seeming to realize how amazing it was that she’d figured out what the customer wanted by the little she’d said, Piper dove back into his checkout lesson.
Had she ever made wardrobe choices based on whether she was going to see him? Maybe that was why she’d looked unbearably perfect after their breakup. Here he’d thought his longing simply stemmed from how out of reach she’d suddenly become.
Of course, there was never much fault to find in Piper’s appearance, whether she’d considered him while choosing her outfits or not. She always looked pulled together. Usually in winter, that involved jeans and soft sweaters. The one she wore today was ivory, and when her sleeve brushed his forearm, his longing was back with a vengeance.
This was the sweetest kind of torture. Nevertheless, torture was torture. He’d told her to go on a date with someone else—with someone else—in a moment of believing the lie that he wanted to help her deal with her fears so she wouldn’t break the next guy’s heart.
Hehatedthe thought of the next guy.
From here on out, he’d endure whatever torture came his way, but not another word out of his mouth was going to help the next guy. He was in this for himself and for Piper, and if he had his way, there’d be no next guy.
* * *
Piper could hardly breathe for how much space Graham took up behind the counter. The hints of spice in his cologne or aftershave—or whatever that was—blended with the shop’s potpourri, rendering her every inhale as warm and sweet as a cup of mulled cider.
She fluffed her sweater away from her torso and told herself she wasn’t overheating because of Graham. She shouldn’t have chosen today for the thick material, even if it was cropped to the perfect length to pair with these jeans. All the customers and the fast pace really had her going. She fanned the sweater again, then finished checking out the customer who was in the show-him-he-lost-the-best-he-ever-had stage of her breakup.
Piper hadn’t really needed that stage when she’d broken up with Graham. He hadn’t wanted to lose her in the first place, and he’d never been the careless boyfriend her customer had complained about a few times over the last three months.
Maybe, in her own case, Piper had been the careless one, because she was having a definite moment of I-lost-the-best-I-ever-had. Graham had to be the best. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t listen patiently as she fumbled through a million directions, half of which he probably didn’t even need.
But the facts hadn’t changed. Love came with risk. Besides, he wasn’t even tempted by her. He wanted her to date someone else. And today’s disappointment couldn’t have inspired goodwill with Bryce. She needed to get out from behind this counter and to the back room, where clothes she hadn’t yet ticketed waited for her. “Got it?”
Graham’s brow furrowed, his gaze fixed on the screen of the tablet. “If something goes wrong, you won’t be far.”
True, but her hormones needed at least an hour of breathing less delectable air, or she couldn’t guarantee what she might do. “I’ll be in the back, but Ally knows how all of this works.” She rolled her scooter, meaning to leave.
