Page 65 of Bayside Heat
“Thanks. I’ll be sure to remember to do that.” Gavin slid her business card into his suit pocket as they left the showroom.
“You really are a woman whisperer.”
He flirted with every saleswoman, but he was suave in his designer suit and purple tie, laying on the charm just thick enough to leave the women wanting more. And yet he’d been a perfect gentleman with Serena since she’d told him she had a boyfriend, which showed that he had at least some modicum of morals.
He smirked. “The Wheeler charm is a burden.”
“I bet,” she said sarcastically.
“Seriously. Just ask my brother, Beckett. He swears fending off women is a full-time job.”
“And you?”
A puckish look sparked in his eyes. “A gentleman never tells.”
“Ah, so you’re a gentlemanly woman whisperer. Got it. Are you from Boston?” she asked as they headed for the elevators.
“No. I’m from Oak Falls, Virginia, where everyone knows your name and your secrets.”
“That sounds ominous. I guess you had a lot of secrets to escape?” she said as they rode the elevator up to the second floor.
“I wanted more than Oak Falls had to offer,” he finally said as they stepped off the elevator. “Not much has changed about how business is done here over the years. But the Market Stalls are pretty amazing.”
She followed him toward the west wing. “Nice subject change.”
“I have many talents.”
Goose bumps rose on her arms as the Market Stalls came into view, featuring high-end antiques dealers with goods from around the world.
“Wow. This is even more incredible than I remember.” Being here was exhilarating.
“I know. This is my favorite part. I love the high-end contemporary designs, but there’s nothing like finding the right period piece to anchor a room.”
“Agreed,” she said as they made their way through room after room of an eclectic mix of furniture, lighting, and art from the seventeenth through the twentieth centuries. “There are so many antique shops on the Cape. Some are ridiculous, you know, where they call a 1989 table a fine antique.” She made air quotes as she said antique. “But some are incredible. I love knowing that every antique has a story. I want to know what each piece would say if they could tell us what they’d seen over the years.”
“A good shop owner can tell you that.” He cocked a brow. “Or make up something.”
She laughed. “Yeah. That’s true, sort of. But you know what I mean.”
They meandered through the displays, commenting on pieces and showing each other which looks they gravitated toward and why. Gavin introduced her to several vendors. He was as charming with the men as he was with the women, and Serena realized he simply knew how to work a room. She’d always thought she was a master at that, but she was more of a hugger and more likely to ask about people’s families and personal lives once she knew them well. Those were things she needed to get over in this industry. At least in the heart of Boston, where she wouldn’t see clients at the beach, flea markets, or local concerts.
“Where did you source materials at the Cape?” Gavin asked as they made their way back downstairs.
“Locally, of course. At least as often as I could. Someone needs to support the local economy. We may be small, but we have incredible shops. Have you been there?”
“Twice, when I first moved to Boston. But life gets busy, you know? And all the things you hoped to do get put on the back-burner.”
“Gosh. I hope not too much. I love my life back home. I’m heading back this weekend.”
“Good luck with weekend traffic. It’ll take you several hours instead of one and a half.”
“Oh, shoot. I hadn’t thought about that.” She knew how awful traffic was on the weekends. He was right. It would take her forever to get there.
“I can see you stressing. Do you want to call your cookie beau?”
“His name is Drake,” she said with a smile. “I’ll call him later. I’m sure he’s busy with the resort.”
As they left the building, Gavin said, “Do you still want to get food to take back to the office, or did you say that to impress the juniors?”
