Trish turned from the gift card rack and moved towards the houseware aisle. “It was good to see you.”
His brow furrowed. “That’s it. No further conversation?”
That was the idea. She had realized from nearly their first meeting that it was far too pleasant to be standing close to Henry and talking, and the more time she spent with him the more pleasant, and, therefore, dangerous, it became.
“The store closes in,” she looked at her phone, “ten minutes.” That seemed like a good reason to be scurrying away from him.
“I know, but if you’re looking for something in this section of the store, I can assure you that, with my help, you’ll be out of here even faster than if I hadn’t interrupted you. What do you need?”
She couldn’t argue with that. “A small strainer with a handle. Mine broke last night and duct tape is not a long-term solution.” Though it had saved her spaghetti supper.
“Third aisle down on our right,” he replied without so much as a moment’s thought. “So, you’re not shopping for last minute gifts?”
She shook her head. “Nope. I have all the ones I need.” Which was a larger number this year than last.
“Then, if I may be so forward, why the gift card?”
She cast a sidelong glance at him. “It was just an impulsive thought. It wouldn’t get there by tomorrow anyway.” And it wouldn’t buy her what she wanted.
“A late gift is not a horrible thing.”
She took a strainer that looked exactly like the one she had used for years until it broke last night from the shelf. “Sales tactics won’t work. I already decided.”
His eyes widened. “I wasn’t trying to sell you a gift card. Honest. I just wanted to let you know that not everyone would think poorly of you for sending a late gift.”
“You don’t know my parents.” She pressed her lips together and turned away from him and studied the handle of the strainer she held. She hadn’t meant to say that. She took a step away.
His hand wrapped gently around her elbow. “Your parents would think poorly of you for sending a present late?”
She couldn’t ignore him when he was talking so gently and making her arm tingle by holding it. So she turned back towards him. When she looked at him, the concern for her in his expression was so intense she could feel it. How did she explain this without giving too much away?
“Perhaps not for that,” she said…
[from Don’t Tell My Heart It Can Heal]
image source: depositphotos
