“Dinner?” She bit her lip. “I don't understand.”
“Or drinks, if you prefer. I know a bunch of great bars. Of course, it'd be my treat.”
She studied me, dumbfounded. Behind me, some irate customer yelled for my attention. Too bad for him I wasn't going anywhere until I got her answer.
“Are you asking me out?” Her face turned even redder. “You're seriously asking me on a date now, of all times? And with another woman's lipstick on you, no less.”
“Well, you wanted to talk about finding me a 'wife,' right? Might as well have a good meal while we're at it.”
She hesitated, as if considering it. “But you told me you're not getting married. What's there to discuss, then?”
I was still rock-hard for her. Right now, all that mattered to me was finding a way to get her out of those pants.
“I guess you're right. Talking's overrated, anyway.” I flashed a smile. “Maybe I'm just trying to find an excuse to get you into my arms.”
My pick-up lines rarely failed, and charming the ladies was as easy as pie for me. So easy, in fact, I had jealous friends begging me for advice.
But for whatever reason, Sarah seemed less than impressed by my moves.
“You've got to be kidding me!” She glared and crossed her arms. “I can't believe you. You've got some nerve hitting on me right now. We're both in trouble; don't you get that? This is serious.”
“Of course I get it. I just so happen to do all my very best brainstorming in the bedroom.”
She groaned with frustration and pushed past me. I gazed hungrily at her curvy butt as she made her way to the sliding doors.
“I'm offering to help you, and that's that,” she said as the doors opened and frigid air blew in. “If you ever decide to grow up, you know where to find me.”
She disappeared in a cloud of snow. I stood there, unable to move, as a dozen strange emotions warred inside me.
I didn't give a shit what dad said; I wasn't marrying anyone. Surely, he'd come to his senses before it was too late. He'd realize how stupid he was being.
But Sarah wanted to “talk about it.” If that got me any closer to undressing her and screwing her brains out, then she could talk all she liked.
“Asher!” Dave, one of the stock boys, flagged me down. “Uh, we seem to have run out of several TVs, a bunch of computers, and every single Rocky the Robot toy in the store.”
“Give everyone who complains a ten-dollar gift card,” I told him, and he scurried off.
My phone lit up with a dozen calls and text messages about all sorts of problems. Inventory was running out, people were angry. Customers were fighting in the aisles while their children tore apart the toy section like the savage little beasts that they were.
None of it mattered. Right now, the only thing on my mind was Sarah.
I saw her across the street in the window of her shop, helping Lana, her sole employee, hang up Christmas lights.
“You don't know it yet, but you're gonna be mine,” I said softly. “I promise you that.”
Then I turned and went back into the melee to put out a few fires.
Chapter 3 - Sarah
“Santa Claus is coming... to towwwn!”
Mom sang along – much too loudly – to the holiday music coming from the store's speakers. She stopped every few feet to fawn over some other trinket while I pushed a loaded cart behind her.
“Mom, can you tone it down a little?” I gestured to two snickering boys. “People are staring at us.”
She giggled and flipped her frizzy red hair over her shoulder. “Don't be silly, Sarah. It's called getting into the Christmas spirit.”
“I think I've had enough Christmas spirit to last me a lifetime.”
She ignored me and kept right on singing. I tried to hide behind the jumbo pack of paper towels in my cart.
I may be in my mid-twenties, yet mom had her ways of making me feel like a child again.
She'd called me up, begging that I go shopping with her. One of her favorite pastimes was setting up the house with lights, decorations, and all sorts of festive crap. Every year, she bought more of the junk although she already had an attic full.
“Ooh!” She squealed and held up a snow globe. “Isn't this just the cutest thing? Look at the little mouse building a snowman.”
“You've got a box full of those things at home, remember? Along with three hundred ornaments, ten tree toppers, and so many twinkly lights that the house is probably visible from outer space.”
“Such a pessimist,” she murmured, placing the globe in the basket. “It's no wonder you haven't found a husband yet. Who wants to listen to so much negativity?”
At the mention of marriage, Asher's plight came to mind. Three days had passed since his father's visit to Slicker Image. Three days since he hit on me relentlessly and practically invited me to sleep with him.
What a jerk he was! Didn't even have the sense to put on a clean shirt before trying to seduce me. The thought of him with another woman made me ill.
We hadn't spoken since then, and from the look of things, he wasn't even trying to find himself a wife, either. Which meant that to save the shop, I'd have to find one for him.
Mom stopped in the aisle and ran her hand over the sparkly strands of garland. “You know you're getting older,” she said, giving me “that” look of hers meant to elicit
