“One o’clock,” she heard herself say.
Shane extended his hand and she shook it, ignoring how seamlessly her palm fit against his and the warmth radiating up her arm even after he’d pulled away. He excused himself and made his way to the door. Crickitt watched his every long-legged step, musing how he was taller than Ronald and walked with infinitely more confidence.
A tall, confident man had approached her. And, okay, it may have been because she looked needy, but she couldn’t keep from being flattered that Shane had taken it upon himself to talk to her.
Lifting the business card between her thumb and fingers, she studied the front. The top read “August Industries, Leader in Business Strategies.” No name on the card, just an address and a phone number. She flipped it over. Blank.
Sadie returned as Crickitt hopped off her bar stool.
“Where’re you going?” Sadie asked with a breathless smile. Shane’s cousin stood at Sadie’s side, a matching grin on his tanned face. Crickitt regarded his surfer-dude style skeptically. Cute. A departure from Sadie’s usual type, but cute.
Of course, there was a good chance Sadie would never see Aiden again given her first-date-only rule. Crickitt looked down at the business card again, chewing her lip. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to see Shane again, either. She already felt as if she’d revealed too much about herself in their short conversation. Wasn’t it too soon for her to trust a man after the one she’d trusted implicitly had left her behind?
“What’s with the card? Did you get a date?” Sadie asked.
“No.” She laughed, her temporarily reclaimed confidence ebbing. She considered crumbling the card in her hand, dropping it onto the bar. The message would get back to Shane via his cousin, she was sure. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about standing him up or canceling the interview.
Chicken.
Despite the very tempting option to stay in her comfort zone, Crickitt decided maybe it was time to take a risk. Even a small one.
“Better,” she told Sadie, snapping up her purse. “A job.”
Chapter 2
Shane slowed his steps from run to walk before killing the power on his treadmill. He swiped a towel over his sweat-covered face and neck, his thoughts swimming in Gulf-Stream blue eyes, full lips, and a sea of soft curls. Since he’d returned home, he hadn’t been able to think of anything other than the chance meeting with Crickitt tonight.
He faced the floor-to-ceiling mirrors while catching his breath and almost didn’t recognize the guy smiling back at him. When was the last time he’d caught himself grinning about anything? He sank onto the weight bench and started unlacing his shoes, wondering at his newfound exhilaration. True, he’d been searching for an assistant, and had subsequently been drowning in paperwork, for the last month. Finding Myrna’s replacement would take a load off of his mind as well as his sagging in-box.
Then he thought of Crickitt’s startled expression from earlier and felt the smile spread across his face again. Watching her go from crying to confident had been the best reward of all.
The moment reminded him of the time he’d helped a struggling bookstore owner stay in business. She’d been overwhelmed with marketing, accounting, employee issues. He’d slid the pieces into place that allowed her to focus on her love, rare first editions, while the rest of her business hummed along silently in the background. It’s what he did best, and what clients paid him to do most.
Being able to share in that kind of success was the very reason he’d started August Industries and kept it going for the last decade. Feeling a similar emotion in reaction to a woman was…unnerving. He hadn’t made it this far by allowing himself to be distracted by a pretty face. And she had distracted him.
He hoped it wasn’t a mistake to offer her an interview.
Shane stood up and headed for the shower, grateful tomorrow was Sunday. Maybe he’d reward himself by sleeping in for a change. He flipped on the bathroom light, stopping short of going in when he caught sight of his mother’s picture hanging in the hallway. A sad smile touched his lips, and he forced himself to look, really look, at the image now nearly twenty years old.
She smiled back at him, her gold-brown eyes open and inviting. In the photo she’d been the age Shane was now. She’d die later that year, just shy of his fourteenth birthday. The faded image showed her pressing a piecrust into a pan, her red and white apron covered in flour. Seeing it made him wish his father hadn’t thrown away everything of hers after she’d passed away.
That sobering thought swept away whatever was left of his buoyant mood. His legs felt suddenly tired, his heart heavy as he spun the knobs on the large stone-walled shower.