From Boss to Bridegroom. Karen Kirst
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James Canton. Judging by James’s disgusted expression and the way Quinn pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, he wasn’t helping much.
“Maybe you should lend him a hand.”
Nicole considered this. He’d made it clear managing a country store was well within his capabilities, hadn’t he?
When the group of elderly gentlemen in the far corner erupted into laughter, and her boss winced as if in physical pain, she gave in to the pulse of compassion. He’d obviously changed his mind about evicting the checker players. She could afford to help him out.
“I suppose you’re right. Have a good evening.”
“See you in church tomorrow morning.” She bustled toward the exit.
Quinn was glaring at the cages on the counter and the squawking chickens inside. “Need some assistance?”
Despite a long and trying first day, he looked decidedly unruffled save for the hint of uncertainty in his aristocratic features. He was good under pressure, she’d give him that.
“I would appreciate it.”
To James, she said, “Are you buying these chickens or selling?”
“Selling.” He looked relieved to be dealing with someone who knew what they were doing.
Hefting the oversize ledger onto the counter beside the cages, she flipped through the pages until she found his name. Quinn watched as she inserted the value of his chickens into the first column.
“Will you be purchasing anything today?”
“A pound of sugar is all.”
“I’ll get that for you.” To Quinn, she said, “Normally we’d put these chickens outside on the boardwalk for customers to see, but since we’re closing in thirty minutes, we’ll store them in the barn out back. Would you mind taking them out there while I finish up this transaction?”
“Not at all.” He reached for the cages. His smile had a grim turn to it. “I apologize for your wait, Mr. Canton. Please tell your boy to help himself to a bag of penny candy free of charge.”
James’s brows went up at that. At his young son’s hopeful grin, he nodded his acquiescence. “Much obliged, Mr. Darling.”
Quinn walked out, cages held away from his body as if the chickens were diseased. Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Nicole readied the sugar and waited patiently for the little boy to decide which candy he wanted. After father and son left, she assisted two other customers, then went to flip the sign over. The trio in the corner shuffled out. Quickly sliding the lock into place, she retrieved her basket from beneath the office desk and rushed to fill it. A wedge of cheese, a tin of peaches, a sack of dried pinto beans. She frowned at the nearly empty produce bins. It was too early in the year for most fruits and vegetables. A delicious-looking batch of asparagus had come in that morning but was too expensive for her budget.
The rear door opened. Nicole dashed into the office and returned her basket to its spot. Pulling the palm-size ledger from the desk drawer, she was inserting the items she’d just taken and the cost of each when her boss stepped into the doorway.
Half sitting on the desk so that his muscled thigh nearly brushed her arm, he smiled ruefully down at her. “You were amazing today, Nicole. In his letters, Emmett indicated how valuable you were to this business. Now that I’ve watched you in action, I can see he was right.”
She stared at him. His masculine appeal, his succinct accent pronouncing her name, rendered her mute. Quinn was sophistication personified, yet there was a rugged strength beneath the fine appearance and expensive clothing.
“You were efficient,” he went on. “Civil to the customers, in some cases anticipating their needs.” His lower leg swung back and forth, stirring her skirts. “That is something you won’t find in Boston’s finer establishments.”
Irritated that he affected her at all, she laid her pencil down and arched a single brow. “I’m surprised you’d find anything to impress you in our crude little backwoods store.”
His leg ceased its motion. “I’m curious. Do you find it difficult to accept compliments in general or is it me that is the problem?”
Nicole’s jaw sagged a little at his bluntness. “Do you always speak exactly what’s on your mind, Mr. Darling?”
“It’s Quinn, remember? And I asked you first.”
Replacing the ledger, she pushed to her feet. “I don’t have time for witty banter, Quinn.” She winced at the informality. “I have floors to sweep, merchandise to straighten and work awaiting me when I get home.” Once her errand had been completed, of course.
When she made to move past him, his fingers closed over her wrist. “What sort of work?”
“If you must know, I’m a seamstress. I have dress orders to fill. Trousers that need adjusting.”
A line appeared between his brows. “Go home. I will tend to the cleaning.”
Heat spread outward from his touch, delaying her response. “Y-you don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but you did the lion’s share of the work today because I hadn’t a clue what I was doing. I was sorely out of my element. Which brings me to my request.”
He was readily admitting his shortcomings? “What sort of request?”
Laughing, he said, “Do not look at me as if I am about to suggest something improper.”
Smoothing her features, Nicole extracted her arm from his hold. “What then?”
“You obviously know what you’re doing around here. I had planned to arrive in time for Emmett to show me the ropes, but since I wasn’t able to, I wonder if you would be willing to tutor me.”
The prospect of spending even a minute more than necessary in Quinn’s company did not appeal to her in the slightest. Despite the humble nature of his request, his self-important air remained intact—no doubt a result of living a privileged, entitled life typical of the wealthy. Worse than that, he seemed to gain a great deal of pleasure from provoking her. Something she could do without.
But how was she to refuse him? If he didn’t learn to run the store, hectic, chaotic days like today would become the norm.
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Wonderful. Do you have time tomorrow after church?”
Nicole thought of the sewing projects she really needed to complete. “I will give you two hours. No more.”
His blinding grin served to enhance his good looks, if that were even possible. “You are a jewel.”
* * *
Quinn couldn’t stop staring at the jarring sight of his prickly, reserved assistant cradling a slumbering infant in her arms. The church service had drawn to a close, and folks were gathering their things and making their way along the aisles to the exit, stopping to exchange pleasantries here and there. Nicole was standing against the right wall near the piano. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass window behind her, bathing her in an ethereal glow. That wasn’t what had arrested his attention, however. It was the way she was looking at that baby.
Gone was the cool detachment, the wariness that typically marked her delicate features, and in its place was a vulnerability, a tenderness that made Quinn feel as if he were intruding on a private moment. He’d only just met her, but he knew instinctively she would not be pleased to know her inner emotions were on display.
A heavy hand clapped onto his shoulder, and he turned to see Shane Timmons. He looked slightly less dangerous this morning, blond hair brushed off his forehead and hard cheeks free of scruff.
“Afternoon, Sheriff.”
Memories of their last interaction pushed to the forefront of his mind. He imagined