“Blake,” his grandma called from the back porch as he pruned the hedge along the back of her house.
“Yes,” he paused to look at her. “Everything okay?”
“Oh, yes. Fine. I was hoping you might take me into town later. I want to stop by Gladys’s to bring her the casserole, and then the fabric store.”
“Sure. Give me another hour to finish out here, then I’ll get cleaned up.”
“Thanks, dear,” she turned and walked back inside.
Blake smiled. He felt so utterly domesticated. After breakfast, he helped his grandma grate cheese and chop onions for a casserole she was making for a friend. He actually quite enjoyed himself. Being in Fort Collins was certainly a change from Chicago.
In Chicago, his meals were usually at a restaurant or take-out. Hard work didn’t involve sweat; it involved a computer. Fluorescent lighting replaced sunlight.
There was something rewarding about getting dirty and sweaty occasionally.
He moved around to the side of the house with the clippers. These really need to be sharpened, he thought. He should bring them along to town and look into having them sharpened.
A few hours later, Blake pulled up to the antiques store where Gladys worked part-time. He carried the casserole and followed his grandma into the store.
“Hi, Gladys.”
“Hey, Rosie. Thanks for stopping by. Well, hello, Blake. Rosie, your grandson looks so handsome,” she said beaming.
“Hi, Mrs. Bell.”
“Set it here please, Blake. I’ll put it in the back refrigerator in a minute.” She motioned to the counter.
“How’s Suzette feeling?”
“Okay,” she said tipping her head from right to left. “Ready to pop. Doctor says he can induce her day after tomorrow,” Gladys said with a smile.
Grandma turned to look up at Blake. “Gladys is going to be a great-grandma,” she grinned.
Oh, brother. Blake sensed the insinuation hidden in that statement. He tuned out the rest of the ladies’ conversation and let his mind and eyesight wander the store. A red metal tricycle grabbed his attention. The vision of riding one very similar to that as a kid popped into his head. He smiled remembering his dad jogging alongside as they raced. His dad always let him win.
He made a mental note to call his dad later that night.
After a few minutes, Grandma looped her arm through his.
“Okay, Gladys. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Bye, Rosie. Bye, Blake.”
Blake smiled and waved to Mrs. Bell. Sweet lady. His grandma had some really good friends.
Outside, Grandma pointed in the direction of the fabric store.
“It’s only about two blocks up, Blake. I need to find some ribbon for the invitations for Geoff and Patty’s anniversary party.”
As they walked, he asked, “You’re making the invitations? Why don’t you order them, Grandma?”
She glanced up at him. “Blake, sometimes handmade things look better and mean more than store-bought,” she said with all sincerity.
Blake never considered that.
They strolled through the front door, and in an instant, he saw Charlie talking with a woman, perhaps the manager, at the front counter. Charlie glanced up at him and gave him a quick, closed-mouth smile before returning her attention to the manager.
“Go say hello,” his grandma commanded. “I’ll be in the back picking out my ribbon,” she said and strolled away.
He watched Charlie for a moment. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail like the previous night, when he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
He meandered to the counter. “Hello, ladies.”
“Hello, Blake.”
He noticed the sketchpad before them and the pencil Charlie held in her hand. “What are you working on?”
“Charlie’s helping me with some holiday promotions.”
From Blake’s perspective, it looked like she was going to generate coupons for Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.
“Will these be printed or electronic?” he asked.
Charlie glanced up at him. “Jamie would like to do both. She has a growing list of emails in addition to traditional addresses. Jamie, this is Blake, an old friend from college. Blake, this is Jamie, the store’s owner.”
A lighting strike of energy shot straight up his spine. For some reason hearing her refer to him as a friend struck a nerve.
“Looks good,” he managed to get out and offered his hand to Jamie.
“Nice to meet you, Blake. We were just discussing having the coupon be dollars-off or a percentage-off. What do you think?”
He had a definite opinion, but this was Charlie’s project. He smiled and shook his head. “I don’t know. What do you think, Charlie?”
“It’s alright. It’s just an opinion,” she urged him.
He blinked. “Well, I think I like the percentage option because shoppers are apt to buy more if they can still save. The dollar-off may inadvertently limit their purchases.”
“True, unless we create a sliding scale where the more you buy, the more you save.”
Now that’s using your head. “I like that idea. And of course, you could change up the promotion for each holiday.”
Jamie’s eyes went wide, and she smiled. “That sounds like fun.”
The store’s phone rang, and Jamie excused herself to answer it. “I’ll be right back.”
“She liked your idea, Blake,” Charlie said with a smile.
“She thought it was fun.” He leaned close and spoke softly in her ear. Her clean, sweet citrusy smell filled his senses. “I can think of many more things that are fun besides coupons for a fabric store,” he wiggled his brows and smiled at her before he went off to find his grandmother.
He couldn’t say exactly what had gotten into him. Maybe it was seeing her the night before, but playing with Charlie felt natural . . . exciting. The way her eyes twinkled at him, she liked it too. These next few weeks might not be as bad as he had originally expected.
Blake was flirting with her. Wasn’t he full of surprises? The way he’d leaned in close, his warm breath dancing across her skin, sent a rush of sensation to the apex of her thighs. God, how does he do that?
Jamie returned and reviewed a few more details so Charlie could come up with a draft on her PC. She was about to leave, running out of reasons to stall, when Blake and his grandmother strode toward the check-out counter.
“Hello, Mrs. Strickland.”
“Hello, Charlotte dear. How are you? How is your mother?”
“Good. We’re both good. How are you doing?”
“Oh, wonderful. I’m sorry I missed you the other night. I appreciate you making a special trip to the house.”
“Anytime. Are you better?”
“Yes, thank you, dear. Perhaps you can come over for dinner sometime soon,” she suggested.
She considered the offer. Since Blake seemed to be on his best behavior now, she could probably accept the invitation. “That would be terrific. Thanks.”
“Does Blake have your number?”
Her number hadn’t changed since college, but the likelihood that he’d deleted it from his phone was incredibly high. “Um, I don’t think so.” She grabbed a pen and reached for his hand. Opening his warm hand, she wrote her cell number on his palm. “There,” she smiled. “Call anytime with an invitation.”
Blake’s lips quirked at her words and his eyes danced with amusement.
“Perfect. We’ll talk to you later, dear.” Rosie made a few steps to the clerk and set her handbag on the counter.
“Have a good day, Charlie,” Blake said as he followed Rosie.
The day was good, and it kept getting better. “You too.”