The Bachelor Takes a Bride (Those Engaging Garretts!) (8 page)

“Maybe you could turn your house into a yoga studio—then you might actually put some effort into making it livable.”

“Has Lauryn been complaining to you about the house again?”

“No, Rob. Lauryn doesn’t complain. Ever. But I’ve been to the house... Don’t you want something better for your wife and child?”

“I’m doing the best that I can.”

“I’d suggest you figure out a way to make your best better.”

“Did you come in here to buy something or just to bust my balls?”

“I came in to see if you knew what day it is today.”

“Sunday.”

She waited for him to expand on his answer, but he didn’t seem to have anything to add.

“Any particular Sunday?” she prompted.

He glanced at the calendar pinned up on the wall behind his desk, then closed his eyes and swore under his breath.

She shook her head. “You really did forget.”

“Okay—yeah, I forgot,” he admitted. “I’ve been a little preoccupied lately trying to figure out how to keep the store going when all my potential customers are shopping at that damn superstore in Raleigh.”

“Well, I’m here so that you can forget about the store for a few hours and celebrate your anniversary with your wife.”

“Lauryn understands that I have to be here.”

“Except that now you don’t,” she told him. “Now you can go to Buds & Blooms, pick up some flowers and take them home to your wife.”

“Are you sure you can handle things here?”

“If I get stuck, Roxi can help me out.”

“Okay,” he finally relented. “Thanks.”

The words were right but the sentiment was spoiled by the fact that he sounded more annoyed than appreciative.

“One more thing,” Jordyn said as he made his way to the door.

“What’s that?”

“Put your wedding ring back on your left hand before you go home.”

* * *

Marco genuinely loved spending time with his nieces and nephews. He wasn’t nearly as fond of shopping.

But when he stopped by his sister’s house to pick up Anna and Bella for lunch at Nonna’s—a weekly tradition that Renata had excused herself from because of a headache, which everyone in the family knew was code for her husband being home after finishing a four-day shift at the fire hall—she somehow convinced him to take Anna for new soccer shoes after lunch.

His eldest niece had a practice the following night and apparently her feet had grown since the start of the season so that she could barely squeeze them into her shoes. She hadn’t told her mother when the shoes started to feel small because she loved the bright pink color and didn’t want a new pair. Now, however, they pinched her toes so badly that she couldn’t wear them without crying.

He’d been to the Locker Room a few times, but not at all in the last year. Generally he found the selection to be limited and the prices high. But his sister, a firm believer in supporting local businesses, had bought the now-too-small soccer cleats there, so he figured it was worth checking to see if they had the same shoes in a bigger size. Fingers crossed, it would be their first and last stop.

The bell over the door jingled when he pushed it open and the woman behind the counter glanced over.

Jordyn seemed as surprised to see him walk through the door as he was to find her there. Then her gaze shifted from him to the little girls by his side, and her eyes grew even wider.

“My nieces,” he said quickly, before she could consider any other possibility. “This is Adrianna—” he put a hand on her shoulder, then her sister’s “—and Isabella. Also known as Anna and Bella.” Then to the girls, he said, “This is Miss Garrett.”

“Jordyn,” she said, smiling at them. “It’s nice to meet both of you.”

“How long have you worked here?” Marco asked her.

“I don’t. It’s my brother-in-law’s store—I’m just helping out for a few hours today because it’s his anniversary.”

“Then you have to realize that our paths crossing here is a complete coincidence and I’m not stalking you?”

She laughed. “Yeah. I had a moment—when I first saw you—but then I realized you couldn’t possibly have known I was going to be here today because, up until a few hours ago, I didn’t even know I was going to be here.” She came out from behind the counter. “Is there something I can help you find?”

“I hope so,” he said.

“I need new shoes for soccer,” Anna piped up.

“I’m not sure what we’ve got,” Jordyn admitted. “But I know footwear is at the back.”

“I want pink ones.”

Jordyn held out her hand. “Let’s take a look.”

Chapter Eight

“T
he shoes she has now are a ten and a half,” Marco said. “Renata figured she needs at least an eleven but maybe even a twelve.”

“There should be one of those foot-measuring things around here,” Jordyn said, looking on the shelves and between the boxes, but to no avail.

“Or we could just check the inventory and see if you’ve got anything that might work,” Marco suggested, when she came up empty-handed.

“Or we could do that,” she agreed.

“What about this one?” Marco picked up a display shoe to show it to his niece. It was black with silver flower decorations on the heel.

Anna immediately wrinkled her nose. “They’re not pink.”

“But they have pink laces,” he pointed out.

She folded her arms over her chest and shook her head.

Jordyn skimmed the boxes on the shelf. “We don’t have her size in that one, anyway.”

“What other colors do you like?” she asked Anna.

The little girl pursed her lips, considering. “Yellow and orange.”

“Okay—” she pulled a display shoe down for Anna to examine “—what do you think of this one?”

The shoe was bright yellow at the toe, the color fading toward the middle, shifting to a light orange that was neon at the heel. He had never seen a shoe so bright—or so ugly. But Marco bit his tongue as his niece turned the shoe around in her hands, checking it out from all sides and angles, even peering inside.

“I’ll try them on,” she finally said.

Jordyn pulled the size-twelve box off the shelf while Marco settled Anna on the padded bench seat and helped her remove her own shoes.

Her foot slid easily into the soccer cleat, with a little bit of room at the toe when it was laced up. Anna took a few tentative steps, testing the feel. Then she walked to the mirror to see how they looked.

Jordyn suggested she try running up the aisle to be sure, but she cautioned her to stay on the carpet so the cleats didn’t slip on the floor. Of course Bella wanted to run, too, and the girls raced up and down between the rows for several minutes.

“Those are some really ugly shoes,” Marco noted.

“That might be why Rob still has them in stock,” she acknowledged. “But at least Anna seems to like them.”

He surveyed the assortment of shoes, noted the empty display shelves, the meager inventory. Walking through the store, he’d noticed the same issue with other areas: empty shelves and hangers and bins.

“How long has your brother-in-law owned this place?” he asked Jordyn.

“As long as he and Lauryn have been married, so five years.”

“Your family has a phenomenally successful retail business,” he noted. “You’d think someone could help him figure out why this place is struggling and how to fix it.”

“He’s had offers,” Jordyn told him. “Truthfully, I’m not sure he wants to fix it. He likes to blame the sporting-goods superstore in Raleigh for his lack of customers, but I’ve always suspected it has more to do with his complete lack of business acumen combined with an unwillingness to actually work hard.”

“I’m getting the impression you’re not a big fan of your sister’s husband.”

She shrugged. “I don’t need to be a fan—I’m not married to him.”

But the casual response was belied by the shadows in her eyes that made him suspect there was something she wasn’t telling him. Not that she should confide in him, but he found himself wishing he could...if not alleviate, at least take her mind off, her concerns.

Before he could say anything else, though, Anna and Bella were back.

“I like these ones,” Anna announced. “Can we get them, Uncle Marco? Please?”

He could never refuse her anything, especially when she looked at him with those big brown eyes pleading. And if he bought the shoes, his shopping was done. “Yes, we can get them.”

“Thank you.” She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight.

“Me, too,” Bella demanded.

He put his arm around her and hugged her, too.

“No.” She stamped her foot. “Me want soes, too.”

“But you don’t play soccer,” he reminded her, as he helped Anna onto the bench to change back into her regular shoes.

Bella ran off again and returned with a pair of sandals with a fat orange flower on the front. “Dese,” she said.

She usually loved pink as much as her sister, but he suspected that she’d been drawn to the orange sandals because they were the same color as Anna’s new shoes.

“Okay, let’s see if we can find a pair that fit.”

Luckily they did, and both girls were smiling as they carried their purchases to the cash register.

“Two pairs of shoes sold in my first hour on the job,” Jordyn mused. “I think I should ask for a raise.”

“I don’t doubt there would be a lot more customers in the store if you were here every day,” Marco told her.

“I prefer my real job. Besides, Rob already has a new employee.” She put each pair of shoes in its own bag so that Anna and Bella could each carry one. “A yoga instructor.”

He took out his credit card to pay for his purchase. “You don’t like yoga?”

She lifted a shoulder. “It’s not my thing. And it’s not Roxi’s fault that she’s gorgeous and about twenty years old.”

Before he could respond to that, he heard a voice call out.

“Marco Palermo?”

He turned around in time to see a slender ponytailed blonde in stretchy capri pants and a sports bra beelining toward him.

* * *

“Apparently you’re acquainted with my brother-in-law’s new employee,” Jordyn remarked to Marco after Roxi had gone upstairs to teach a class. “Ex-girlfriend?”

“No,” he said quickly, firmly, adding a shake of his head for emphasis. “Just someone I knew, vaguely, in high school.”

She seemed to absorb that for a minute. “Roxi went to high school with you? She barely looks twenty-one.”

“I’d guess she’s twenty-three or twenty-four,” he said. “Because she was a couple of years behind me.”

“So you’re...twenty-six?”

“Almost.”

She frowned.

“Is my age a problem?”

“Not at all,” she said. “Why would it be?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, though he was starting to have his suspicions. “How old are you?”

“Older than you.”

He nodded, finally understanding the reason for her tone. “You’re not comfortable with the idea of dating a younger man.”

“Which isn’t an issue, because we’re not dating,” she pointed out.

He glanced over at Anna and Bella, to ensure they were still occupied with the basketballs they were attempting to dribble. “Okay, you’re not comfortable with the idea of kissing a younger man.”

Jordyn’s cheeks flushed. “It was one kiss.”

“A first kiss,” he clarified.

“First
and
last,” she insisted.

He just smiled. “So how old are you?”

“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to ask a woman that question?”

“And I wouldn’t have except that it seems to be a matter of some concern to you.”

“I turned thirty in April,” she admitted.

“Oh, wow, you are old,” he teased.

She glared at him.

“And unmarried? Does that make you a spinster?”

“It might—if that term weren’t even more archaic than me.”

He chuckled. “We’ll have to continue this conversation at a later date—when I don’t have two little girls tugging on me.”

“You’ll find me at the nursing home.”

“I’ll find you,” he said, holding her gaze for a long moment. “You can count on that.”

* * *

It bothered her that she did count on it.

She’d become accustomed to seeing Marco show up at O’Reilly’s at least a couple of times a week. He wasn’t always there on the same day or at the same time, but it was rare for three days to pass without him making an appearance.

So when she left for home after work Thursday night, Jordyn was suddenly aware that she hadn’t seen him since Sunday afternoon—and annoyed with herself for being aware of that fact. And even more annoyed to realize that she missed him.

She dreamed of him that night, as she’d dreamed of him every night since that single kiss they’d shared. And every morning, she woke up aching for something she wasn’t sure she wanted and knew she couldn’t have.

Tristyn was humming along with the radio when Jordyn shuffled into the kitchen in search of a much-needed cup of coffee the following morning.

“Didn’t you close last night? Why are you up already?”

Jordyn shrugged as she stirred sugar into her cup. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Something on your mind?”

Jordyn lifted her cup to her lips, drank deeply. “Nope.”

“Marco show up at O’Reilly’s last night?”

“Nope.”

“Ahh.” Tristyn set her empty mug in the dishwasher and picked up her bag. “That would explain it.”

She scowled. “Explain what?”

“Your mood this morning.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my mood,” Jordyn snapped.

Her sister just raised a brow.

Jordyn swallowed another mouthful of coffee.

“You know—you could go see him.”

“Who?”

Tristyn snorted.

“If you’re not interested, tell him you’re not interested—don’t string him along.”

“I’m not stringing anyone along,” she denied. “And I have told him I’m not interested.”

“And then you kissed him,” Tristyn reminded her.

“
He
kissed
me
.”

“Because the man is seriously smitten with you,” her sister warned.

“He is not.”

If he was smitten with her, he wouldn’t have stayed away from O’Reilly’s for five nights. Not that she was counting. And certainly not that she would ever admit to her sister.

“He is,” Tristyn insisted. “And if you’re not careful, you’re going to break his heart.”

“He asked me out, I said no, and I haven’t seen him in five days—I don’t think his heart was broken.”

“He hasn’t given up.” Tristyn paused on her way to the door. “Five days?”

Jordyn clenched her jaw shut. Obviously she’d already said too much.

“Maybe he’s not the only one who’s smitten,” her sister mused.

Before Jordyn could formulate a reply, the door closed behind Tristyn’s back.

* * *

He came into the bar that night—just when Jordyn had convinced herself that he wasn’t going to show up. And when she looked up and saw him, her heart started to race.

Maybe he’s not the only one who’s smitten.

She shook her head, refusing to consider the possibility. She didn’t get smitten. In the more than three years that had passed since the death of her fiancé, she hadn’t even had a second date. More importantly, she hadn’t been on a single date with Marco. How could she possibly be smitten with a guy she hadn’t gone out with even once?

The simple and obvious answer was that she wasn’t. Okay, yes, she was attracted to him. The way her heart was bouncing around inside her chest made it impossible to deny that fact, but her head—the protector of her heart—refused to let that attraction lead to anything else.

His usual seat at the bar was vacant, but before he made his way to it, he stopped to exchange a few words with some of the regular customers. He asked Ed about his job, then chuckled over something Bobby said. He was good with people—all kinds of people. She might have nicknamed him “Charm Boy” because of his flirtatious manner, but the truth was, he made friends with everyone. Even Carl, who preferred hanging out at the bar to being home with his wife and didn’t make conversation with anyone, had exchanged half a dozen words with Marco the previous weekend.

She knew he worked a lot of hours at Valentino’s—not just behind the bar but wherever he was needed. And yet somehow he’d found the time to stop by O’Reilly’s to see her. And why would he do that unless he was, as Tristyn suggested, smitten with her?

And while she was flattered—because what woman wouldn’t be flattered to have a man like Marco interested in her?—she knew that she couldn’t continue to encourage his flirtations. Her sister was right: she owed it to Marco to be honest about what she wanted—or didn’t want.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” she said, when he settled himself at the bar.

He winked at her. “Did you miss me?”

She had. She wasn’t willing to admit it, but it was true. “Carl did,” she told him. “He could barely pick his chin up off of the bar to drink his beer Wednesday night.”

“I wanted to be here, but I had business to take care of.”

“You don’t owe me any explanations.”

“But you owe me a number—six of seven.”

She busied herself cutting a lime into wedges. “I thought you’d given up on that.”

“It hasn’t been that long since I’ve been in here,” he said. “And I don’t give up that easily.”

“I’m afraid our little game may have given you the wrong impression.”

“What impression is that?”

“That if you managed to put the numbers together in the right order and called to ask me out, I might say yes.”

“And you wouldn’t?”

She shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“That’s too bad,” he said.

She frowned as she tipped another glass beneath the tap and poured a Kilkenny for Ed.

“‘That’s too bad’?” she echoed. “That’s all you have to say.”

He shrugged. “I’m not really surprised. I kind of figured that kiss would have you running scared.”

“I’m not running scared,” she told him. “I just don’t want to get involved.”

He held her gaze for a long minute before he nodded. “Your call.”

“Thank you.”

He lifted his head up to sniff the air as Melody walked by with a bowl of Guinness stew. “Mmm...I’m starving and that smells really good.”

“You didn’t eat at Valentino’s?”

“Not tonight.” He sipped his beer. “Can I get some of that?”

“Sure.” She put the order through to the kitchen, then moved down the bar to serve other customers.

When his dinner came, he continued to sit at the bar, eating his stew and drinking his beer and chatting with Bobby. When he was finished, he paid his bill, wished her good-night and walked out.

The next night, he came back again, taking a seat at the bar and chatting and flirting with her as if nothing had changed. He returned two days later, and again, three days after that.