Page 22 of Wolf's Chance

Caleb returned to his study of the wolf scene. A simple painting of woods and a clearing with a black wolf emerging from the shadows. “As I said, no customer service skills.”

“AsIsaid, you’re not a customer.”

“How much is the picture?”

He was looking at me expectantly, and I didn’t have the words to tell him he was making my head hurt. The man fluctuated between hot and cold more times than I could count.

“Willow? The price?”

God, he was an impatient prick. “Two fifty.”

It wasn’t. It was a simple painting that I had done one morning. To anyone else, I’d feel guilty for asking for a hundred. Him, well, he could pay it or leave it.

“I’ll take it.”

All right…it seemed like he was taking it. Shit. I wasn’t expecting that. “Um…you sure?”

Those dark eyes were on me again. Inscrutable. Secret. Penetrating.

Caleb walked towards me, his hand pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. “It’s not my place to say it—it’s your business—but really, you need sales help, because you’re bad at it.” He put three bills on the counter. “When can I get it?”

“Sales help?” My eyes were glued to the bills. He just dropped two fifty in front of me like it was nothing. I’d spent the week thinking he was homeless; now he was Mr. Let’s-Drop-Cash-Like-It’s-Hot?

“Good God, you’re worse than I thought.” Caleb’s scornfulmuttering brought me out of my fog. “No wonder nothing sells.”

“Hey!” He’d been gazing back at the painting, but he turned to face me when he heard my protest. He said nothing, but I could feel his mockery. “Quit it.” Grouchily, I went over to the painting, and careful of the hooks, I lifted it off the wall. I forgot the frame I’d put it in was heavy, and given my current weariness, I almost dropped it. Caleb was there to catch it. “Um…thanks.”

“Do I still need to pay for it if you break it?”

“It’s yours now,” I told him, following behind him as he took it to the counter. “It breaks in my store, tough.”

“Wow. Stellar sales skills, yet again.”

“Maybe I just don’t like you, Caleb.”

“Maybe you’re full of shit, Willow.” He smirked. “I think you like me just fine.”

The painting lay between us as I glared at him, and then, remembering Iwasa professional, I opened the cupboard under the counter and pulled out the brown paper wrapping. “I’ll just get this wrapped.”

He said nothing as he watched me first wrap the framed painting in bubble wrap, tape it half to death, and then wrap it carefully in brown paper. I was rummaging in the cupboard for a postage label when he spoke, breaking the silence. I was so absorbed that I almost forgot he was there, and I jumped, accidentally banging my head on the cupboard’s roof.

“Whatever else you need to do to that, it’s fine. I can take it from here.” Straightening, I rubbed the top of my head, and Caleb didn’t hide his amusement. “Thought I heard an echo.”

“Shut up.” Slapping the label down, I snapped at him. “Postage label, so you can ship it home.” Pointing out the window, I gave him directions. “Postal place two blocks over. You can’t miss it. It’s right beside the printer shop.”

Picking up my painting—no,hispainting—he handed me back the label. “I don’t need this.”

It hung between us like a tentative peace treaty. One that neither party fully trusted.

“You have your own shipping labels?” I didn’t hide the doubt in my voice.

“Does it matter?” He placed it back on the counter. “You should rest, you look tired.” He said it so matter-of-factly it couldn’t even be described as concern. “You’ve made a sale, close up shop. Go home.”

He was halfway to the door when I spoke again. “That’s what this was? It’s apitysale?”

He didn’t even look back. “It’s asale, Willow. That’s all that matters.” Opening the door, he turned to glance at me before he left. “Hire a salesperson. You need one.”

The door was barely closed behind him when I heard a familiar laugh, and seconds later, Lily came bounding in. “Oh my gosh! Did Loverboybuysomething?”

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