Page 34 of Deceiving Grier

Harry’s store was packed tight withstuffthat cluttered every bare surface. Plastic beach toys fought for space with cactus-shaped margarita glasses and multi-colored fish-shaped dishes. A row of ponchos hung from a rack along the back wall, and painted bits of furniture crowded the aisles. Even the counter where the register sat had a tray of mood rings.

What am I doing here?I thought, making my way around the cluttered space. But I knew the answer. I was already trying to imagine what the space would look like without all the clutter, what kind of store I would run if the place was mine—if mylifewas mine.

Maybe I’d leave it as his. After all, Harry had managed just fine over the past thirty years. But there were at least two other shops in The Square selling beach-cottage-chic-themed home apparel.

If someone were going to make a go of a store here, they’d need to carry something niche, something that would appeal to the tourists in the summer, but something that they could sell online so he wouldn’t have to rely on the reduced population in The Square alone in the off-season. I would need to research—No, I wouldn’t. I didn’t need to research anything. I knew exactly what I would do when school finished, and it wasn’t running a retail shop in Oceanwind Square.

Still, it was a decent space, bigger than it looked with all the stuff crowding the shelves, and painted a light color with brighter lightening would give the impression it was bigger still. Wide arched windows offered a view of the street outside, and positioned in the middle of the strip, it was a perfect location. Hell, I’d have bet money that the apartment upstairs had a view of the ocean. So close to the water, Harry and Michael could probably hear the waves if they opened their windows.

Shuffling footsteps drew me out of my thoughts as Harry pushed back a heavy burgundy drape between the shop and his back room.

“Can I help you find anything?” he asked. Harry was a tall man, well over six feet, with a mop of wild tangled curls the color of steel wool. His brows were thick and bushy, a shade darker than his hair, and when combined with his slightly hooked nose, he always looked as though he was scowling. Overall, the man looked intimidating as hell.

“No thanks, just looking,” I said, turning to the shelf nearest me and taking a swig of my coffee that had already turned cold.

The man nodded and settled himself on a stool behind an ancient cash register. “You work at the cafe with Bailey and Lana.”

“That’s right.”

“I just saw Bailey at the bank.”

“I heard. Are you really closing this place?”

“I am,” he said, looking around the mish-mashed collection of inventory with affection. “It’ll be hard to leave. The Square has been good to us, but the shop has tied us down too. Michael and I want to see a little more of the world before we’re too old.” He returned his attention to me, gaze narrowing shrewdly. “You thinking of taking over the place?”

Was I? Of course not. Even if I didn’t have to go back to Wisconsin at the end of the school year, I didn’t have the money to rent a prime property in The Square. Never mind the funds I’d need to open a retail business.

“No, I couldn’t.” My insides shriveled a little hearing the words out loud.

Harry folded his arms over his chest and cocked his head to one side. “If I knew that someone from The square was going to be trying to make a go of it here, there are things I’d be willing to negotiate on—if the price was an issue.”

Again, that prickle crept up my neck, a mix of anticipation and terror, as if I were standing at the edge of a cliff, the world, an endless buffet of possibilities, spread out before me. I just needed to take a step forward, let myself fall and know that I’d land safely.

Instead, I stepped back.

“I couldn’t. I have to leave, go back home when I finish school. I just stopped in to buy…” I turned to the nearest shelf and grabbed the first thing my hand fell on, “this.”

I held out a set of bamboo wind chimes, the long, hollowed tubes clanked together like old bones, and my face warmed. What the hell was I going to do with bamboo wind chimes? But I’d had to say something. I didn’t want to leave empty-handed, so Harry would think I’d only come in to pry into the man’s life.

Harry smirked. “Sure.”

I sighed inwardly, realizing I hadn’t fooled anyone. Harry knew exactly why I’d come into the store—to poke my nose into his life and find out his plans for the shop. And now I had bamboo wind chimes I didn’t need.

Smooth, Miller.

I paid Harry for the wind chimes and hurried back to the cafe. For the rest of my shift, no matter how many times I told myself to stop wasting my time, I kept thinking about the kind of store I would open if I could.

The rain had let up to a light drizzle by the time I got home from work. Tiny water droplets clung to my jacket and hair as I hurried from my car in the driveway to the safety of the covered porch. Those damn wind chimes clanked together as I moved.

Someone had mounted hooks intermittently in the ceiling of the porch, likely for hanging flower baskets, but they seemed as good an option as anywhere to hang the wind chimes. What else would I do with them?

I slipped the metal ring over the hook farthest from the front door, then stepped back to admire my purchase. A faint breeze swayed the tubes, and they rattled softly, the sound eerie in the foggy blue-dark of twilight. Maybe I should have tossed them or given them away. After all, I couldn't take them back to Wisconsin with me. They’d only be a constant reminder of something else I wanted but couldn’t have.

Because after mulling over all the things I could do with Harry’s retail space for the rest of the afternoon, I knew one thing with absolute certainty. I wanted it. More than anything, I wanted to stay, have a shop like that in The Square, live in the apartment above, and fall asleep at night with my window open, listening to the distant sound of the surf rolling onto the beach.

But none of those things were an option. I had responsibilities, people who were counting on me. I needed to grow up and stop fantasizing about things that would never happen.

I sighed and turned away from the chimes. Inside, the sound of Sawyer’s fingers clacking away on his keyboard filled the otherwise quiet house. He must have been in his study. I smirked to myself. He hadn’t been living with us for two full months yet, and I’d already thought of the space as his.

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