Page 9 of Snowflakes and Sparks

I hopped into an ice-cold shower, hoping that would make the fog in my head go away.

Chapter Four

Two days later, the store was up and running again, and I had been careful not to “ruffle any feathers”. Not that I had the faintest clue of what that meant to the people of this town. But since no one had gotten mad at me since Diane pricked her bony finger in my chest, I was pretty sure I was doing okay.

I’d spent the previous days setting up the window display of the store and scrubbing every inch of the house. After that cleaning stint, the house looked nothing like the disaster it was when I arrived here. I could breathe freely again and was able to shower without cringing. I’d also found a fake Christmas tree and a box of traditional red baubles stowed away in the attic. The tree was now lighting up the store in all of its vintage glory.

Despite all of this, I still felt close to a cardiac arrest. Not because of work. There was an enjoyable rhythm of busy moments and quiet patches. The store was definitely not the problem. It was that damn Alex Denverton who sent my blood pressure to inconceivable heights.

Before I came to Old Pine Cove, I’d had lots of fantasies about what kind of job he’d have. A snowboard instructor maybe. A doctor. A carpenter perhaps. Heck, he could’ve been a hacker for all I knew. But nothing like this. Alex had turned out to be a prostitute. Or a pimp. Those were wild speculations of course, but I couldn’t come up with any other logical explanation for the scene I’d witnessed all day. That was why I’d decided it was the most likely explanation, until proven otherwise.

I’d been behind the counter of Got It Covered for hours, watching women enter his house then leave forty-five minutes later, like clockwork, looking all blissed out and sweaty. He didn’t even discriminate. Young, old and everything in between – they all went in and did their thing, whatevertheir thingwas.

I was wondering whether or not Alex’s nerdy streak was just a decoy for his questionable profession when another one of his clients walked down the steps of his house and made her way to the bookstore with a spring in her step.

Ugh.

I started tapping away on my computer and clicking my mouse like a maniac to pretend I was working instead of spying on my neighbor’s clients. When I almost accidently posted the gibberish my random keystrokes had produced on social media, I closed my browser and turned my attention to the girl who was walking toward the magazine section of the store.

“Welcome to Got It Covered,” I said. “If you need any help, let me know.”

She picked up a gossip magazine and put it on the counter, throwing me a smile. “I’m okay, thanks. I need some reading material that doesn’t require me to think after what I just experienced.”

“Oh, okay,” I mumbled and scanned the magazine.

“Do you happen to have any granola bars? I’m still a bit weak in the knees from my session with Alex.”

“I’m sorry, we don’t sell granola bars,” I said, ignoring her comment about her weak knees.

“Have you had the pleasure of working with Alex next door yet? He really knows his way around the body,” she said while counting her money before handing it over to me.

“No, I can’t say that I have.” I shook my head and felt the heat spread through my cheeks.

“You should definitely book a session with him. In fact, I’ve been recommending him to all of my friends.”

“You have?” I arched one of my eyebrows.

“I couldn’t possibly keep him all to myself,” she said, laughing. “Although, you should know that working with him is so intense you won’t be able to walk for days. At least in the beginning. You’ll get used to it though.”

My mouth fell open and a primal-sounding gasp escaped.

The girl giggled. “Don’t worry, he’s not one of those hardcore guys. He’s gentle. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that he’s such a hottie,” she added with a wink.

I had to use every facial muscle I had to stop my mouth from falling further to the ground. What on earth was happening behind those walls? I thought of Alex opening the door on my first day in this town. Him in his sweatpants, his bare feet, and that smile wanting to break free. Had he been in the middle of work then as well?

The girl put the magazine in her bag and pointed out of the window to where a car was pulling up. “Looks like it’s Diane’s turn. Boy, is she in for a treat. Anyway, I must run. See you next week.”

I walked to the window to get a closer look. I didn’t care if it was considered inappropriate to spy on your neighbors. I had to get to the bottom of this. Why was Diane doing a session with Alex when she could barely park her car without knocking over a lamppost?

Was Alex getting naked in there with each and every one of these women? I found it hard to believe, but then again, why did they all keep filing in and out of his house, looking so… satisfied?

Diane walked up to Alex’s front door with a big smile on her face. I imagined her red fingernails digging into his flesh, and her asking Alex to ruffle her feathers. I almost vomited in my mouth and tried to come up with a different explanation. Maybe he was a masseur? I shook my head. Getting a massage wouldn’t leave you all sweaty and unable to walk, now would it?

I fired off an email to Dean, telling him what I had to endure here to get my promotion and explaining my theory. He’d most likely laugh his socks off when reading about my predicament, but maybe he’d have some helpful advice for me, like sealing my ears and eyes shut with hot wax or something so that I’d be oblivious to whatever was going on at Alex’s place.

I tried to busy myself by unpacking a box of book orders. My favorite author had written another romance novel and I had devoured it as soon as I got my hands on a copy last summer. Working at a bookstore had the added privilege of reading books months before their release date.

People often mocked my obsession with these kind of novels, but to me it was the perfect way of disappearing into a different reality for a couple of hours. I’d been single for years, and living through fictional characters was the only way for me to experience the thrills of true love and romantic gestures. Not that I would ever admit that to anyone. I didn’t want people to know how lonely I felt sometimes. How jealous I was of others who had someone to share dinner with or warm their feet in bed, while I had to make do with TV dinners for one and a hot-water bottle.

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