Page 23 of Faking I Do
“Who’s got a lot of beavers?” Bodie rounded a tall shelving unit.
My face heated. “What are you doing here?”
“Saw your truck parked out front and wanted to make sure everything was okay.” He had on a pair of jeans and a button-down flannel plaid shirt. It was nice to see him outside of his usual deputy uniform. Reminded me of when we used to just be friends, not grown-ups trying to navigate a new professional relationship.
“I meant to lock the door. Zina and I are just taking a look at the inventory. Your family sure has some interesting tastes.” I took the ceramic beaver from Zina’s hands. “Any idea why they’d have hundreds of breakable beavers?”
Now Bodie’s cheeks tinged pink. “No idea. They’re the high school’s mascot, right? Maybe they ordered them or they’re for a festival or something.”
“The breakable beaver festival?” Zina asked.
I stifled a laugh. Bodie reached for the ceramic figurine. “Who knows? If there was a market for it, I’m sure my dad had a good reason.”
“How’s Shotgun doing?” Zina asked.
Bodie’s eyes lit up as he set the beaver down on the shelf. “She’s doing great. I’ve actually got her out in the truck if you want to say hi.”
“I’d love that. Y’all carry on, I’m going to go give her a treat.”
I loved the fact that my friend didn’t go anywhere without a pocketful of dog treats. Zina made her way down the long aisle of shelves and disappeared into the front office.
“So how’s it going? Find anything interesting?” Bodie asked.
“Not really. Tons of Valentine’s decor and a bunch of weird stuff.”
“Like cases of beavers?” His lips split into a teasing grin.
“Yes, exactly like that,” I agreed. “Are your dad and pops still trying to get all of this precious stuff back? There’s a lot of it but I can’t imagine it’s worth much.”
“What are you planning on doing with it?”
“Well, some of it we can probably use.” I fingered a bolt of white tulle netting. “I’m thinking of liquidating the rest so wecan finance the project. If your family wants it back bad enough, I suppose they can buy it from us.”
Bodie’s long fingers traced the rim of his hat. “Sounds fair enough. How quick are you looking to move on it?”
“Quick. Adeline heard what we’re doing and wants to be our first client so she moved her wedding from September to May.” I closed the box I’d been checking. “That’s good timing anyway since most weddings take place from June to October.”
“You sure are becoming quite the expert on the subject.” Surprisingly, his tone held no judgment.
“It’s kind of fun. A nice break from slinging burgers.”
“I bet.” He glanced toward his boots and shuffled his feet around. “Hey, as long as we have a second . . .”
I looked up. Those gorgeous gray eyes focused in on me, making it impossible to look away. He bit his lip. If I didn’t know him any better, I might think he was nervous. But Bodie Phillips didn’t get nervous. He didn’t get flustered, either—at least not unless he found himself holding a breakable beaver.
“What’s up?”
He shifted his weight, finally releasing me from that penetrating gaze. “I wanted to apologize for yesterday. The way my dad and pops acted over at your place. It was?—”
“It was fine.” I took a step toward him. “Obviously they’re upset. I would be, too, if I dropped the ball and cost myself a mint.”
“The stuff they said though. I just want you to know that I don’t feel the same way they do.”
I gulped in a breath. It wasn’t like Bodie to talk about feelings. He kept things lighthearted. Even when my mom passed, Bodie was the one who made me laugh again, who reminded me how to have fun. “How exactly do you feel?”
I’d reached him by then and stood next to where he leaned against a shelf full of cherub-shaped tumblers. “That’s just it. Idon’t know. My gut tells me something’s going down with the family business. Dad’s been talking to Buck Little a lot.”
“Yeah, he said he’s moving his operation to Swynton for some big tax cut.” I scoffed. “My dad said they had that conversation many times over the years.”
