Page 39 of Under Daddy's Spell

“So, return them after the repairman does his thing. Please, Tessa,” she pleaded. “I can’t take another day in this hot box. But I have baking to do, and we have to stay open if you’re going to make payroll, which is kind of important to me.”

The delivery man came in with box number two.

“Excuse me,” Angie said before he went out for the third. “What’s your return policy on these?”

“Don’t know. I only deliver what they tell me to, but it should say on the paperwork. My guess is at least a week, maybe more.”

“See?” she said when he left. “Jordan said he’d try to get a repairman out today, right? Once he fixes the problem, you can call Seth and have him return them in plenty of time.”

“You’re devious,” she accused her longtime friend.

“No, babe. I’m hot and desperate.”

When Tessa relented, Angie let out a whoop, hugged her then slid one of the heavy boxes behind her bar. In minutes, thanks to the utility knife she kept handy, she had it unboxed and plugged in. Then she stood over top of it, her shirt stretched out so the cold air would blow under it, with a huge, very relieved, grin on her face.

Resigned to owing Seth a huge thank you, Tessa pushed one of the remaining two boxes into the reading nook, where it would also cool anyone seated at the tables. The other went to the checkout counter. Having soaked up enough coolness for the moment, Angie came over and helped her unpack the others.

With all three units going, the front of the store was soon bearable again. About ten feet down the aisles it got warm. Her customers probably wouldn’t browse long, but they wouldn’t melt in the time it took to grab a book or two, or they could hit up her bestseller and clearance tables. In either case, she could stay open for business.

Yeah, she had misjudged Seth badly. He had a slightly crass sense of humor, that was all. Her payback to him would have to be ginormous because he was a lifesaver.

Chapter Thirteen

WHEN TESSA CLOSED,at her usual time, thank heaven, the front of her store was a very pleasant seventy-two degrees. She was alone because when Kayla’s ride home arrived early—the poor girl’s old clunker was in worse shape than her own car, in the shop more than out—she’d let her leave. In the quiet that followed, except for the humming of her three white-enamel, cool-air-blowing new best friends, her mind kept returning to Jordan and what she was thinking was a lot different than last week.

“Arrogant, impossible caveman,” she muttered as she scoured the sink. “Barging in like he owns the place. Then spanking me, like he owns me! And trying to kiss me afterward. He’s got a lot of nerve.”

She’d said that at least a dozen times since flipping the sign at nine on the dot.

“Manhandling Neanderthal, punishing me like he had the right. Especially in my own store,” she continued, getting worked up all over again. “Where anyone could see! And did!”

She rinsed the nylon scrubby and shot it with a couple of sprays of disinfectant then all but threw it into its caddy.

“If Jordan Cooper thinks I’m still going out with him tomorrow night after what he did, he’s got another think coming.”

She was hoping to calm down before calling him to cancel their date for dinner and jazz, but that wasn’t happening any time soon. Taking a few deep breaths so her voice wouldn’t shake when she spoke to him, she pulled up his number from her contacts. When it didn’t ring but went straight to voice mail, her knees turned rubbery with relief.

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