The Storm Series, page 17
When I was done setting the boxes aside, I looked over at her, then asked, “Why Possibilities?”
Her entire face softened, and she really was fucking stunning. “I like the idea that it’s always possible to find the light at the end of everyone’s own personal tunnel,” she answered. “Kindness should be the norm, so in a world where it’s not, I like to think that someone can come into my shop and find a little piece of happiness.”
“You’re a dreamer,” I stated.
“I am,” she admitted. “But it’s more than that.”
I cocked my head a bit. “Meaning?”
“Why is it so hard to be kind?” she posed. “Why is it so hard to choose happiness? Why does self-care come with so much guilt? Why can’t we want to be happy and that be enough?”
“Because we’ve been brainwashed to believe that wealth is what paves the way to happiness,” I replied, stating the obvious. “You can’t pay your bills with happiness or kindness, Ms. Banks.”
Her nose scrunched up. “Can you just call me Gypsy? Or would that be unprofessional.”
“Since this is a favor, first names are fine,” I replied, though as nicely as I could.
“Look, I’m not stupid,” she said as she stood up from her chair, giving me another glimpse of that body of hers. “I know that you can’t pay your bills with good intentions. I know that…I know that the real world expects accountability and a lot of common sense.” She looked like she was getting upset, and my stomach was already tightening with that possibility. “But…but I’m not stupid or…or weird just because I think that people should be nice to each other. I’m not…strange because I believe in positive energy or natural healing remedies. I’m not…I know how to do math. I know that-”
“Whoa,” I said, lifting my palms out to slow her down. “I never said that you were stupid, Gypsy.”
The beautiful girl looked mutinous. “It was implied.”
My brows rose. Even if I thought that someone had a few puzzle pieces missing, I’d never be so cruel as to mention it. My opinion of other people didn’t benefit anyone, so I usually kept that shit to myself. At any rate, I was a nobody, so no one should care what I thought about them.
“No, it wasn’t,” I replied. “I called you a dreamer. I never said anything about your intelligence.”
She started wringing her hands in front of her. “I’ll walk you out now,” she muttered, and there was no way that I was going to leave this woman feeling judged and unhappy.
I gave her a terse nod as I grabbed my briefcase off her desk. “Of course.”
As she led me out of her office and through her store, I glanced around the room some more, really taking in how she sold a little bit of everything. Common sense also told me that it had to be expensive for her to accumulate such a variety of merchandise. She wasn’t buying things in bulk, giving herself a wholesale bargain price on her items. She probably wasn’t making a dime in profits, and it was incredible how that didn’t bother her at all.
Once we reached the front of the shop, she unlocked the door, then said, “Thank you for your help.”
Even though it was inappropriate as hell, I reached out, then tipped her chin up with my finger. “Do you like breakfast burritos?”
Her pale eyes blinked up at me. “What?”
“I’m springing for breakfast on Saturday,” I informed her, making a last-minute decision. “Do you like breakfast burritos?”
“Yeah,” she answered, still seemingly a little confused. “I usually order the bacon one.”
I grinned down at her as I let go of her chin. “Perfect. Coffee or orange juice?”
“Orange juice,” she answered like I knew that she would.
“Okay,” I said as I reached for the door handle. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
She nodded. “See you Saturday.”
I ended up going home, then taking the coldest shower known to man.
Chapter 7
Gypsy~
I was nervous, and I felt stupid for it. Roark Storm was not interested in me, but I had still showered and gotten dressed in the hope of impressing him. After my mini-meltdown yesterday, I felt like I needed to redeem myself, even if it was just to show that I had enough sense to dress myself. I had let Lance’s words infiltrate my self-confidence, and Roark had paid the price. Yeah, I hadn’t acted like a demon possessed, but I’d still acted emotionally enough to be embarrassing.
At any rate, instead of a plain t-shirt and jeans, I had opted for a nice white blouse, floral gypsy skirt, and white flip-flops. It was a Saturday morning, so comfortable was the theme. So, after getting dressed, pulling my hair up in a ponytail, then dabbing on minimal makeup, I’d come downstairs, then had begun cleaning up my office as much as possible.
When the shop phone rang, I quickly answered it, remembering that Roark and I hadn’t exchanged phone numbers. “Hello?”
“Hey, I’m at the backdoor,” Roark replied, his voice sounding just as sexy as it’d had yesterday. “I figured parking in the back was best.”
“Yeah, of course,” I rushed out, hanging up on him, wincing when I realized that I was acting like a lunatic again.
Racing towards the backdoor of the store, I opened it to find Roark grinning at me, a brown bag in one hand, our drinks in the other. He was also dressed in a black Pro Club shirt, dark blue jeans, and black sneakers. He looked comfortable, casual, and gorgeous. My only saving grace was that he hadn’t shown up in grey sweatpants; I probably would have jumped his bones if he’d had.
“Oh, let me get that,” I offered, earning a scowl from him.
“No, I’ve got it,” he said, his voice brooking no room for argument.
“Oh…uhm, okay…” I muttered as I stepped out of his way.
Nothing more was said as I followed him to my office, and I almost bumped into his back as he froze just inside the room. I wasn’t sure what was wrong, but his entire body looked tense as hell, and I couldn’t imagine that it was a good thing when Roark Storm was irritated.
“Did you move the boxes?” he asked, his voice sounding clipped and annoyed.
“Yeah, I did,” I answered as I squeezed my way around his large frame. “I thought that it’d be easier if-”
“You don’t do that,” he said, cutting me off. “Okay?”
“Do what?” I asked, thoroughly confused.
“Move shit,” he practically barked. “As long as I’m here, you don’t need to be lifting anything.”
To say that I was shocked was an understatement. “But…I lift boxes all the time,” I informed him. “Since it’s just me and Rocky here, I do the inventory and deliveries.”
I looked into Roark Storm’s gorgeous face, and he looked like he was going to bust a vein. “Be that as it may, when I’m here, I will be doing the lifting,” he announced, and a part of me was too wary to argue with the man.
“Yeah, uhm…okay,” I agreed, still not sure what was setting him off.
After setting the bag and drink carrier on the desk, he said, “I need to go get some stuff from my car before I get started.”
Roark left my office, and I couldn’t help but think that I had upset him somehow. Maybe he hadn’t liked waiting in the back, or maybe he just wasn’t a morning person, though I doubted that. Whatever the reason for his irritation, it was obvious that it had something to do with me.
When he returned, it was with his briefcase and a laptop. He looked serious enough that I wasn’t sure what to do, but the scent from the burritos had my mouth watering. However, I wasn’t so uncouth as to not wait for him to pull his breakfast from the bag first. After all, he’d been the one to get and pay for the food, which reminded me…
“Thank you for breakfast,” I said. “It was kind of you.”
His blue eyes slid my way. “You’re welcome.”
I kept myself from letting out a deep sigh. Though he sounded cordial enough, it was easy to tell that he was still upset about something. Any other person would leave it alone because it was rude to pry, but I prided myself on choosing happiness, so it didn’t sit well with me that Roark was troubled about something. Yeah, it wasn’t my place, but I just couldn’t see myself opening the shop, then going about my business like something wasn’t off.
“Are you okay?” I finally asked as Roark began pulling our burritos out of the bag. “Did I do something wrong?” I almost cringed, Lance’s words back to the forefront of my brain.
“She’s a people pleaser.”
I watched Roark crack his neck to the side as he answered, “No, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Are you sure?” I asked skeptically.
His face softened a bit. “I have…uh, certain views on women doing manual labor.”
My eyes widened at that. “Are you for real?”
Roark nodded. “The heavy lifting should be done by the men.”
Absolutely flummoxed, I just stared at him. It was one of the most sexist things that I’d heard in a long time, but he was also not making any apologies for his views, which I had to admire because lots of people were flakey when it came to their convictions. If they thought that they were going to be judged for their opinions or beliefs, they were quick to backtrack.
However, instead of judging him, I chose to try to understand his point of view. “Why?”
He scowled a bit. “Why what?”
“Why should the heavy lifting be done by men only?” I clarified.
“Why shouldn’t it?” he countered as he set my orange juice and burrito on the desk near me.
“Well, because…what’s a girl supposed to do if something needs to be lifted, but there’s no man around to lift it for her?” This really sounded like a conversation that should be taking place in the forties.
Roark’s scowl deepened. “Then leave it until a man is available to lift the damn thing.”
My lips twitched.
Could Roark Storm be any cuter?
“You know…that’s not realistic, right?” I posed, trying not to smile.
The man ran his right hand through his hair, ruffling it all over the place. “Just…just ignore me,” he sighed. “I have issues, and when I remember, I work on them.”
I grabbed my burrito off the desk. “We all have issues.”
“Yeah, I suppose that we do,” he muttered, though I wasn’t sure if it was in agreement or not.
Changing the subject, I said, “Since Rocky has the weekends off, I won’t be much help to you once the shop opens.”
“That’s fine,” Roark replied as he unwrapped his breakfast. “I work better alone anyway.”
Feeling slightly rejected, I said, “But I’ll be available for any questions that you might have. We’re not all that busy on the weekends.”
Roark eyed me as he bit into his burrito. When he was finished chewing, he said, “Then from a business standpoint, it would probably be more beneficial financially if you were closed on Saturdays, too.”
Not caring that it was going to make me sound stupid, I said, “Probably, but…it’s nice when someone comes in and finds that one thing that they couldn’t find anywhere else. I like saving the day.”
Instead of calling me stupid or pointing out that the internet order and delivery was how most people saved the day, he just nodded. “I can see that.”
Trying to prove my point, I said, “Just like with Junie. It felt good to be able to help her out the other day.”
To my surprise, Roark grinned. “Yeah, Ripley loves the bracelets. He sets his on his nightstand when they go to sleep, so that the glow will wake him up if Junie leaves their bed.”
I laughed at that. “So, he makes her sleep with the bracelet on?”
Roark nodded. “If he could manage it without ruining the damn things, he’d screw it on tight enough that she could never take it off.”
“That’s oddly sweet,” I remarked, meaning it.
“Yeah, well…my brother is very serious about his wife,” he replied. “He’s…he had to endure watching her be in love with someone else once, and so he’s very aware of how lucky he is to have her. There isn’t anything that Ripley wouldn’t do for Junie.”
I couldn’t stop the envy that polluted my heart just a little. I had no idea what it felt like to have a man love me like that, and though I was happy for anyone that was fortunate enough to have something so special, it was a harsh reminder that I was alone and was probably going to have to live out the rest of my life that way. Though mean, Lance hadn’t been lying when he’d said that I was…different.
We went on to eat our breakfast in silence, and I was mildly grateful when Roark finally kicked me out of my office, so that he could get to work. After all, he was a waterfall that I’d be stupid to try to chase.
Chapter 8
Roark~
I was five hours into Gypsy’s disastrous bookkeeping, and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. The more progress that I made, the more that my head hurt. The woman was barely making it, and not because the merchandise was sitting on the shelves. Every single time that I couldn’t find a receipt for something, she’d inform me of the sob story that had prompted her to give the item away. There were also quite a few items that she’d sold at cost, and I was going to need an entire bottle of scotch by the time I got home today. It was bad enough that I’d already had to take four smoke breaks, which was a lot for me in the span of only five hours.
There was also no way that I could walk away from this office without cleaning out and archiving all the shit in her filing cabinets. Even if it killed me, I wasn’t leaving this place without setting her up for success this upcoming year. I also knew that I was going to spring for an updated cash register for her. The one that she was using looked like an antique, and though it went with the aesthetics of her shop, it lacked the technology to organize her sales for her. Yeah, it was going to set me back a few thousand dollars, but the woman wanted to sell kindness for a fucking living. What kind of asshole would I be to just leave her to fail?
Glancing at my watch, I saw that it was already past one. I had skipped lunch, and my stomach was letting me know it. So, taking a break, I walked out of the office to see if Gypsy wanted to grab something to eat. However, my back straightened when I saw a guy batting his fucking eyelashes at her from across the checkout counter.
“Hey,” I greeted, letting my presence known.
Both Gypsy and the stranger straightened, and the guy immediately began sizing me up, and that had my hands almost fisting, though I had absolutely no right to feel any type of way about a man talking with Gypsy. I had just met the woman yesterday, and though I was very interested in her, we were complete opposites, and I couldn’t see me being her type.
“Oh, hey,” she replied, smiling. “Done already?”
I shook my head as I made my way to go stand next to her. “Not even close.” Ignoring the stranger, I looked down at her. “However, it’s past lunch, and so I thought that you might be hungry.”
“Lunch sounds great,” the guy said, making my jaw tick.
“No,” Gypsy quickly rushed out. “It’s Saturday, Polo. I’m not letting you force your healthy eating habits on me during the weekend.” My eye started to twitch, worse than when I’d gotten a first look at Gypsy’s banker boxes. “I let you ruin my joy of food during enough weekdays that I’m putting my foot down during the weekends.”
“Christ, woman,” he swore. “You act like you’re knee-deep in rice cakes or something.”
Instead of commenting on his statement, Gypsy made our introductions. “Roark Storm, meet Polo Oatley. He’s one of the trainers and nutritionists for Carter Gyms.”
Polo reached out to shake my hand, and I could see how that’d be his job. Even though he was an inch or so shorter than I was, he had sunny blonde hair, light brown eyes, and looked like he worked out and also looked to be around my age. I already knew that Gypsy was twenty-seven, but that was only because she’d given me access to everything in her office, which had included paperwork with her personal information on it.
“It’s good to meet you,” Polo said as we shook hands. “I hear that you’re going to save my girl from the tax man this season.”
My girl.
“I’m going to do my best,” I replied taking a step back from the blonde that had been scrambling my brain. Whatever else I might be, I didn’t fuck around with women that were taken.
Polo looked back at Gypsy. “How about I let you choose where we get lunch from?”
“No,” Gypsy answered. “I know better than to fall for your tricks, Polo.”
The man just grinned at her. “Okay, since you’re refusing to let me join you guys for lunch, how about we go to dinner tonight?”
Gypsy’s eyes narrowed up at him suspiciously. “My pick?”
He hesitated, but only for a second. “Sure.” He shrugged. “Why not?”
“I mean it, Polo,” Gypsy insisted. “I am not going to waste my dinner picking at some leafy green crap that I can’t pronounce.”
Polo laughed. “That was one time, sweetness.”
Sweetness?
“One time too many,” she snorted.
Polo looked my way. “She acts like lettuce is going to kill her.”
“I’m a steak and potatoes kind of man myself,” I replied, shrugging.
The man shook his head. “Don’t say that to a nutritionist. Seriously.”
“Well, then I guess I shouldn’t tell you that I smoke, too,” I remarked, a smirk on my face.
He looked horrified, but before he could say anything about my vice, Gypsy asked, “Did you just come by to annoy me?”
“I was in the neighborhood, so I decided to check in on you,” he answered simply, looking back at her. “I also wanted to check out your new friend.” Polo glanced over at me with no shame. “Gypsy’s too trusting, and while that’d be admirable in a world of make-believe, it worries me in this world.”
“You wouldn’t be much of a boyfriend if you didn’t look out for her.” I knew that my voice sounded a bit hard, but I wasn’t lying.
