Chapter 174
“Very well,” Fanny had said with a sigh. “It’s a bit more than I wanted to spend, but James won’t mind. He simply wants me to be happy.”
It was no wonder Fanny Widehips already had a husband. Perhaps she’d let herself go after the marriage. Christian knew he shouldn’t be so critical of others. It wasn’t befitting someone with his name. Listening to his father do it might have made it come naturally, but that didn’t make it right.
He didn’t stop, though. Amusing himself with comparisons between the larger woman and various wide animals, he kept himself busy while he waited his turn. The pitter patter of rain on the windows was a welcome sound. The women were leaving, and the fresh downpour, however light, might deter others from wandering in.
“I apologize for your wait,” the shopkeeper said as she came over. The scent of rosewater hit his lungs as she approached. She was lovely and dainty. Christian envisioned picking her up and placing her carefully into his pocket, carrying her back to the cabin with him.
“It’s no trouble,” he said, smiling and grateful the words had come out in the correct order. “How are you today?” He’d rehearsed that question enough times that it also came out without a hitch.
“Well, thank you.” She gave a grateful nod. “Although, the weather could be better.”
“Yes. It could be. Better.” He had been prepared to tell her he was also well and thank her for asking, so her statement had thrown him off. The awkward cadence of his response made her arch an eyebrow. “Rain is… really… wet.”
Again, she was staring at him with a large question mark hanging over her head. He couldn’t blame her. What an idiotic statement to make! Of course, the rain was wet! “Can I help you find something?” she asked, eyeing the lace.
How very professional of her not to comment on his stupid remark. Better to get him what he needed and get him out of her shop. “I need four yards of this one,” he said, pointing out the lace his mother had requested.
“Oh, that’s a lovely choice,” she said, picking up the spool and carrying it to the cutting table. “Are you getting married?”
Confused, Christian followed behind her. “No, but even if I were, I wouldn’t need any lace.”
She laughed, which puzzled him. What was humorous about his statement? Did she think a man needed lace for his wedding costume? Surely, a seamstress, if that’s what she was, or at least someone who worked in a dress shop, should know better.
“You are quite hilarious,” she said, stretching the lace out to measure it. “Can you imagine? A man needing lace? I thought perhaps you were buying it for your betrothed’s wedding gown.”
That made perfect sense. He hoped she didn’t notice the color flooding his cheeks. She’d thought he was joking when he’d practically reprimanded her for making an idiotic comment, when he simply hadn’t understood the question. “It’s for my sister. She’s getting married. Soon.”
“How lovely! You’re so kind to traverse out on a rainy day and fetch it for her. Is she making her own gown?”
“No, my mother is making it for her.” He should’ve said our mother. Idiot! “She’s also her mother.”
Again, the girl was giggling. Did she think he was trying to be funny again? “How convenient that you and your sister have the same mother!” Yes, she hadn’t realized he was simply incapable of making sense when he opened his mouth.
Once the lace was cut, she carried it over to the place where the money box was kept and gave him his total. Christian reached into his pocket to pull out the money his mother had given him. Soon enough, he’d be out on his own, making his own money, one way or another. Would this tiny blonde woman mind that his true job was to keep the world safe from Vampires, or would she expect him to be a lawyer or doctor if she were to marry him?
The thought gave him cause to see if he could bridge the topic of weddings to the question that had been on his mind each time he’d visited this store for the last several months, ever since she’d begun working here. “What about you?” he asked, handing over the money and waiting for his change.
“What about me?” she asked, a coy smile on her lips. She counted out his change and dropped it into his hand, her fingertips brushing against his palm. Tingles radiated up his arm. He wanted to touch her more, to feel her smooth skin on his.
Christian cleared his throat, pushing his hand inside of his pocket with the coins but not pulling it back out. “Are you... . That is… do you have…. What I mean to ask is… do you have….”
“Oh, yes. I have one,” she said with a nod.
Christian felt his face melt, his shoulders visibly slumping. How stupid of him to assume she might be interested in courting him. Of course she was married! “You do?” he asked. It was more of a statement than a question, though, as he stared at the floor.
“Yes. Doesn’t everyone?”
“What’s that?” Confusion washed over him as he looked back at her beautiful face.
“Doesn’t everyone have one? A mother?” She began to giggle again, and Christian felt crimson paint his cheeks.
“I meant to say….” The bell behind him chimed, causing him to turn and look over his shoulder. Despite the rain, two older women came through the door, bringing in rivers that made the mud he’d tracked in look like a small stream.
She cursed beneath her breath. He heard her. This beautiful, blonde, buxom woman who might fit snuggly in his pocket said a swear word. His eyes widened. He hadn’t been expecting that at all. He recalled the time his mother had smashed her fingers working on the fence with her father and had said the same word, “Damn.” Peter had struck her hard enough to leave a bruise, which was considerable considering how hard it was to bruise a Guardian.
“Pardon me,” she said, her own cheeks turning red. “Can I get anything else for you, sir?”
“N--no,” he stammered, taking the lace. “Thank you.”
She nodded and hurried off to help the dripping women. Christian put the lace in his jacket pocket to attempt to keep it dry and headed for the door. His eyes went to her one more time. He wasn’t sure what to make of this. She wasn’t quite what he’d thought she was. But then, how much could one truly tell about a person from a few encounters in a shop? He’d need to discuss this with his mother before he decided whether or not to ask any more questions of the beautiful blonde. Perhaps she wasn’t quite the one for him after all.
