Her Holiday Prince Charming

“My business partner,” Erik added.

Pax reached out. “And partner in crime.”

Shaking her hand, he gave her a quick once-over, the kind men who enjoy women often do, along with a rakish wink. “We go back a long way. You’re Rory,” he said, sparing his partner the introduction, along with whatever he could have added about their apparently extensive history.

Her glance bounced between the two unquestionably attractive, undoubtedly successful, probably rather fearless males. With the sense that their history might be rather intriguing, she offered Pax an apologetic smile of her own. “I’m really sorry to cut into your day like this.”

“Not a problem. He’d do the same for me,” he admitted, eyeing her with no small amount of curiosity. “You’re really taking over this place?”

Something in the man’s tone gave her pause.

“I am,” she replied. “Why?”

“It’ll seem really different, is all. I used to hang out here with Erik when we were kids. We built our first boat in Gramps’s garage down there. And this store... It was just the Sullivans here all those years. They had sort of a mom-and-pop thing going,” he explained, looking her over as if to verify some preconceived impression. “Down-to-earth. Comfortable, you know? I never thought about it being run by someone...”

Like you, she was sure he’d been about to say, only to be cut off by the quick-but-subtle slicing motion Erik made across his own throat.

“...else,” he hastily concluded. “But if Erik’s going to teach you the ropes,” he hurried to add, “I’m sure you don’t have a thing to worry about. The guy’s got the patience of Job.”

Meaning he thought she was going to require...what? she wondered, swinging her glance to Erik. Patience of biblical proportions?

Erik pointedly ignored her. “Are you going to help me move this, Merrick?”

“Absolutely. I’m on it.”

As if wanting to muffle his partner, Erik motioned to the furniture the large piece blocked. “As soon as we get this out of the way, we’ll take up your son’s dresser,” he told her. “Where do you want those bookcases?”

“In the spare room across from Tyler’s.” Please, she might have added, but his friend’s insinuation still stung.

“Is there a bed that goes in there?”

“I don’t have a spare bed anymore.” She nodded toward the headboard and nightstands an aisle over with the same carving as the armoire. “That’s a set we had in a guest room. I’ll use it for my room now.”

She’d sold the bed she’d slept in with Curt for so many years. Its new owner had picked up all the master bedroom furnishings the morning her movers had come. She’d sold the bulk of her other possessions to an estate broker she’d met at the country club to which she no longer belonged. Had it not been for Tyler, she’d have sold everything and bought only what she’d need to start over. But too much had changed for him already for her to indulge the need she felt to shed all the reminders of a life that no longer was.