“I’ll have one of everything.”
Viv laughed. “You going to single-handedly keep me in business, Officer Price?”
“If I must.” He sighed and put his hand over his heart like he was about to take the oath of allegiance. “The sacrifice won’t be easy but for you…anything.” And then he grinned, looking goofy and so damn sexy she wanted to lick him like a lollipop.
“Okay, then. You asked for it.”
Viv left the counter and walked between display shelves, finishing up with a dozen bars of chocolate and bringing them back, setting them down next to his hat. “Can you handle all these?”
He grinned. “I can handle whatever you throw down.”
Ignoring his innuendo, she started to run them through the price scanner. Shaking her head, she said, “I would be fat as a house if I ate all this lot.” Viv ate chocolate every day—it was an occupational hazard and she wasn’t a saint. But she had to be very aware of how much that contributed to the fat cells on her ass and how those suckers loved company.
He patted his stomach and Viv’s eyes strayed to the taut, flat stretch beneath his snug-fitting shirt, knowing full well what it looked like under the fabric. “I’m lucky. I have an awesome metabolism.”
Reuben Price had an awesome everything. “Cash or card?” she asked ignoring his blatant compliment-fishing expedition.
He handed over his plastic. “Card.”
*
By Friday afternoon, after a very loooong first week, Viv was starting to feel like a pariah. Sure, she’d had some customers—the vast majority of them not locals—but about the only money the shop was actually making was coming out of Reubens’ bank account. That in itself wasn’t a big problem. Delish was a company that did very well fiscally, which relieved pressure on underperforming stores. Nor did they expect immediate profits and were happy to nurture new stores for a few months. Managers and staff were paid out of corporate funds if the takings weren’t sufficient enough. But if the Marietta store kept its current trajectory of sales—or lack of sales—then they’d be closing the shop by end of January next year.
And Viv really didn’t want that to happen.
She’d never had a store fail and she wasn’t about to start because going rural was her idea. It was clearly marked in the report of the company’s AGM as her proposal after presenting reams of information to the board regarding the viability of the stores outside major centers. And the other two small-town stores had done well right out of the gates and were currently both still thriving.
But she’d pushed for Marietta. Pushed for it over Bozeman even when Harriet herself, who had been a mentor to Viv, had indicated it might be the better option. Thankfully the CEO and the corporate team trusted her and her instincts. They had no reason not to because she’d never been wrong. That had always given Viv a true sense of pride, but it also meant her professional reputation was on the line.
In short—Viv had a lot to prove.
At the moment she didn’t even feel able to start advertising for a manager and extra staff. If the shop wasn’t viable the last thing she wanted to do was to employ one or two people, then have to lay them off when they shut their doors. And, realistically she could easily handle the number of customers they had so far.
They were getting some repeat business—not just Reuben—which was encouraging. She’d just thought they’d have had more people through the door by now. Viv hadn’t counted on just how fiercely loyal Marietta would be.
They sure took the local-first mantra as gospel here in Montana.
What she needed was a plan. One that didn’t involve selling her entire day’s quota to Reuben because while it was welcome and fun to watch him loading up every lunch hour looking mighty fine in that uniform of his and fantasizing about him ingesting it sans uniform, it didn’t seem like a very viable long-term plan.
Still, as she’d told herself every day for the last five days—it was only the first week. There wasn’t really any immediate cause for concern especially with the weekend upon her and an increase in tourist traffic.
But, it was a relief to shut up shop for the day. She’d sold thirty-six dollars’ worth of stock—her worst day yet—and her feet were killing her. She could walk around in stilettoes all day and be fine but just standing in the one spot…that was murder on her insteps. For someone who’d done nothing much today, she was exhausted. She just wanted to pour herself a glass of wine, sink into a hot bath then lose herself in her latest Netflix binge for a few hours.
Not think about the shop for an evening.
It had turned decidedly chilly and Viv was pleased she’d switched from her pencil skirts to tailored pants as she pulled on her long wool coat. It was a mustard color, and it tied at the waist and fell just below the knees. Large funky mother-of-pearl buttons and huge lapels drew the gaze to where it crisscrossed in front to form a flattering V-neckline.
Viv always felt sexy in this coat—even when she was weary. It hid the evidence of her daily chocolate consumption clinging to her ass and dimpling the tops of her thighs while emphasizing her smaller waist, her décolletage and the long stretch of her throat.
It was certainly the pick-me-up she needed, today.
As was the vision of Reuben farther down the Main Street boardwalk, striding in her direction. He slowed and whistled and, despite the disapproving glares she could feel coming from all sides, it put an extra swing in her hips.
They both slowed and stopped when they drew level. He shook his head. “I should arrest you for wearing that thing in public.”
A smile quirked Viv’s lips. “On what grounds?”
“Public nuisance.”
She laughed. “Am I causing any bother?”
“Well I can’t speak for anyone else but I’m pretty bothered. The dreams I’m going to have about you and that coat.” He shook his head again.
Viv’s lips twitched. “Officer Price.” She feigned genteel affront. “Is that any way to speak to a member of the public?”
A broad grin split his handsome face as he tugged on the brim of his hat. “Sorry, ma’am.”
Except he didn’t look remotely sorry. In fact, Viv was pretty sure he was picturing how good she might look in nothing but the coat.
“You want to go for a drink?” he asked.
One part of Viv—the naked-under-the-coat Viv—wanted that very much. But she was exhausted and more than that, she was tired of being on. Of being the face of Delish where she had to be teeth-achingly polite to unfriendly, sometimes downright rude, people.
She was done letting it all roll off her for today.
“Thank you for the offer but my feet are killing me and I’m looking forward to putting them up in a hot bath, pouring a glass of wine and chilling out in front of some Netflix.”
He gave a little half groan as he clutched his chest. “Putting those pictures in my head is just plain cruel.”
“I’m sure you’ll survive,” Viv said dryly.
“Okay, how about this.” He dropped his hand. “While you relax in the bath—” His Adam’s apple bobbed as if he was trying very hard not to go there and failing. “I make you some dinner. Something quick and easy. I’m great with pasta. Then, while you’re watching the TV, I give you a foot massage. I’m also really great with foot massages—no strings. I promise. Purely as a friend.”