The Quietest Shop on Main (Shops on Main #3)

Chapter 19

19

S kyla turned the sign to Closed for Lunch and headed toward her little lunch bag. She needed to eat fast today. The decorating for the shop was only half done, and tomorrow she was working at the library.

The morning had flown by after opening, lots of shoppers stopping by to say hello or purchase Christmas gifts and nick knacks.

Skyla loved that she recognized so many of her customers. During the summer, the tourists swarmed Lighthouse Bay, meaning she dealt with strangers, but during the winter, the tourism numbers were much lower and she was able to enjoy her time behind the counter all the more.

Just as she was about to take a bite of her turkey sandwich, someone knocked on the glass.

Frowning, Skyla came around the corner and froze. “Dalton?” Her mouth immediately turned up into a smile, and she rushed over, unlocking the door. “Hey…I didn’t know you were stopping by today.”

Dalton stomped his feet, then stepped inside, moving just enough for her to close to the door. He didn’t even speak before sweeping her into his arms and smothering her with kisses.

After stealing her breath, he began kissing all over her face, jaw, and neck. “I missed you,” he said softly between kisses.

Skyla laughed softly, pulling away. “We just saw each other yesterday, and that tickles.”

Dalton’s kisses paused. “You’re ticklish?”

“What?” Skyla pulled out of her mental paradise. “I didn’t say that.” She pushed against his chest, but Dalton’s hand on her back held her firm, as a slow smile crept across his face. “Dalton,” she warned.

Dalton’s eyes went wide, the chocolaty brown color lulling Skyla back into a false sense of security. “What?”

“Don’t you dare.” Skyla gave him her best glare. She was all too aware, however, that she was anything but intimidating. Where was Harmony when she needed her?

His fingers dug into her side slightly, and Skyla squealed, trying to jump away.

“I really, really, really, hate being tickled,” she said too quickly.

Dalton’s shoulders and hands relaxed, and he leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose. “Then I won’t do it.”

Now it was Skyla’s eyes that widened. “Are you serious?”

How dark brows pulled together. “Of course. Why would I keep going if you hate it?”

Skyla rose up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Because most guys would still find it funny.” She hadn’t been lying. Skyla was ticklish, and she hated being tickled. It wasn’t fun for her. Yes, the sensation brought on automatic laughter, but it was forced and unpleasant.

She knew that others enjoyed it, but even as a child, Skyla had hated it. It had never occurred to her that she’d find a guy willing to forgo gaining that kind of power, though.

Dalton turned his head and stole another kiss before she could fully pull back. “I’m not trying to be most guys. I’m just Dalton.”

Skyla patted his chest and stepped back, then took his hand and pulled him to the place she’d laid out her lunch. “Well, ‘Just Dalton’ is my favorite, so thank goodness for that.”

Dalton chuckled behind her and let Skyla pull him along. She directed him to a chair. “I was just about to eat lunch. Would you like some?” She held up the other half of her sandwich.

Dalton shook his head and patted the chair beside him. “I just ate, thanks.” He pushed a hand through his wet hair. “I just got done at the gym and wanted to stop by and see you for a bit.”

Skyla sat down, laying the sandwich to the side.

“Oh no, you don’t.” Dalton reached across her and picked it up, handing it back to her. “Don’t not eat just because I’m here.”

Skyla laughed quietly and took it. “It’s kinda awkward to eat when you’re not,” she admitted.

Dalton pursed his lips and looked around. “Then I guess I’ll have to find something to do.” He started to stand, then sat back down. “How’s John?”

Skyla took a deep breath. “The same. Still weak, still grumpy.” She shrugged. “He hasn’t had another session as bad as on Thanksgiving, though.”

Of course, it had only been a couple of days since Thanksgiving, but why point it out?

Who knew what was going to happen with her grandfather? And what would she do when he eventually left her behind? Some older people lasted years in ill health, and some lasted months. The doctors had given her no indication of a timeframe, simply signs to look out for and lifestyle changes that could help prevent another stroke.

With Grandpa’s determination to live how he wanted, it was unclear how any of those changes would actually be of any use to her or him.

Dalton put his arm around Skyla and pulled her in for a hug. “It’s going to be alright,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “You know that right?”

Skyla sniffed and nodded against his shoulder. When she straightened, she wiped at her eyes. “I know. He’s had a good long life, but…he’s the only family I have left and I just…I just struggle with the idea of losing him.”

“That’s perfectly natural,” Dalton assured her. “And I know Liese and I don’t make up for losing your grandfather, but you’re not going to be alone, okay? We won’t let that happen.”

Skyla took another fortifying breath and nodded. “I know. Thanks.”

“Good.” Dalton stood and put his hands on his hips. “You’re decorating. What’s something heavy I can help with that’ll make things easier for you?”

Skyla took a bite of her sandwich and shook her head. “Do you ever stop trying to save people?” she teased around her mouth full of turkey.

Dalton shrugged. “Not if I can help it.” He raised his eyebrows at her, waiting.

Reluctantly, Skyla stood. She appreciated his help, she really did, but spending time holding hands or kissing was much more fun than having him haul heavy things.

Still…she was eating lunch, so there wouldn’t be a lot of that, anyway.

“I haven’t pulled the tree out of the attic.”

Dalton nodded. “I can help you with that.”

Skyla led him to the very back of the store where there was a tiny staircase that went up to the dark, eerie attic. She hated it up there, but was also grateful for the extra space. The shop wasn’t exactly large, so having room for extras was a big boost.

“It’s up there,” she said, pointing to the small door.

Dalton looked at her in surprise. “Uh…I thought this was Christmas, not Halloween.”

She laughed. “I know, right? I’ve always hated it up there.” Skyla shivered.

Straightening, Dalton stuck his chin in the air. “Ah…the cry of a distressed female. No man can resist such a sound.”

Skyla’s laughter grew. “You’re ridiculous.”

He kissed her forehead. “And you’re beautiful.” He pulled open the door and winked. “Be right back.”

Dalton shouldn’t have worked out before coming to help pull this stupid tree down the stairs. How in the world Skyla was planning to do it without him was anyone’s guess.

His back ached, and his arms shook as he slowly made his way slowly down the narrow staircase. Just how big were people back when they built this town? Luca would literally get stuck in here.

“Are you doing okay?”

“Just peachy!” Dalton called over his shoulder. Hopefully, she couldn’t see up the staircase well enough to notice the sweat pouring down his neck and soaking into his t-shirt. No way was he about to admit just how difficult this was.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“Nope,” Dalton snapped. Shoot. That tone wasn’t exactly what he was going for. He’d have to apologize once he got off this death ledge.

The bottom of the stairs was silent as he made his way carefully down the rest of the stairs, scraping his knuckles and face along the way.

He grunted once he reached the main floor, straightening the tree and huffing a little as he looked at Skyla, ready to offer a reluctant apology. It wasn’t that he’d meant to be rude, but geez, that had not been the job he’d signed up for.

His words died in his throat, however, when he noticed Skyla wiping at wet cheeks. “Ah, geez, Skyla, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—”

“You’re bleeding,” she whispered, quickly darting away and running back only moments later with a napkin in her hand. “I haven’t replenished the band-aids in ages, I’m so sorry.” She stepped up and dabbed at a spot that was stinging on his chin. She let out a watery laugh while Dalton continued to stand there like an idiot. “You’d think I’d keep some on hand. I mean, I sell books. People get paper cuts, you know? But…” She shrugged. “I’ve been lax and had other things on my mind.”

Dalton reached up and took the napkin from her. “I’m fine,” he said, still concerned about the tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

Skyla blinked and finally met his eyes. “You…you snapped at me?”

“Uh…” Dalton rubbed the back of his sweaty neck. “I thought I did?”

Skyla waved it off. “I think getting frustrated would be totally natural in this situation. I’m so sorry you got hurt.” She started to reach up again, then stopped and clasped her hands together, as if to keep from touching him.

Dalton wanted to urge her to reach out, but he needed to get the tree in the right spot. He glanced at the staircase. “Out of curiosity, how do you usually get it down?” He asked.

Skyla scrunched up her nose. “Um…very carefully?”

He scowled. “Are you saying you usually do it yourself?”

She nodded.

“How? I mean, it barely fits.”

“Well…” Skyla looked over her shoulder. “It’s not easy, and to be honest, it’s the worst part about decorating. But, I’m smaller than you, so I probably fit in the staircase easier.”

Dalton narrowed his eyes. Skyla was very good about not admitting things that affected her, and he had a thought. “Have you ever gotten hurt bringing it down?”

She bit her lip between her teeth.

“Skyla…”

Huffing, Skyla held her palms in the air. “I’ve stumbled a few times. Rolled an ankle, gotten some bruises. The worst was a concussion, alright?” She smiled brightly, though it lacked its usual sincerity. “But I’m fine!”

“Why didn’t you ask for help?” Dalton asked.

“I just did,” Skyla pointed out.

He put his hand on his hip. “No. I volunteered, and you were reluctant to let me do anything.”

“I didn’t want to burden you, plus I didn’t want you to get hurt!” Skyla cried.

Dalton paused. They were both getting worked up and were essentially talking in circles. Instead, he reached out and cupped her cheek. “I feel the same way,” he said in a low tone, though she could probably hear it was a little forced. “Of the two of us, I’m less likely to get hurt, so please…ask for help, okay?”

Skyla huffed and folded her arms over her chest, but her indignation only lasted a minute. Sighing, she dropped her stance. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’ll ask for help. I’m…” She tucked some hair behind her ear. “I’m not really used to having someone to call on.”

Dalton nodded. “I get that. We’ll work on it together.” He let go of her and tilted his head toward the tree. “Where does this go?”

“Am I allowed to help you move it?” she asked with a smile that took the edge off her sarcasm.

Dalton chuckled. “Only if it means we won’t knock over or break anything in the process.”

“Then we’re in luck.” She pointed to a corner behind him. “It goes over there, and me carrying the bottom will absolutely help.”

“Then help on.” Together they lifted the tree, which felt about a hundred pounds lighter now that Dalton wasn’t bracing himself in a tiny space, and brought it where she directed.

“Let me grab the stand.” Skyla headed toward the stairs and disappeared up before Dalton could stop her.

“Note to self,” he muttered. “Put a better light up there.” The tiny bulb must have been original to the shop and did little to help a visitor. Its main purpose seemed to be casting odd shadows that looked like serial killers.

Dalton cleared his throat, putting that thought in the box labeled, Never Admit To Anyone.

“Here it is.” Skyla hurried over and set down the stand, then began moving crates and boxes from the corner. “I shouldn’t have had you get the tree until I was already ready,” she muttered.

“I was unannounced,” Dalton said easily. “It’s my fault.”

“I was supposed to have this ready this morning,” Skyla argued. “It’s my fault.” She smiled up at him from where she was crouched moving a box of books. “Or maybe we’ll just call it a draw.”

And just like that, the tension from earlier was gone, and Dalton was grateful he’d stopped by.

He hadn’t been kidding when he said he missed her. Every day that went by, he found it harder and harder to say goodbye at the end of the day. She had a lot on her plate and Dalton wanted to help alleviate it if he could, but he couldn’t bring himself to not come by every night.

Dinner together was great, but it was seeing Skyla that made the time worthwhile.

Another thought occurred to him. “Are you going to be decorating after you close down tonight?” he asked.

Skyla shrugged, still down on the floor. “Probably. It depends on how busy I am during the afternoon.” She smiled at him. “Don’t worry. I’ll still figure out what we’re going to eat.”

“No way.” Dalton shook his head and used his tree-free hand to grab his phone. “It’s my night,” he told her.

Skyla frowned. “What?”

“My night to take care of you,” Dalton reiterated. “I’ll come by after I’m done and bring dinner. You can use me as your muscle to help finish the decorating. Sound good?” He shot off a text to Analiese about the change in plans.

“But Grandpa?—”

“Liese will eat with John.”

Skyla stood and sighed. “Can I at least pay you for your time? I feel bad using you as muscle and not giving you any compensation.”

Dalton leaned forward and tapped his cheek.

Skyla laughed softly. “You want to be paid in kisses?”

“Can you think of anything better?” he asked, smiling when she stepped up to do what he asked. There was no choice but to turn his head and meet her head on. A cheek kiss just wasn’t going to do it. Naturally.

After a minute, Skyla pulled back just a couple of inches, her green eyes roving all over his face. “No,” she agreed. “I can’t think of anything better.”