Teddy Spenser Isn't Looking for Love - Kim Fielding Page 0,49

vases.”

Romeo didn’t answer right away. He poked at a crab leg, his mouth pursed thoughtfully. “I’d be less likely to fit in somewhere like that.”

“Because...?”

“I grew up poor. My parents worked hard and gave us everything they could, but every month they had to worry whether they could make rent, groceries, and the other bills. And I didn’t attend any fancy private schools. Two years at City College because it was cheap, and then I transferred to U of I.”

Teddy, who’d earned his degree at U of I Springfield, cocked his head. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, there isn’t. But at a big tech company, I’d be with people who’d gone to MIT, Stanford, Cal Tech...” He engaged in further crab dissection. “Anyway, I aspired to more than corporate drone, you know? I didn’t want to be one of a hundred people clacking away at keyboards.”

Baguette still in hand, Teddy leaned forward. “You wanted to be creative and stand out instead of trying to blend in.”

There was that smile again. It made Teddy want to burst into song and dance on the tabletop. He’d never made anyone smile like that before.

Romeo grabbed Teddy’s bread and took a bite. “How about you? Flower fixation?”

“Actually, I’m a little allergic,” Teddy admitted. “But this was such a great opportunity. So much more exciting than arranging store displays and arguing with the owner about whether coupons are effective sales generators. They’re not, by the way—not if you’re going for a high-end vibe.”

Finishing the bread and leaning back in his seat, Romeo fixed Teddy with a piercing look. “What’s your dream job? If you could do anything at all.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Dreams are never stupid, but ignoring them sure is,” Romeo responded smugly.

“That sounds like a quote.”

“My mama’s. So what’s your dream?”

Teddy sought courage in the only form available: the remaining wine. He poured himself a healthy glassful and took a long swallow before speaking. “You know that shop we went to this morning?”

“Of course.”

“I’d love to own a place kind of like that.”

Romeo didn’t scoff. Instead he leaned forward, his attention so complete that Teddy felt it like a caress on his skin. “Tell me more,” Romeo said. “What do you mean by kind of? I want details.”

Teddy downed the rest of his glass, which he knew would be a mistake eventually. That amount of alcohol might have little effect on most adults, but it would lay him out. “I want to spend hours every week scouring thrift stores and estate sales and resale shops for treasures. Not just clothing, but also décor and small pieces of furniture. I want to present my carefully curated collection in a space that’s inviting but not intimidating. I want customers to come in so I can help them put together exactly the right look for themselves or their homes. I’ll mix and match eras and styles to create something that makes them feel unique and beautiful. I don’t want to be Joyce Alexander. I don’t care if I’m featured in magazines, living in a mansion, or riding in a chauffeured Rolls. I just want my pretty, cozy storefront and devoted customers.”

He’d never thought through these wishes so completely—not until now as he said them aloud. But as the words left his lips, there wasn’t a lie among them. He almost expected to find his heart, still beating, lying on the empty oyster platter in front of Romeo.

Romeo reached forward and took Teddy’s hands. “That’s a wonderful dream. You’d be amazing at it. Look what you did for me in just one little shopping excursion!”

Wow. Teddy’s family members loved him, but they’d always shot down his ideas. Gently—but rather thoroughly. Oh honey, retail ownership is hard. Wouldn’t you be better off with the security of a steady paycheck? Or You’d practically work yourself to death for razor-thin profit margins and no retirement plan. But Romeo? He believed in him.

Teddy gently pulled his hands free, picked up his napkin, and pretended he needed to wipe his mouth. It took several moments to steady his voice. “Thanks. It’s not a realistic goal, though.”

“Why not?”

“Money. I have none. Finding a space, building up inventory, advertising...those require initial capital. Right now, there’s not much left over after rent every month. I’ll be a hundred and eighty before I save enough.”

Romeo gave a little nod. “Which is why you’re hoping Reddyflora does well. Stock options and bonuses.”

“Yeah.”

The wine was already going to Teddy’s head. He could feel it curling along the neurons, tickling them, goading