catch Wilfred’s attention. “Can we just put a sold sign on all of this and shut down shop?”
Wilfred grinned proudly. “She’s good, huh?”
“Very,” Burke said.
“She’s already got one set aside for you,” the man said with a nod. He shot a look at Justine. “Oh, was I not supposed to tell?”
Justine’s face flushed pink. “No, it’s okay. It’s nothing big, I just…thought you’d like this one back here.”
Burke’s pulse rushed as he followed her toward a spot at the back of the booth. A tall, rather masculine piece stood there, the deep blue finish looking more like marble or stone than wood. He spotted a barely visible black speaker beneath the grated cover, and realized just what it was. “This is a record player?”
She nodded and grinned.
“No way. This is…” He turned his gaze back to the piece, running his hand along the top. The rack on the side would display a few of his favorite albums. Special ones that reminded him of Mom. And the player itself, that would forever remind him of Justine. He’d get to take a piece of her with him.
The thought was bittersweet. He didn’t want just a part of Justine. He wanted all of her.
“You like it?” she asked softly.
Burke spun around, wanting to kiss her smack on the lips. “I love it, Justine. Thank you.” He pulled her in for a hug instead. A long, warm, and meaningful embrace, hoping she’d sense his appreciation for the gift.
“Well…” she said with a sigh. “Let’s eat this bread. I can’t wait for you to try those jams.”
“Just a second,” Burke said through a grin. He buried his face in the blonde locks of her hair, loving the soft and wild flow of it, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He inhaled her strawberry scent before letting his arms go limp and stepping back. “Okay,” he agreed. “Let’s break bread.”
Justine looked at him incredulously for a moment before tugging on his arm. She led him past the main covered awning and onto a grassy area, leaves swishing and crunching beneath their shoes. “Since it’s fairly early, we’ve got our choice,” Justine said. “These get pretty crowded around dinner time.”
“Then I guess it’s good that we’re snacking now. We can eat later than the others and have a little privacy.” He wondered if he shouldn’t say things like that. After all, they were supposed to be convincing everyone else they were in love. But what Burke was hoping is that Justine would see for herself that a businessman like him wasn’t completely unloveable.
She nodded to one of the shaded picnic tables. “Let’s sit at that one.”
“Perfect.” Though already his mind was wandering back to the record player. “I have to say,” he said, his hand at her lower back as she climbed onto the seat. Burke settled in beside her and rested the sack on the table. “Your work is stunning. You could sell that anywhere.”
“Thank you,” she said in that modest tone of hers.
“I’m serious. Have you ever considered putting your work for sale online?”
Justine slid the bread carefully from the sack, her arm nudging against his as she removed the jars and then the butter.
“I don’t think anyone would pay for the kind of shipping it’d take to get it to them,” she said. “People have a hard enough time paying the eight dollar delivery fee Frank charges to deliver them. In most cases, it would cost more to ship them than they’re worth.”
“Then charge more for the pieces themselves. I would pay it. With rare furniture like that, money’s not an issue.”
“Yeah, but you’re in the minority,” she countered. “The only people who say money isn’t an issue are people who have a ton of it. And don’t you think that the people within that group will be more interested in name brands or prestigious claims on their purchases?”
Burke leaned away enough to better read her expression. It was the first hint of angst he’d detected toward wealthy people. “Prestigious claims?” he repeated.
Justine kept her focus on the task at hand, which was, at the moment, untying the small twist tie cinching the bread bag closed. “Yeah, like, oh, look at me, I just got King James old grandfather clock. Or, I dropped a couple mil on this da Vinci painting. Think I’ll hang it in my foyer.”
The fresh baked bread was precut into thick slices within the clear bag. She stared at it for a moment as that little