the city. “It’s white noise to me. In fact, it can be soothing.”
He raised his brows. “Soothing?”
“Yes. Out here the quiet booms in the air. I could hear the waves last night all the way up from the beach.”
“I like the quiet boom. And the waves are much better white noise than, say, screeching metal on metal, sirens, and profanity.”
He had me there. He gave me a second’s grace, but then grinned as if he knew he’d won. “Okay, New York, let’s get this done.”
“You need my help?” I was game. I only hoped it didn’t require power tools, know-how, or artistic skills.
“No. You need mine. Rutter’s Department Store is open late on Fridays. They sell blue jeans. The sooner you’re outfitted, the sooner I can put you to work.”
I had to admit, that sounded reasonable. “Point me in the right direction.”
“I’m coming along. I can help you find everything you need.”
“I don’t need help.” I could only imagine how many more pressing things he must have in his life.
“I fear you do. Tell me about those jeans you have at home. Are they skin-tight a name-brand designer, maybe some glitter on the pockets?”
“No glitter.” They did have a nice applique on the back pocket, but that was just good taste.
“You can’t work properly in tight designer jeans.”
I was tempted to say I couldn’t work properly, period. But he didn’t need to know that yet.
He stepped into the silence. “Some comfortable blue jeans, a stretchy cotton top, and a little arch support, and you’ll feel like a whole new woman.”
I couldn’t resist. “Are you saying there’s something wrong with the old woman?”
“Old?”
“With the existing woman.”
His gaze softened, and he leaned in ever so slightly. “She might be too ambitious for her own good.” His sexy tone took any sting out of the words, and a shiver of awareness ran across my skin.
I half expected him to take my hand; I wanted him to take my hand. I wanted to feel the strength in his long fingers and the calluses on his warm palms.
But he didn’t take my hand. Instead, he pointed. “Rutter’s is right there across the street.”
Chapter Four
Rutter’s Department Store seemed to sell everything imaginable.
I’d never seen a store like it, with random merchandise crammed on overly high shelves and along narrow aisles. Small appliances were next to decorative candles, which were next to swathes of fabric, then tents, then garden rakes and spades alongside gaudy little gnomes. Kites, piñatas, and bicycles all hung from the ceiling above us.
“The clothing section is upstairs,” Josh said as I looked around in amazement.
My favorite stores at home were all focused, focused and organized. If I wanted clothes, I went to Nadine’s or EJB Imports; electronics were at 321-Contact; and, although I’d never been inside, Gardens Galore on West 28th seemed like the place I’d go for trowels and pruners.
My gaze moved from one object to the next, trying to imagine the store’s target shopper. “Wait, is that dynamite?”
Josh glanced around. “Where?”
“Over there. In the glass case. Behind the mini-fridge.”
“I think you need a permit to buy dynamite,” he deadpanned.
“Funny.”
He grinned.
“Third floor, appliances,” I joked back. “Second floor, ladies wear. First floor, explosives.”
“Something for everyone.”
“I’ve never seen a store like this.”
“They don’t have a Rutter’s on Fifth Avenue?”
“Not one that sells dynamite.”
“If you’re not in the market for explosives, we should go up one floor.” He pointed me toward a wide wooden staircase that ran along a side wall in the cavernous building.
I would have liked to look around a bit more to see what other outlandish things were for sale, but we had an objective. So I headed for the stairs.
The railing was painted a smooth white, but the steps themselves were worn down to raw wood. I could only imagine the thousands of pairs of feet climbing up and down over the years to weather the wood like this.
“This place has been here for a while,” I noted as I started up.
“It was rebuilt and expanded in 1915.” Josh followed behind me. “But it’s been open since 1850 and the founding of Rutter’s Point.”
“Let me guess . . . by the Rutters?”
“The very same. Jacob Rutter was the town’s first business owner, and he eventually became the mayor.”
“Do his descendants still run the store?” Part of me marveled at the idea of having such deep roots.
“Some of them do,” Josh said. “He also has descendants all over town doing other things.”
There was something in the way Josh said it, a