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Chapter Sixteen
When Wade pulled up to the antique store and dropped her off, Marina gasped. “What in the world?” she whispered, as she unlocked the door and walked inside.
Five large wooden shipping crates were stacked in front of the customer service desk. Halting in her tracks, Marina stared, overwhelmed. There was so much here! After spending extra time with Wade, it had slipped her mind that the Great Britain order had arrived.
She was already a bit weary after the long morning with Mrs. Sutton and the cataloging she and Wade had already done. There was so much to do, it was overwhelming.
Marina sagged against the counter. “I think I need another beignet—with twice the sugar this time!”
“I’ll run get you one, if it will help,” Wade offered with a grin.
“No! I’ll be sick to my stomach. Two were plenty, so keep your sugary thoughts to yourself, Mr. Kennedy.”
He laughed and gave her a one-arm hug of encouragement.
Marina hadn’t anticipated the friendly overture, but the feel of Wade’s muscled arm around her shoulders and his strongchest so close to hers made her knees go weak. She gripped the front desk and tried to act nonchalant.
His aftershave was a musky citrus scent and he just smelled clean and fresh all over. Even his plaid work shirt was freshly laundered, and his jeans hugged his slim hips in a way that made her want to hide her eyes so she wouldn’t keep staring.
The man was such a hunk she melted into a puddle of butter whenever she saw him.
“Shall we get to work?” Wade suggested.
“Wait—what?” Marina jerked her chin as if she’d been caught staring. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ll help you unpack. This looks like . . . a lot.”
“You got that right. But I’m sure you have tons of work to do at your own place of business.”
He shook his head and shrugged. “With both of us working, it’ll go fast. But first, where do you want it all?”
“I have a storeroom in the back through that door. Some of these things will go on display right away. The small tables, the vases, the candlesticks. There’s supposed to be some nineteenth century jewelry, too, and I have a case over there for that.”
“I’ll let you do the jewelry and small items while I lug the big stuff, so you don’t have to break your back.”
“I’ll have you know that I’m pretty tough, Mr. Kennedy. See these muscles? I don’t need to go to a gym, I work out right here every day.”
“I see,” he said, lifting his lips into a quirky grin. “You’re tough, Marina, and I admire you for getting into the antique business. For helping your grandmother with her shop and then taking over and keeping it running.”
She shrugged. “What else was I going to do with an Art History degree?”
“The perfect job for the most perfectly quirky girl I’ve ever known.”
Marina stuck a hand on her hip, eyeing him. “Was that a backhanded compliment?”
“Nope, it was the best compliment I could give you.” Wade suddenly moved forward and brushed a finger along her cheek. Before it even registered, he stepped back again, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “Leftover powdered sugar.”
“Oh! Thanks! Guess I’d better clean up before customers come.”
“Leave the Closed sign in the window. We’ll get this place organized and then you can clean up before you open.”
“I suppose I don’t have customers banging at my door yet.”
“Got a crowbar for these crates?” Wade asked next.
“In the back room, I’ll get it.”
She hurried to the rear of the store and washed the sugar off her face, although she secretly wished she could leave it so that Wade would feel the need to touch her face again.
