Page 30 of The Seashell of ’Ohana

I should have gotten a stepladder from the back. The legs wobbled when I stepped onto the stool. Something was caught under them, or perhaps it was an uneven surface. My weight shifted, throwing me off balance. My poor judgment would cost me.

The moment held an ominous sense of déjà vu. Ian had stopped my almost-fall at the market, but it wasn’t going to happen again. In that frozen moment, the stool sliding backward, I prepared to make a fool out of myself. Maybe end up with a broken something or other. Instead of crash landing on my face, I ended in a pair of strong arms.

“Whoa. I got ya. You don’t have to fall to get my attention, Abby. You already have it.” Hot breath brushed against the side of my face when he brought me to my feet.

“Ian,” I muttered at the crook of his neck. My lips touched his skin. Every inch of him was pressing against me. My skin flushed so hot, my ears burned.

Oh, God. How this must look. But I’d liked the warmth of him and the tightness of his strong arms around me. How I’d longed for that human touch, to be reminded what it felt like to be held by a man.

I pushed back slowly, afraid to meet his gaze, but there was no escaping the fact that I needed to thank him. Gorgeous brown eyes met mine. I lost my words, consumed by his touch and the way he looked at me. Confused? Longing? I had no idea. But his expression woke something alive in me.

“I-I …”

A chair scraping across the floor came from my left. Our spell broke when someone cleared their throat. As I smoothed out my shirt and ran my fingers through my hair, trying not to look at anyone, Kristina clamped her fingers on Ian’s arm and pried him away.

My sister came running, her chest heaving. “Are you okay?”

I put up a hand, a silent gesture to let her know I was fine. She understood and backed away.

Kristina let out a fake giggle. “Really, Ian. Always rushing to people’s rescue. You should be more careful, Abby. Getting hurt in front of customers is no way to run a business.”

She didn’t raise her voice, but her snarky tone boomed like thunder.

Go walk the plank, wench.

Tyler’s silly pirate talk helped tamp down the rage that had so quickly consumed me that my hands shook. Be nice. She’s a customer. You don’t want her spreading rumors.

Imagining pushing her off the plank, I found my best smile and said, “Stella will ring you up.”

“Of course.” Stella’s serious tone caught my attention. She, too, was standing, her fingers gripping the edge of her desk. “Will that be cash or credit?”

I wanted to hide in the backroom, both to escape my weird mix of feelings and to avoid saying anything I might regret. Ian had called her a client, and I had trouble believing he’d go for someone like her. If they had something more, I hoped he dumped her.

I’d had all types of customers, including demanding ones who wanted custom pieces. When I had been in New York, having to smile through tiny insults from snobby clients was the norm. But it was my gallery, and after what I’d lived through with Steve, my patience for people like her was low. This woman … this woman … she’d riled me up. I wished I could shake her, and I wasn’t the violent type.

“It was nice to meet you, Kristina.” I squared my shoulders and held up my chin. “I’ll be in the back room if anyone needs me.”

My flats gave a slap on the floor, the only sound in the room as I got the hell out of there. When I reached the door, I heard Ian tell Kristina he had to cancel their lunch. I allowed myself a small grin and only felt a tiny bit bad about it.

There was a small knock just as the door closed behind me.

Stella or Kate would have entered without knocking, so it had to be Ian. He must have dashed across the room, to have gotten to me so fast.

Chapter Eleven — Apology

I froze by the door at the first knock. I didn’t want to see Ian. The day had started great. What had happened? When the second knock came, I cringed and opened the door. There was no way to avoid facing him. He knew I was inside. I had announced I would be in the back room, and there wasn’t another exit.

Time to act like an adult, Abby.

Ian barged in and shut the door behind him. His wide eyes locked on mine, full of concern. He reached out to me but let his arms fall back to his sides.

“Abby, I’m so sorry.” He sounded desperate, almost panicky. “I wouldn’t have brought Kristina here if I’d known she’d …” He shook his head. “To be honest, I’m surprised by how she treated you.”

Because I felt guilty for wishing Kristina ill, a part of me had thought he had marched right over to tell me I had done something wrong.

“You don’t need to apologize for her, Ian. She’s your client.”

His features contorted in a scowl as he paced from my easel to my desk, mumbling, “I thought … I can’t believe … why would …”