His Small-Town Family. Lorraine Beatty
Debi gave her a skeptical frown before turning to leave. “Call me if you need me.”
Nicki dealt with the customer, then reached for her cell phone to check on Sadie. She missed her so much. It was the first time she’d let her mother babysit, and that was only because she needed time alone to examine the store’s accounting files.
As she did, her heart sank. If she didn’t find a way to increase business soon, her parents would be ruined. They were counting on her. What she needed was a full-time employee, someone she could depend on. She’d placed a Help Wanted sign in the front window three days ago, but no one had even inquired. Strange, considering the bad economy. Surely someone needed a job. As soon as the store was closed, she’d draft an ad for the Dover Dispatch.
An hour later, the bell over the front door of Latimer’s jingled again. Nicki glanced at the clock in her small office in the back of the building. There was still an entire afternoon to get through before she could close up and go home to Sadie. Weariness threatened to drag her down. She closed her eyes and sent up a prayer for strength. Not that God would hear her feeble plea. He’d stopped listening to her years ago when she’d turned her back on Him and stepped into a nightmare.
Walking out onto the sales floor, she put on a smile for the incoming customer. Her gaze landed on a tall, dark-haired man standing inside the door. She didn’t recognize him. In a town the size of Dover, strangers stood out, and this man wasn’t likely to be overlooked. With his broad shoulders, the dark stubble shadowing his angular face and his piercing dark eyes, he looked hard—dangerous, even. His dark chocolate hair lay in appealingly tousled waves, making his deep-set, black-coffee eyes even more noticeable. Those eyes narrowed slightly. He’d noticed her staring. She forced her gaze from his and to the object he held in his hand. Her Help Wanted sign.
“May I help you?”
The man smiled. Sort of. One corner of his mouth moved, which brought a faint light into his eyes. A small scar below his left cheek added intrigue.
He held up the sign. “Is the position still available?”
“Yes, it is. Are you interested?”
He handed her the sign. “Possibly. I’d like to know a little about the job.” His intense gaze skimmed her length before looking her in the eyes again.
A rush of warmth filled her cheeks when she saw a glint of appreciation in his brown eyes. Mentally, she shook herself for such a ridiculous thought. She must be more tired than she realized. She swallowed and cleared her throat. “Stock work, to begin with. I’m going to be reworking the entire layout of the store, so there will also be a lot of physical labor.”
A quick inventory of his well-developed chest, the muscles straining the sleeves of his shirt and the strong thighs encased in faded jeans confirmed he was more than capable of moving the displays. The man had slipped his hands into his front pockets, with his head slightly tilted, his dark eyes narrowed. She realized with a jolt that she was assessing him as he had her earlier. “Um, then if it works out, I’ll need someone to work the sales floor.”
The man nodded. “Sounds good.”
“Are you looking for full time or part time, Mr....?”
“Stone. Ethan Stone. Either, but full time would be preferred.” The corner of his mouth moved again, distracting her and revealing a deep crease in his cheek and tiny crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
“Do you have any retail experience?”
“I paid my way through school working at a big-box store. I did time in nearly every department.”
A man who worked his way through school showed determination, but something about him didn’t seem right. While he looked scruffy and hard, his words and his posture were that of an educated man. Not some down-on-his-luck drifter looking for a minimum-wage job. Too many years with her deceitful late husband raised her defenses. Why would an educated man want a job as a stock boy? She crossed her arms over her chest. “I have a feeling you’re seriously overqualified for the job, Mr. Stone.”
He raised his eyebrows, his dark eyes questioning. “Can anyone be overqualified for honest work?”
The glint she’d seen in his eyes was now a full-blown twinkle. Was he baiting her or manipulating her? She raised her chin. “You’re not from around here.”
“No, ma’am. I got into town yesterday afternoon.”
His deep voice rolled along her nerves. “Where are you from?”
He shrugged and lifted the corner of his mouth a bit more. “Here and there.”
“Where have you worked before?”
“Several places. Mainly out of the country.”
He wasn’t giving her much incentive to hire him. She opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t think he would be a good fit for the job, but before she could speak, he took a step forward. She tensed, then relaxed when she saw his eyes soften, and the crooked grin lifted on the other side.
“If you need a reference, you can call Jim Barrett.”
“Pastor Jim at Peace Community Church? You know him?” This changed everything. Jim wouldn’t recommend any old vagrant.
Stone nodded, pulling his hands from his pockets and resting them on his lean hips. “I’m good friends with his brother Paul. We...worked together.”
“Oh. I see.” She tried to find a reason to turn him down, but she was desperate and needed someone who could start immediately. The doorbell sounded again as several customers entered, triggering the urgency that gnawed in her chest every hour. She couldn’t leave Dover until the store was in the black, and if she was going to save the store, she had to have help. “How soon can you start?”
He glanced over his shoulder as the door chimed again. “Now.”
Moving behind the checkout counter, she pulled a sheet of paper from the shelf, then lifted a pen from the small container beside the register and handed both items to him across the counter. “Fill out this application, please. You can sit at one of the desks over there. When you’re finished, we’ll discuss your hours and pay.”
“Will do.” With a nod, he turned and strode toward the display of office furniture in the far corner of the sales floor.
Nicki watched him with an uneasy sensation in her chest. He walked like a man confident in his abilities. A man who could handle himself in any situation. A soldier, perhaps. But even that idea didn’t fit. He didn’t have the high-and-tight haircut or the ramrod posture she’d seen in her marine brother. Something was off. She just couldn’t figure out what it was.
Remembering she had customers in the store, she shoved the thoughts aside. She was being overly sensitive. She couldn’t paint every man she met with the same brush as her late husband, Brad. Just because a man was reserved and private didn’t mean he had something to hide.
She glanced at the man again. Despite her misgivings, there was something trustworthy about him. History had taught her to be cautious, but she had to start trusting her instincts again. Please, Lord, let this be the right decision, because I’ll need his help and Yours to save the store.
* * *
Ethan wrote his name on the line, trying to remember the last time he’d filled out an employment application. He’d worked for TNZ News Network since graduating college. But that job had ended ten months ago. His years embedded with the troops as a conflict photographer had resulted in capturing one too many horrific images with his camera. The doctors had called it cumulative stress disorder. He called it an emotional meltdown.
Ethan blinked away the visions lurking in the back of his mind and wrote down Jim Barrett’s name as a reference. Jim’s brother Paul had been the lifeline Ethan needed after he’d returned from his last assignment in Afghanistan. He’d been wounded and emotionally traumatized, and the military shrinks