Page 35 of A Cobbled Conspiracy
I stretched up on my toes, teeth grazing along the sharp line of his jaw. The height difference forced me to crane my neck, but I managed to find the sensitive spot where his pulse hammered beneath warm skin. A low rumble vibrated through his chest, the sound sending heat straight through me.
His fingers tangled in my hair, tilting my head back so he could claim my mouth again. We pressed against each other, every line of our bodies aligned despite the awkward angle, until breathing became secondary to this desperate need to touch, to reassure, to claim.
Finally, lungs burning, I pulled back just enough to rest my forehead against his collarbone. “The shop,” I said, trying to regain focus.
“The shop,” he agreed. “But we do this carefully. Security upgrades, additional staff, protocols.”
“Agreed,” I said. “Partners?”
“Partners,” he confirmed, and sealed it with another brief, soft kiss.
For now, I’d take this win. The housing argument could wait another day.
After all, home wasn’t really about the building anyway. Home was wherever Dominic and I were together.
Everything else was just details to be worked out.
CHAPTER TEN
My work table was covered with tools and research—photocopies of the historical images Victor and Adelaide gave me, preliminary sketches I’d made of 1970s men’s dress shoes, and leather samples in various shades spread across the worn wooden surface. Brown and black samples lay scattered across the table, alongside pieces dyed in striking blues and purples—my attempts to recreate the unusual blue-violet shade with brown toe caps that appeared in the vintage photographs.
I held up a piece of rich cordovan leather to the light, testing how it would take the antiquing treatment needed to match the vintage photographs. The silver work for the buckles would be intricate, requiring hand-forging techniques that my grandfather had taught me but I hadn’t used in years. I’d already sketched out three different buckle designs, each a clumsy attempt to capture the geometric pattern of the original.
The brass bell above my door chimed, interrupting my concentration. I looked up expecting to see Penny arriving for our planned lunch, but instead Sarah stood in the doorway,holding two large paper bags from The Hideaway and wearing an expression I couldn’t quite read.
“Sarah?” I set down the magnifying glass I’d been using to examine buckle details. “Is everything okay? I thought you were just sending lunch over with one of your servers.”
“I was,” she said, stepping inside and letting the door swing closed behind her. “But I needed to talk to you. Both of you, actually.” She glanced toward the back of the shop. “Is Penny here yet?”
“He should be any minute,” I said.
Sarah nodded absently, her usual cheerful demeanor replaced by something that looked like worry.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
Before she could answer, the bell chimed again and Penny bounced in, his candy sweet scent bright with its usual optimism. He was practically radiating good energy—clearly recent events had improved his mood as much as mine. Jake followed behind him, moving with his characteristic timidness.
“Please tell me you brought those amazing turkey clubs,” Penny said to Sarah, then paused when he noticed her expression. “What’s wrong?”
“I brought enough for the five of us,” Sarah said, holding up the bags. “Figured Jake would be hungry too after helping rearrange your window display. Mr. Marcus too. Can’t have him standing guard on an empty stomach.”
“I’ll take it to him,” Jake offered. “Or should I ask if he wants to come in and join us?”
“He won’t,” Penny said, taking a bag from Sarah. “Already asked. He waved me off, said he couldn't leave his post."
“But he’ll eat outside, right?” Jake said, accepting the wrapped sandwich and cold soda Sarah held out to him.
As Jake headed toward the door, Sarah turned back to me. “Trust me, you’ll both want to be sitting down for this.”
We settled around my small break table in the back of the shop, the familiar ritual of unwrapping sandwiches and distributing chips providing a moment of normalcy before whatever news Sarah needed to share. The turkey clubs were as good as promised. I devoured half my sandwich before Sarah had even unwrapped hers.
Apparently, my appetite had come back with a vengeance.
“Alright,” Penny said after Jake returned, “spill. What’s going on?”
Sarah set down her sandwich and folded her hands on the table. “Paula came in this morning, really upset. Vertex Acquisitions made her another offer—triple the assessed value of the pharmacy, cash sale, close in thirty days.”
My stomach dropped. “That’s… that’s a lot of money.”