Page 15 of Bidding on the Orc Outcast (Sweet Monster Treats)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

P osy rearranged the display of Varek’s candles for the third time that morning. The scents of lavender and pine drifted up, reminding her of his greenhouse. Was he there now, hiding away from the world? Or was he thinking about what she’d said? She’d meant what she told him about making up his mind if he wanted to be with her or not, but perhaps it wasn’t fair to expect him to overcome ten years of isolation so quickly.

The bell above the door chimed and she forced herself to focus on her customer. But as she wrapped vintage scarves and helped someone find the perfect second hand coffee table, her mind kept drifting back to the hunger in those amber eyes and the gentleness in those big hands.

“These smell amazing.” A customer held up one of the candles. “Where did you get them?”

“They’re made locally, actually.” Her chest tightened. “By someone who grows his own herbs.”

The woman bought three, and she wrapped them carefully, wondering if she should tell Varek how well they were selling. But he’d made it clear he wanted space, even if his kisses told a different story.

She glanced at her phone. No messages. Not that she expected any - he seemed like the type who’d rather trek through thorny bushes than send a text. Still, she kept hoping he’d decide to let her in.

She was rushed off her feet all morning and it wasn’t until after lunch that she had a moment to think. Sun slanted through her windows, catching the crystal wind chimes and sending rainbow patterns dancing across the floor. A pair of vintage brass candlesticks caught her eye, and she picked one up, studying its graceful curves.

Maybe she should suggest that he make tapers as well. And maybe she was being too hasty in giving up. After all, she’d come to Fairhaven Falls for a second chance herself.

She set down the candlestick as the shop door opened, letting in a blast of cold air. A woman slipped inside, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her coat was a lightweight denim jacket that belonged in spring, not the depths of winter. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her cheekbones stood sharp against pale skin. She would have been very pretty if she didn’t look so haunted.

The woman’s gaze swept the shop before landing on a rack of vintage dresses. Her fingers brushed over a 1950s cocktail dress in emerald silk.

“That’s a beautiful piece,” she said as she joined her. “Original buttons too.”

“The construction is amazing.” The woman lifted the sleeve, examining the French seams. “Look at this hand-stitched hem. You don’t see this kind of quality anymore.”

“You know your fashion.”

“I used to work in costume design.” The woman moved to a display of wool coats, her hands lingering on a camel hair beauty from the 1960s. “This is mohair blend, isn’t it? The nap is perfect.”

She nodded, impressed. Most customers couldn’t tell the difference between wool and synthetic, let alone identify specific fibers. The woman’s knowledge contrasted sharply with her worn jeans and thin jacket. She kept one arm crossed over her middle, as if holding herself together.

“Would you like to try anything on?” Posy gestured to the fitting room. “That green dress would look lovely with your coloring.”

The woman shook her head, quickly stepping back from the clothes.

“I-I’m just looking.” Her voice wavered slightly. “Everything’s gorgeous though. You have amazing taste.”

She watched as the woman moved to a basket of scarves, her fingers tracing the edge of a silk scarf, precise and gentle despite her trembling hands. There was something about the woman’s demeanor that tugged at her heart - a familiar mix of hope and desperation she recognized from her own days after the divorce.

The woman cleared her throat.

“I don’t suppose you’re… looking for help?” Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “I know I don’t have retail experience, but I learn fast and-”

“Actually, I could use someone.” The words came out before she had fully processed them, but they felt right. The shop had been getting busier, and she’d been thinking about hiring help. “Especially someone who knows vintage clothing.”

“Really?” The woman’s eyes widened hopefully.

“We could start with a two-week trial period.” She moved behind the counter and pulled out one of the application forms she’d printed out. “See if it’s a good fit for both of us.”

The transformation in the woman’s face was immediate - like sunshine breaking through storm clouds. Her smile lit up her whole face, erasing the shadows of exhaustion.

“I’m Nina.” She stepped forward, extending her hand. “And I promise you won’t regret this.”

“When would you like to start?”

“Would today be too soon?”

“Not at all.” She handed Nina the application. “You can fill this out after I show you around.”

Nina clutched the paper to her chest like a lifeline. “Yes, please.”

Posy walked her through the shop’s layout - the vintage clothing section organized by decade and the racks of less valuable clothing, the corner with antique furniture and the section with old books and magazines. Nina listened intently, asking intelligent questions and nodding thoughtfully as she explained the pricing system.

After the tour, Nina perched on a stool at the counter and filled out her application, hesitating at each question. When she was finished, Posy took the completed application and scanned it. The answers were minimal at best.

“It says here that you’re new to Fairhaven Falls,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Where did you move from?”

“Atlanta.” Nina’s smile faltered. “It’s a long story.”

“Those are usually the most interesting.” She kept her gaze on the application, not wanting to spook Nina by staring at her. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, of course. But if you ever need someone to listen…”

Nina chewed her lip, then gave her a weak smile. “It’s kind of a lot. Maybe another time? I’d rather focus on the future.”

“A second chance,” she said softly, then reached across the counter and squeezed Nina’s hand. “Well, I’m glad you ended up here. It’s a good place to start over.”

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Nina proved to be a natural. Her knowledge of fashion history helped three different customers find exactly what they were looking for. She handled the register like she’d been doing it for years, and even reorganized a rack of 1950s dresses by color and style.

But there was something in the way Nina flinched when the door chimed. How her shoulders tensed whenever someone walked too close. The way her eyes darted to the exits. Why was she so wary?

Nina also quickly deflected any personal questions. When a customer asked where she was from, she smoothly redirected the conversation to the beaded purse the woman was holding.

The sun was setting when Nina finished reorganizing the jewelry case. Her hands were steady but dark circles rimmed her eyes.

“You’ve done amazing work today.” She counted out a week’s worth of wages from the register. “Here - consider it an advance. You’ve more than proven yourself.”

Nina stared at the money. “I can’t-”

“You can and you will.” She locked the register with a decisive click

Nina reached for the money with trembling hands. “Thank you. What time should I come in tomorrow?”

“Eight thirty.” She hesitated, then added, “And we’ll have breakfast. I always pick up extra pastries from the bakery across the street.

A flash of relief crossed Nina’s face before she schooled her features back to neutral. “That’s very kind of you.”

She hesitated, then asked gently, “Do you have a place to stay?”

She didn’t want to embarrass the other woman but she hadn’t recognized the address on the application. Nina flashed her a quick smile. The smile transformed her features, revealing the beauty beneath the exhaustion and wariness.

“I’m staying with a… friend,” she said quickly. “I’ll be fine.”

She wanted to press for more details but decided against it. Whatever Nina was hiding, it was clearly painful. She couldn’t force her to share her story, even if she wanted to protect her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

After Nina left, she climbed the narrow stairs to her apartment but tonight her cozy home felt silent and empty. She lit some candles and turned on her favorite playlist, but nothing dispelled the hollow feeling that had settled in her chest.

She wandered into the kitchen, touching the scorched spot on the door of the stove from her failed dinner with Varek. The bouquet of wildflowers he’d brought sat in a mason jar on her counter, dried but still fragrant.

Her vintage dishes were stacked neatly in the cupboard, unused since that night. She’d planned to cook for him again, maybe actually succeed this time. Now it didn’t seem like she’d ever get a chance.

She sighed and collapsed onto her couch, hugging a throw pillow to her chest. The apartment felt too empty tonight. Even the sounds of Main Street below seemed muffled and far away. Varek’s presence had filled the room, made it feel warmer, more alive.

She pulled out her phone, finger hovering over his number. Flora had programmed it in “just in case” although she’d warned her that he usually kept it off. And even if he answered, what would she say?

I miss you.

That was the truth. She missed him. Not just the fire in his kisses, but the attentive way he listened to her, the careful way he tended his plants, the gruff exterior that hid a kind heart.

But he’d pushed her away. Again. She’d told him to make up his mind if he wanted to be with her, and apparently he’d made his choice.

A tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away angrily. She’d fought hard to build a new life for herself in Fairhaven Falls and she wouldn’t let him take that from her. She tossed her phone onto the table.

A knock echoed through the apartment.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she told herself sternly that it was probably Nina returning for something she’d forgotten.

But when she opened the door, Varek was standing awkwardly outside.

“I-” He looked down at his hands. “Flora said I was being an idiot.”

“Was she right?”

“She usually is.”

“Then I suppose you’d better come in.” She reached for his hand, his skin warm despite the winter chill clinging to him. “Come inside.”

He hesitated, his fingers tightening around hers. “People will talk.”

“Let them.” She tugged him forward. “I don’t care what they say.”