Page 24 of Laced With Secrets
“Nothing, aside from the fact that I don’t understand why the shop needsmoregarland when Christmas has passed.” But his silver eyes were dancing as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed, looking unfairly attractive in his dark blue henley and jeans. This was Dominic in casual mode—no suit, no corporate armor, just my alpha spending a lazy Saturday helping me decorate my shop.
“I told you, it is District tradition to add more decorations for the new year.” I turned my back to him so I could survey my garland.
He released a long-suffering sigh, making a dismissive ‘carry on’ gesture. “Very well. Continue improving my apparently substandard garland work.”
I spent the next few minutes carefully rearranging the evergreen sprigs until the visual weight felt balanced, very aware of my mate watching my every move. When I finally stepped back, satisfied, he was smiling.
“Better?” he asked.
“Much better.” I moved to the shoe display I’d spent an hour organizing that morning—boots arranged by leather warmth tone, creating a gradient from deep burgundy to rich brown to honeyed tan. One of the boots had been shifted slightly out of place, probably when I’d brushed past it earlier. I adjusted it back into position.
“You rearranged that display already,” Dominic observed. “Twice.”
“I’m making sure it looks right.” I stepped back, checked the alignment, then shifted another boot a fraction of an inch. “First impressions matter. Mrs. Henderson said we’re expecting increased tourist traffic for the centennial celebration.”
“Uh-huh.” Dominic pushed off the counter, moving closer. “And the leather samples?”
I glanced at the sample wall, where I’d reorganized the swatches this morning by color, texture, and alphabetically by tannery. “What about them?”
“You color-coded them. And then arranged them by texture gradient.”
“That’s just efficient organization,” I defended.
“Baby.” His hands found my hips, pulling me back against his chest. “You’re nesting.”
“I am not nesting.” But a blush warmed my skin from throat to ears even as I leaned into him. “I’m decorating for the centennial and making sure the shop looks professional?—”
“You’re preparing our space.” His nose pressed into my neck, breathing deeply. “Making it perfect and safe and beautiful. It’s instinct.” His hands slid to settle on my stomach. “And it’s adorable.”
“It’s embarrassing,” I muttered, but I didn’t pull away. His warmth, his scent, the solid presence of him behind me—it all felt too good.
“It’s natural.” His lips brushed the shell of my ear. “I love watching you do it.”
We stood like that for a long moment, just breathing together, while Christmas music played softly from my vintage heirloom radio and winter sunlight streamed through the front windows.
Then I spotted the wreath I’d hung on the wall behind the register. “That’s off-center.”
Dominic’s laugh rumbled through his chest into my back. “It’s fine.”
“It’s crooked.” I extracted myself from his arms and moved toward it, already mentally measuring the adjustment needed.
“Leo—”
But I was already reaching up, trying to lift the wreath off its hook. It was heavier than I remembered, made from real evergreen boughs wired onto a grapevine base. My fingers caught the wire loop?—
“Let me get that,” Dominic said, suddenly there, reaching over my head to adjust the wreath.
“A little to the right,” I murmured. “There. That’s perfect!”
He moved to stand beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. “Better?”
“Much better.” I nodded. “Now I just need to hang the garland swag above it. The one that goes all the way up to the crown molding.”
“I’ll get the ladder.” Dominic was already heading toward the back room before I could protest.
“I can carry a ladder?—”
“I know you can,” he called back. “But you’re not going to.”