“Well, it is. I got an eyeful when you were tearing apart my work.”
“I—” She cut herself off with a shake of her head. Dammit, she was cute when she was all flustered. “All right. It’s Blackstone’s Department Store.”
He whistled. Blackstone’s was old family money. “Really? And you want me to decorate it?”
“I need Christmas perfection and that seems to be you.”
He laughed. “Now it suits you that I’m a Christmas freak?”
“Yes.”
“Just like that?”
“Look, Ben…can I call you Ben?”
“I think you should at this point.”
“This very unruly and very miserable customer tore through the store with his daughter’s bike and took out half the front of the store’s decorations. Desperate doesn’t cover it.”
Ben’s breath stalled in his chest. That was coincidence. “Daughter’s bike?”
She tucked her hands into her sleeves. “Yes. He lost it. I just can’t get over how upset he was.”
“And you didn’t call the cops?”
“We did, but we don’t have a good image of him on our video surveillance. And in the commotion, I didn’t get a license or ID.”
Ben rubbed his biceps again. Christ. It couldn’t be. “Okay, darlin’. Why don’t you go back to the store. I need to get some supplies and my computer.”
“Why?” She shook her head. “And stop calling me darlin’.”
He smirked at her. It kept slipping off his tongue. “Now that I know it bugs you, I definitely won’t.”
Her eyes flattened and her nostrils flared.
He smiled wider. “You’re kinda gorgeous when you’re mad.”
She made a disgusted snort and turned. “If I wasn’t in such a bind I’d—”
“You’d what?”
She picked up her coat and stuffed her arms into the holes before he could think about holding the jacket for her. “I’d have the lights off the front of the house so freaking fast.”
“Temper, temper, Miss Tucker.”
“I hate Christmas!” She stalked to the door and jerked it open.
“Hey, wait.”
She swung around, a lock of hair falling into her face before she blew it away. He grinned at her and plucked a scarf off his coat rack. “It’s freezing out there.” He wound the simple navy fleece around her neck.
Her eyes widened before she muttered a thank you as she stomped down the stairs. He watched her go. Superior ass didn’t even cover it.
Ben swiped his hand over his jaw. He was well past scruffy and headed for beard. The tattoos and the rough face probably wouldn’t go over well. He climbed the stairs two at a time and started planning as he quickly shaved and showered. He scrubbed a towel over his hair and body, swiping it over the fogged up mirror. His hair was too shaggy. It was all right when he was beardy, but now he looked like a boy band reject.
“Stupid baby face,” he muttered, splashing aftershave on with a hiss. With a grunt, he slapped the towel over the bar and went into his bedroom to pick over his clothes. After five minutes of staring, he grabbed his usual jeans. He was not dressing up for this woman or her store. For fuck’s sake, it was bad enough that he’d shaved.
He dragged a long-sleeved thermal down from his armoire, then tucked it back in. No way was he covering up his tats too. It was going to be hot as hell in the store. He pulled on a black t-shirt and snaked his skull belt through his loops. He wasn’t changing for any damn woman, let alone one that worked for corporate America.