Know Me Well (Wishful 3)

“I’m looking forward to it,” Sharilyn said breezily. “It’ll take me a little while to save up enough for my own place, but as soon as I do, I’ll be out of your hair. I’m not going to be a burden to you.”

Riley didn’t believe that for a minute. As soon as she found another sugar daddy, she’d fall right back into old patterns. Riley forced her lips to curve and prayed it didn’t look like a grimace. “I wish you the best of luck.” Sharilyn was sure as hell going to need it. Riley just hoped she didn’t lose her own mind in the meantime.

~*~

Riley was avoiding him.

Nearly a week had passed since that unexpected kiss, and Liam still hadn’t had a chance to talk to her about it. Her mom was staying at her place, and in light of that, Riley had thrown herself into work like it was the only thing tethering her to sanity. Given her relationship with her mother, maybe it was.

The pharmacy had been covered up, which pleased Liam, since Walgreens was due to open in a week. But it meant they hadn’t had a moment alone. Riley had made absolutely sure of that. Every time he came into the pharmacy, she was on the phone, holed up in the office, or tied up with a customer. Which was part and parcel of running a business. But she wouldn’t even look at him.

She had the wrong idea.

Looking back, perhaps pretending nothing had happened just because her mom had shown up was not the best course of action. But she’d seemed so embarrassed. What else was he supposed to say under those circumstances? Excuse me, Mrs. Gower, I need to shut the door in your face so I can finish kissing your daughter brainless. Yeah, no.

Liam could’ve called or sent flowers or some kind of note, but this was a conversation that needed to be had in person—without starting the kind of courting behavior that would get the entire town buzzing before they’d even sorted out what was what.

But setting Riley straight required some privacy. Since she wasn’t cooperating, he was going to create the opportunity. He’d thought about inviting her up to see the progress on the apartment upstairs, but she wouldn’t leave the pharmacy unless his mom was there to relieve her. With her current streak of luck, the Board of Pharmacy would drop by for an impromptu inspection and dock her for not having a licensed pharmacist on premises for fifteen minutes. She didn’t need that. So it was on to plan B.

Liam reached the pharmacy as Babette Wofford was stepping out.

“Oh Liam! Just the man I was looking for.”

He worked up a smile for the pint-sized spitfire, who owned the local bridal shop. “Afternoon, Mrs. Wofford.”

She beamed at him. “Your mama showed me the renovation you’re doing on the apartment above the pharmacy. It’s just gorgeous.”

That was a stretch. “I’ve only just got the new walls in and the built-ins started. There’s a ways to go yet.” He waited, wondering where this was going.

“I’ve got apartment space above my shop as well, and I want to hire you to renovate it. Norah’s gearing up for a push to really sell downtown living, and having the space all duded up would allow me to bump up the rent a bit.”

Surprise struck him momentarily speechless. Why would she want to hire him as a contractor when there were others in town more qualified? “Well, I certainly appreciate you thinking of me, Mrs. Wofford. It’s one thing for me to do that kind of work for my mother, but I’m not licensed or bonded. That kind of liability is dangerous for you.”

Babette fisted both hands on her hips. “Nonsense. I saw that apartment. Your work is quality. I’m not at all worried that anything

would go wrong.”

Some people were way too trusting. If she had that kind of attitude toward renovations, she was in prime position to be taken advantage of.

As he geared up for a polite way to tell her exactly that, she interrupted, “Tell me you’ll come by and at least look at the place to give me an estimate.”

He could do that much, at least. And his quote would give her a yardstick to judge other offers for fairness. “All right I’ll have a look.”

Babette clapped her hands together with glee. “Excellent.”

They made arrangements for a time and chatted briefly about Babette’s grandchildren—her eldest granddaughter Delilah was doing something big with fashion in Paris—before Liam finally managed to break loose to slip inside without attracting Riley’s attention.

She moved behind the counter, hands quick and competent as they sorted and filled and dropped the pill bottle into a white paper bag and folded the top neatly over. “Here you go, Mr. Tolleson. You don’t owe a thing. It’s all on your insurance now that you’ve met your deductible.” She passed him the bag and leaned forward conspiratorially. “And I snuck in a handful of those butterscotch disks Winnie likes.”

Howard Tolleson’s wrinkles swallowed up his faded blue eyes as he shot a mostly toothless grin at Riley. She grinned back, and Liam reflected how well-suited she was to this job. She had a way of radiating genuine compassion with even the most agitated or irritating customers, and he thought that had as much to do with people’s healing as the medications she dispensed. It was so different from his mother’s no nonsense pragmatism, yet no less effective. People loved and trusted her.

Howard lifted a plastic shopping bag onto the counter. “Winnie sent you this as a thank you for keeping up with us.”

“Oh now, she didn’t have to do that,” Riley said. “I’m happy to help. You two are some of my favorite customers.”

“Still. She wanted you to have it.”

Riley slipped some kind of fabric out of the bag and her cheerful expression shifted to stunned delight. “Oh. Oh, this is exquisite!” She slipped off her lab coat and slipped on the fabric, which turned out to be some kind of cardigan deal that hit below her hips. “This must’ve taken her ages to knit.”