Thankful for You (2 page)

Bluebell cooed at Sig and butted his head against the bars of his cage. Sig reached across the desk with one long finger and rubbed the dark blue head. Elsie sighed. Bluebell was out of reach for
most
customers. Sig was an exception to the rule, standing well over six feet. His dark hair was still cut military short, exposing several red lines on his scalp, below his baseball cap. Despite his scarring, he was still handsome, and his big brown eyes were the kindest eyes Elsie had ever seen. He watched her with both, even though the left one was artificial. He’d been coming in for six or seven months now, and it was good to see the pain slowly easing from his expression, while his quirky smile appeared more often.

“Keep it up and you’ll lose a finger.” Elsie had told Sig over and over that Bluebell was a menace, but he didn’t seem worried.

Instead, he grinned and lifted his left hand. The little finger was completely missing along with nearly half of his ring finger. “I’ve already got that covered.”

Tears clogged Elsie’s throat. “Geez. I’m an idiot. I’m sorry, Sig.” Would she ever learn to keep her mouth shut? The idea of the pain he’d been through made her stomach hurt. “You’re sure you don’t want to take him home? You seem to be the only person he remotely tolerates.”

Sig gave a sheepish grin, looking for all the world like a little boy caught raiding the cookie jar. “Nah. It’s too noisy around my place with all the renovations. I’m surprised even the fish tolerate it sometimes.”

That’s right. He’d bought his mother’s home when she’d moved into a condo, and now he was updating it to modern standards. “Well, once your renovations are done, he’s yours free of charge, if you want him.” There was no one else she’d have made that kind of offer to, but the bereaved bird and the scarred soldier seemed to have developed some kind of intangible bond. Elsie figured they’d both be better off together. “I think you come in every week to see Bluebell as much as to buy fish food.”

“I come in to see….” His deep brown eyes widened and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Umm, sure. Bluebell. So those are the clownfish?” He strode over to where she stood, the bag of fish food hanging from her fingertips. “Cute little guys. You’re sure they’ll work in the same conditions as the rest of my tank?”

“Well, yeah. That’s why I recommended them.” Elsie drew a deep breath and stepped away from Sig and the aura of potent masculinity that surrounded him. “I’ll get some baggies and a net. What else do you need today?”

He blinked rapidly and took a deep breath. “A favor.” His throat worked.

Elsie tipped her head. “What kind?” Once upon a time, she’d have agreed without a thought. She wasn’t that naïve girl anymore. Sig, with his teasing invitations, was the first guy to make her regret that. Heck, he’d probably run the other way if she ever said yes.

“It’s…. You see….” He ran his hand over the scars at his temple, a nervous gesture she’d noticed before. “Oh, hell. Next Tuesday—it’s Veteran’s Day, you know?”

Elsie nodded. “Last time I checked.”

“Well, you’ve been here long enough to figure out that Haven makes kind of a big deal out of it.”

She nodded again. She’d seen the parade.

“The thing is, the mayor….” He rubbed his face again. “He’s dead set on having me as grand poobah of the parade.”

Elsie chuckled. “You mean grand master?”

“Yeah.” Sig snorted. Then the words seemed to pour out of his mouth so fast she could barely keep up. “Whatever. And there’s this dinner, afterward, a fundraiser. I don’t want to go—I mean who wants to look at me on the stage—but I have to. It’s for the widows and orphans fund. And I need a date. Looking like I do is bad enough. Going alone is sort of, well, lame.”

“Ah.” Elsie put two and two together. Her heartbeat accelerated. “And for some crazy reason, you want me to be that date.”

“Yes.” He heaved a huge sigh. “Exactly. I know it’s on a Tuesday, but I was hoping you could get someone to cover the shop during the parade. Will you?”

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then looked at his toes. “Sig, I tell you every week that I don’t date. It isn’t you, honestly. It’s just that…I don’t think I can do it.”

He held out a hand, palm up, and waited until she tentatively took it. “Look, Elsie, this isn’t a ploy to get you to go out with me. I promise. I’m not expecting anything here. I’m bright enough to recognize a fellow survivor when I see one. Your scars may not be on the outside, but they’re there all the same. I figured that out the first time we met. This doesn’t have to be a real date. I desperately want someone sitting next to me at that head table and I have no idea who else to ask.”

Elsie caught her breath and looked into his eyes. How had he seen that far into her soul? She’d always assumed her happy-go-lucky mask was impenetrable. She tried another tack. “Sig, there have to be plenty of women in town happy to go out with you. You’re the town hero, for goodness’ sake.”

“Exactly.” He quirked one corner of his lip. “Yeah, there are a few women, even here in Haven, who want to see what it’s like to screw the freak. Been there. Done that. Not wearing the T-shirt.”

“That isn’t what I meant.” Fury welled in her throat at the heartless witches who would use such a lovely man. “I meant that you’re a great guy. Surely there are some women out there who see that, regardless of the scars.”

Sig shrugged. “If there are, I haven’t found them. Honestly, after the first few months I was home, I quit trying. Most of my friends from high school have left town or are already married. The ones left—well, I don’t want to go there. My mom’s on a cruise with her boyfriend and my sister’s baby is due any minute. So I figured I might ask a friend to sit beside me and boost my confidence. I do think of you as a friend, you know. I don’t have so many of those anymore.” He gave her a sad smile. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to make you do something you’re not comfortable with, and I’m not going hold it against you, Elsie. My cowardice isn’t your problem.”

She stood there, still clutching the bag of fish food in one hand and his in the other. “I’ll go.” She’d blurted out the words before her brain had even registered them. She paused, testing the idea, then decided it would be all right. Drawing in a deep breath, she nodded. “As a friend, I mean. Not as a real date, or anything.”

“No, no, I totally respect that.” His dark eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Thank you so much. Will you come to the parade, too, or just the dinner?”

Elsie took a deep breath. “In for a penny, in for a pound. At least that’s what my Scottish grandmother used to say. I have Andrea coming in Tuesday afternoon anyway. She can handle the place on her own for a few hours.” She pulled her hand away from his and scuffed the toe of her tennis shoe on the ceramic tile floor. “You realize this means people will think we’re actually dating.”

“Huh.” Sig crossed his arms over his chest, making his black leather jacket stretch around the muscles of his arms. Elsie had to force herself not to drool. “I guess I hadn’t thought about that. No worries. I’m a big boy. I can suck it up and go alone—or maybe get one of my cousins from Grand Rapids.”

“No.” She set her jaw. “I said I’d go, and I will, as long as you don’t mind the gossip. It will actually make my life easier if people think there’s something between us. You’re not the only one who asks me out. You’re the nicest, though. But if they think I’m with you, maybe the others will back off.” Neither of her two so-called admirers would have the guts to take Sig on. This could be a real boon if they could pull it off.

His face hardened. “Has someone been bothering you? Who?”

“Nobody. Nothing serious.” Her heart skipped a beat at the idea of him defending her. “I think they see the poor lonely pet shop girl as an easy mark. There’s no one who’s stepped out of line.”

“If anyone does, you tell me.” He winked. “Especially if the town thinks you’re my girlfriend.”

Elsie grinned like a giddy sixteen year old asked to the prom. “You got it. Now how formal is this dinner thing? And how many of the clownfish do you want?”

“All of them,” he said, nodding at the tank. His eyebrows furrowed. “And how the hell am I supposed to know? All I have to do is wear my uniform.”

The following Tuesday, Elsie stood in front of the sales counter looking at her part-time assistant, a young woman working her way through the local community college.

“You’re sure you’ll be all right here by yourself?” Elsie twirled a strand of her hair, fighting not to chew off the red polish she’d applied to her fingernails to match her blouse. “I can cancel if you need me.”

Andrea Rossiter laughed, making the stud in her tongue sparkle and her purple hair fly about her shoulders. “Go. Have a good time. I’ll be fine. Nobody will be in anyway—the whole town will be at the parade.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Elsie looked down at her plain navy suit, one of the few remnants of her accounting days. She’d had to run out the night before and buy pantyhose. At least the weather was warm for November. She wouldn’t be freezing to death in the grandstand. “Everyone is going to think we’re a couple.”

“Are you?” Andrea smirked. “If not, you should think about it. I’ve seen the way you look at him when he comes in. It’s like you want to eat him with a spoon. And he watches your ass like it had a blinking neon sign on it. I’ve even caught him adjusting himself when you bend over bottom-shelf tanks to scoop a fish out.”

Elsie stared at the younger woman in shock. “My ass is huge. Why would he stare at that?” Her boobs weren’t much to speak of, but genetics had compensated for the oversight by giving her extra in the hips and butt department. Her ex-husband had reminded her on a daily basis, but no amount of obsessive exercise or diet could make it go away. Since coming here, she’d quit worrying about it—until today.

Andrea shrugged. “That’s how it is. Some guys are breast men, others like legs. Seems like your guy is into curvy rear ends. I say run with it. You haven’t gotten laid in the year I’ve been working for you. I get the feeling he hasn’t gotten much action either, given how self-conscious he is. Might do you both a world of good.”

Elsie shook her head. “I do not need a pity fuck, thank you very much.”

The bell above the door tinkled as Sig walked in. Elsie’s face flamed. The phrase “pity fuck” rang in her ears. Thank heavens he hadn’t been a few seconds earlier.

“Hey, Sarge. Looking good.” Andrea sashayed over and fist-bumped Sig.

Bluebell squawked his agreement as Sig leaned over to scratch his head.

“Thanks.” Sig smiled at Andrea before he turned to Elsie. “Wow. You look amazing.”

Elsie shook her head. “No, I look boring. I wish I’d taken the time to shop for something new.” Why hadn’t she? Her past was gone. There was no reason to make herself disappear into the background any more. She wore bright T-shirts and sweatshirts to work. Why couldn’t she have some pretty new dress clothes as well? She’d really be a mouse today, next to Sig, who looked like a martial god in his dress uniform, loaded with medals. Even his scars only made him look stronger and more courageous. Going with him had been
such
a bad idea.

“Conservative and warm. Not boring.” He winked. “And thank you so much for doing this. You have no idea how nervous I am. It will be a real boost to have you standing next to me.”

“Okay, kids. Time to hit the road before this gets mushy.” Andrea shooed them toward the door. “Have the boss home before she turns into a pumpkin.”

“I’ll do my best.” Sig said.

“Don’t forget to lock both doors.” Elsie snatched her purse off the counter as the momentum of Sig and Andrea swept her toward the door. “Text me if you need anything.”

“We’ll be fine.” Andrea held the door while Sig took Elsie’s elbow to lead her out. “Won’t we, Bluebell?”

The rotten bird cooed. Elsie stopped dead. Usually, only Sig rated that response from the grumpy parrot.

Sig’s big hand caught hers as he nudged her out the door and let Andrea pull it shut. “Are you all right with this?” His whisper was soft against her ear, sending a tremor of heat all the way to her toes.

Elsie glanced around. Her shop was right off Main Street, which meant there were crowds already, people who’d come out early to get a good spot to view the parade. She forced a bright smile on her face and curled her fingers around Sig’s. His were big and warm. Holding hands felt good, even if she did notice his missing pinkie. Notice—not give a damn. She tightened her grip and spoke loudly enough to be heard by passers-by. “What a beautiful day. We’d better get moving. Can’t have the grand marshal be late.”

He grinned back. “Nope. And wait until you see what we get to ride in.” His long strides pulled her forward until she was practically running on her sensible heels to keep up. The crowd parted with whispers as they moved toward the start of the parade. Eventually, he cut through the barricade on Main Street and walked right down the empty road, holding her hand like they were teenage sweethearts.

Yep. It’s gonna be all over town tomorrow that we’re a couple—hell, some of them will practically have us married
. Elsie smothered a laugh at the thought—and then smiled for real. It was the first time she’d even been able to joke about being married without hyperventilating. Maybe having a fake hot boyfriend was doing her good.

They reached the bank parking lot where the parade was to begin, and Sig pulled her to the first in a long line of convertibles queued behind an antique fire engine and the mounted Sheriff’s patrol. Elsie wasn’t much of a car buff, but even she had to stop and gape at the vehicle awaiting them. Sleekly curved, the classic car gleamed glossy black in the autumn sunlight. At the wheel, garbed in a tweed suit and vintage driving cap, Sig’s brother-in-law, Ray Lawrence, grinned.

“Oh, my. I’ve never seen this beauty before.” Growing up in suburban Chicago, she hadn’t been as immersed in the car culture as most Michigan natives were, but this was a work of art no matter what.

“Meet my first love—Sylvia.” Ray came out and opened the back door for them, stepping back to allow Sig to help Elsie in. With the high running boards and her tight pencil skirt, it wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped. “First only because I’ve had her longer than I’ve been married to this lug’s sister. Isn’t she a beauty?”